Creating Extraordinary Joy: A Guide to Authenticity, Connection and Self-Transformation

Introduction:

Who I Am

Like many modern people, I am independent and adventurous. I have always thought of myself as pretty much a self-made man, but when I started writing this book, I realized that my value system was built long ago; it reached back to my knowledge of my parents and grandparents. I wanted to include their stories in this book because I think my upbringing is an important part of how I learned about creating extraordinary joy.

In 1890, my grandfather, then a young man, went from South Africa to Mashonaland, a district of Rhodesia (now called Zimbabwe). He was attracted to Rhodesia by the British South African Company, which basically owned the whole country and offered men land in exchange for colonization. The goal of the British South African Company was to populate Rhodesia, the location of one of the richest mining operations in history.

My grandfather saw a business opportunity to transport goods to Rhodesia from the much more developed South Africa. Commodities were scarce and very expensive, so there was much money to be made in this line of business. He used an ox wagon to transport goods from Johannesburg and Kimberly in the Northern Cape Province of South Africa to Salisbury (now Harare) and Bulawayo, which were at that time Rhodesia’s two principal towns.

My grandfather was a great team player and hard worker and encouraged the other transporters to group together. The road was long and hard, and they sometimes traveled in convoys. He learned these skills from my great-great-grandparents, who were among the very first settlers in the Cape of Good Hope and formed the first work groups and unions in protest against the treatment they received from the Dutch East India Company. The Cape of Good Hope colonies—made up of German, French, Dutch, and English settlers—were created to grow fresh fruit and vegetables and make wine for the ships that stopped at the Cape of Good Hope to replenish supplies on their way to India and the Far East. (The Suez Canal had not yet been constructed.)

Malaria, a mosquito-borne disease, was common in the area, and the medicines to counteract the ravages of this disease were scarce. My grandfather once traveled without a convoy and grew so sick from malaria that he became delusional and was stranded in the middle of the bushveld for eight days. He later said that it was the belief and positiveness of his Zulu assistant that prevailed and sustained him until other wagons arrived. He never attempted the great trek from South Africa on his own again. He believed in the power of unity over adversity, a belief learned from daily experience on his treks: for example, it often happened in the rainy season that more than one span of oxen was needed to pull a loaded wagon from the mud. My grandfather always spoke about the importance of working together and the need for faith and the belief that God would provide and deliver them from the ravages of the African terrain.

He continued the transportation business and also opened some trading posts. Business was brisk, with cattle traded and bartered for blankets, coats, beads, and other goods that the local African people needed. Then came the great Rinderpest Plague, a cattle disease that put a halt to the cattle trade. Many transport companies changed over to mules, but my grandfather settled on a farm with his cattle, which were unaffected. He married and had a daughter—my mother. My grandfather, like many other Rhodesian settlers I know, had come to Africa to start a new life and discovered that Africa was abundant with life itself. He fell in love with Africa.

In the old days in Rhodesia, farming cattle and tobacco was pretty much the norm. However, my father was more interested in business, religion, politics, and hunting, and he was good at all those things. My father was ten years older than my mother. He provided well for us, he worked hard, and he really had our best interests at heart; however, he became angry and withdrawn from trying to solve his own inner turmoil.

I learned early that some people find the path to joy only through tragedy. It took an accident for my father to realize that he was in charge of his own thoughts and feelings. He fell twelve feet from a ladder, fracturing his pelvis, breaking a leg, and bruising his whole body. His brush with death may have been the best thing that ever happened to him—he changed from a terribly sad and insecure person into someone who could appreciate life on a whole new level. He became much happier and loving after his accident, and I finally started to feel close to him.

I’ve always taken it for granted that growing up in Africa was like growing up any place, but lately I’ve come to see how different my life would have been if I’d grown up somewhere else. There’s something about Zimbabwe—the landscape, the weather and animals, the culture—that predisposed me to seek the joy of my childhood and to recreate it as an adult and share it with others. There is a saying in Africa: Once you experience the red dust of Africa in your nostrils, you will always return. Once you experience joy, you will return to it again and again.

I was born in the farming community of Gatooma in the Hartley District of Zimbabwe, an incredible place to grow up. Many people believe that Zimbabwe is a modern term for the Shona phrase dzimba dza mabwe (houses of stone), which refers to the ancient city founded in this southern African country. Great Zimbabwe was home to some fifteen thousand people, and it still stands today—uninhabited. Towering stone walls, seventeen feet thick, are still held together by a clay and gravel mixture known as daga. Who built Great Zimbabwe? To this day, no one knows. It has been rumored since the sixteenth century that the fabulous stone structure was one of the cities of the Queen of Sheba.

I have great fondness, memories, and deep ties to the workings and collaborations of nature, all gifts to me from my childhood in Zimbabwe. My memories of early childhood are still vivid and always bring me a sense of joy. It was paradise for a curious, inquisitive, and rambunctious youngster. Although I don’t remember it, I’m told that I experienced the full impact of nature for the first time when I was only three weeks old. My father took the whole family on safari and set up camp on the Umsweswi River, which became a joyful bathtub for me. I loved the feel of cool water, and I still do!

Ever since I can remember, I have loved to spend time outdoors, communing with nature. Growing up in Africa was very different from growing up in an industrial country, and I am thankful for the opportunities it gave me to connect with the world around me in direct and meaningful ways. I was never concerned about shoes because I never wore shoes. I ran around barefoot among the anthills and thorn trees—I had a ball! My toys were created by my imagination: whatever lay close by could be transformed into whatever I wanted it to be in my mind. Stones became Land Rovers, old clay bricks became trucks, and large thorn trees became the masts of great ships. My nickname at home and in the village was Christopher Columbus, and like most explorers, I lived life to the hilt. To this day, I have scars to support the memories of my childhood.

Living in Africa nourished the roots of my understanding of the incredible partnership we can create with life itself. My friends were varied and interesting, and I met new ones every day. I collected chameleons and watched them change to the color of whatever material I put them on. I saw African soldier ants eat pathways through the thickest grass, a million creatures cutting a single-minded, lawnmower-like swath. When we were out in the bush, we were close to elephants, rhinos, zebras, and giraffes. At night I could hear the lions roar and the hyenas laugh. It was scary and exciting at the same time. Looking back, I now realize how close I was to the original earth.

My favorite pet was a baboon we named Jaco. I had endless hours of fun playing with him and allowing him to affectionately search for dry skin on my scalp. It was a great experience. However, as he grew bigger and stronger, he became more independent, and we had to set him free to return to the bushveld. I was happy that he was free and sad that I might never see him again. But he returned often to see us. To this day, I believe animals should be free, and I will never understand why pets are cooped up in small backyards or in apartments. Freedom is the greatest gift we humans have, and we should afford that gift to all earth’s inhabitants. From my childhood days, I have noticed that nature has a way of partnering humans and animals that is quite extraordinary.

Earlier, I mentioned that I didn’t care about the shoes I wore. That mind-set stood me in good stead, because I was the youngest in my family. When I began school, like all of the youngest in families growing up in my era, I got the final hand-me-downs. My first pair of shoes had three previous owners—my brothers. Mr. Patel repaired our shoes, so they lasted much longer than shoes do now. I’ve never seen anyone who could fix shoes as well as Mr. Patel.

At elementary school, I felt confused about one particular boy who sat next to me. His name was Henry. Henry made imaginary binoculars with his hands, and he looked through them constantly. Henry was a Romanian refugee, and I found out later that his father watched through binoculars every day to protect his family before escaping to Zimbabwe to start a new life. I did not understand why any human would need to escape from another human being. The primitiveness of some human behavior still rocks the core of my being. I do not understand war. I do not understand violence. Nor do I understand those who say things such as, Well, that’s the world we live in. I’m sure that Henry found me strange, too, because in winter my mother insisted that I wear a bag of garlic around my neck. I must admit, I never got sick.

My first mentor was my geography teacher, Colonel Burke, who had traveled the world and was a gifted teacher. He was a colonel in the British Army, a gentle man and a gentleman. He insisted on courtesy; he always said that civility was the essence of humanity. Our classroom was decorated with python skins from Burma, tiger skins and elephant tusks from India, zebra and lion skins from Africa, and many more artifacts from all over the world. Each one was used for a lesson. I loved the idea of the whole world being connected in one classroom. My classmates egged me on to ask him about his exploits—a perfect opening for us to sit back and listen to exciting stories and allow our imaginations to fly. He was the first person to introduce me to Rudyard Kipling’s writings, starting with the great poem If.

I had lots of other people who called themselves teachers, but most of them probably just needed a job: they had no idea how to connect with an inquiring mind that wanted to connect with the world. For a number of years, I simply lost interest in what they had to say. Every time I asked a question that was out of the ordinary, I was told to be quiet. Many times I was sent out of the classroom. They didn’t like me to question their reasoning, but it was hard for me not to question. Too many things didn’t make sense. Even arithmetic did not make sense. It seemed too absolute. Once I asked the teacher: Why does one plus one always have to equal two? Why can’t it equal three or five or some other number for a change? Well, that completely floored her! She made me feel like I was totally wrong and dumb to ask such a question. However, somewhere deep within, I knew I was right, because everything around me worked harmoniously, creating more than the sum of its parts.

In high school I loved to play rugby and enjoyed team activities: I excelled in swimming, cricket, and soccer. But I had great difficulty with conformity that made no sense to me and reduced me to an object. It was only later, in college, that I discovered that creativity and problem-solving, rather than conformity, were the real tools of life. I suppose that’s why I gravitated toward playing in a rock band. I knew that the secret of playing well together was being in sync. Being in sync was created mainly by one’s intention to be so. As a young person, I therefore realized that my attitude was reflected in everyone and everything around me.

After college, one of my mentors was a seventy-year-old pharmacist who put in a full day’s work and could out-work any person in his organization. He taught me that the alternative to happiness is misery—and if you don’t choose happiness, what are you left with? He encouraged me to start my first pharmaceutical business, and it was he who taught me that anything can be accomplished if you put your mind to it. My company grew at an incredibly fast pace and eventually was sold to a larger pharmaceutical house. During this time, I realized that my core competency was leadership and the ability to motivate people to reach their full and true potential. I now realize that my training to lead and motivate actually began in early childhood, when I learned nature’s lessons about collaboration and cooperation.

The success of my pharmaceutical business gave me the opportunity to consult with many multinational companies. I conducted team-building workshops and seminars for many large corporations. That is where I learned that each and every one of us instinctively needs connection with others and that validation by others fills a deep, primal need. Following this realization, I became a student of organizational behavior. I truly believe that through synergy (the power of connection) and intentional choices, one can create extraordinary joy.

One of my strongest childhood memories is of a supper I shared with friends and the workers who lived in our village. The men built a campfire and hung an iron pot over the coals. The pot contained a stew of wild yams, meat, and tomatoes, and below, on the edge of the fire’s ashes, rested another pot, filled with a stiff dough made of cornmeal called zasd-zsa, the staple food of most tribes in Zimbabwe. My friends and I sat around the fire with the men, and each of us took a handful of the dough. It was so tough that it could be worked into a sort of scoop that rested in the palm. Using these cornmeal ladles, we dipped into the communal stew pot. I remember the smell of burning wood and the laughter of the men, who were only partway through their evening’s work. My friends and I listened to their stories and shared their dinner, and although we were black and white, young and old, the feeling was one of peace and connection.

My mother didn’t mind when I didn’t come home to supper, and she didn’t worry that I might be in trouble when I stayed out at all hours. I was always with other kids, and the adults in the community all watched over us. It was like having dozens of parents instead of just two. I think that, if you have such a deep and satisfying experience of connection as a child, you spend the rest of your life trying to recreate it. My work in helping people connect in all sorts of organizations is a way to recapture the peaceful sense of community I enjoyed as a boy. Moving from organizational behavior into the behavior of families was the most natural thing in the world, for every family is an organization, made up of people who have different needs and desires but who all work within the same culture.

Since I began working to help people create synergy and joy in their lives, I have found my own life’s purpose. One of my strong beliefs is that I am the product of the process I teach, and my happiness and success contribute directly to the happiness and success of the people who study Synergy Life Mastery. Synergy Life Mastery is more than a set of skills; it is a process that strengthens, enlivens, and energizes your life. I wanted to write this book because there are only so many people I can reach with workshops and seminars—I want everyone to benefit from these timeless, and timely, teachings.

STEP ONE

Understanding Synergy

All things are interwoven with one another;

a sacred bond unites them; there is scarcely one

thing that is isolated from another. Everything is

coordinated, everything works together giving

form to the one universe. The world order is

a unity made up of multiplicity.

MARCUS AURELIUS

Ordinary Joy and Extraordinary Joy

This book is about creating and accessing extraordinary joy in your everyday life. This kind of joy is extraordinary because it sustains you from day to day and is created and perpetuated by your awareness and attention to what matters. You don’t hear people talk much about joy; we tend to hear about pleasure or happiness or thrills. There’s nothing wrong with those things, but they tend to be fleeting. Ordinary types of joy are like a window that opens briefly, showing you a marvelous sunny landscape that you never saw before. Extraordinary joy is about opening the door to that landscape and walking outside into the sun.

The difference between ordinary and extraordinary joy is also one of participation. Moments of pleasure or happiness often come unexpectedly; they are things that happen to us. Extraordinary joy is an intention and a way of life. You learn to focus on joy as an ongoing presence, and you learn ways to access that presence any time you want. If ordinary joy falls like an occasional rain shower on our heads, extraordinary joy is a stream rushing past us; any time we are conscious of it, we can dip our hands into it, splash it on our faces, and revel in its freshness. You may learn enough about joy to wade right into the stream and make it the force that carries you through the world. Extraordinary joy is always new and clean, fast-moving but never-ending. All you have to do is remember that it’s there!

When you went to school, you studied math and grammar and social studies, but I’ll bet you never had a class on how to achieve happiness. Considering that that’s the one thing all people want, isn’t it strange that it isn’t a course option? Unless we’re blessed by growing up in that rarity called the happy family, we have no models for happiness besides what we see on TV. On TV, people become happy by acquiring new, improved possessions. The right dish soap can inspire 30 seconds of bliss. Wait a minute; the right pants also inspire 30 seconds of bliss. The DeBeers engagement ring and all that it implies is worth (in TV land) 30 seconds of bliss, too (45 on Super Bowl Sunday). So we learn two messages from advertising: any new product can make you ecstatic, and each ecstatic moment lasts around 30 seconds.

So it’s no surprise that we think of true happiness, extraordinary joy, as something that’s outside our control. We have nothing to measure it by. We have no skills with which to acquire it. Does it surprise you to hear that you can live in extraordinary joy by learning new skills, just as you would take a class to master new software or learn to cook? These relatively mundane goals can be achieved by taking a class, sure, but extraordinary joy must require years of dedicated study, direction, prayer, and meetings with wise elders, right?

Actually, that’s not right. Joy is a stream flowing through the universe. It lies just on the other side of your consciousness, but it’s close enough to touch as the 9/11 attack demonstrated. Catastrophe and suffering reintroduces us to the preciousness of a (joyful) life. And you don’t have to spend your life in an ashram or a church to know joy. You can simply learn some new skills and practice them in the course of your everyday life. As in any learning experience, as you increase your skills, your awareness begins to change. It’s the most natural thing in the world to become more sensitive to the things that interest you. Soon you start to see the stream of joy, to hear it splashing by. You begin to trust that it’s always there, and it becomes part of your life.

You have the potential to live a meaningful and joyous existence. You have the right to expect to achieve your purposes and to do it happily, without struggle. Synergy Life Mastery is a step-by-step process of clarification. It both starts and finishes with increasing your awareness!

The set of skills you will learn from Creating Extraordinary Joy is called Synergy Life Mastery. Practicing Synergy Life Mastery will change your awareness and positively impact your spiritual existence. The goal is to bring extraordinary joy into your life!

Synergy Life Mastery

Heavy words for a terrifically light concept! Synergy Life Mastery may sound like work, but it is really about learning to play; to splash into life like a teenager off a high dive: exuberant, unencumbered, and confident of the depth and warmth of the water that welcomes your body. Synergy is the energy and force that propels you into life and makes things easy. Mastering your life is not about molding yourself, but about refashioning your reality, making your life the way you want it to be—the way you know it should be.

You approach Synergy Life Mastery through a series of steps that bring you into closer and closer contact with your true self. This contact enables you to grow closer to others, too, to have happier relationships and a more meaningful daily life. This book contains examples to inspire you, exercises to stretch your capacity for joy, and journalizing entries that allow you to discover for yourself the things that matter most to you. Useful tools such as the Workshop of the Mind and Relax-Action help you target specific areas of your life that you want to change and to effect the changes you desire. Each chapter of this book explains a step of Synergy Life Mastery.

Step One, Understanding Synergy, teaches you the basic lesson of Synergy Life Mastery—what synergy is, how it is useful to you, how you can become aware of it, and how to create it.

Step Two, Seeing All the Choices Before You, helps you look at the role of choice in your life and opens up your possibilities for making better decisions, directly multiplying your happiness.

Step Three, Cleansing Your Inner Ecology, explains how daily life creates byproducts we don’t want and tells you how to replace them with healthful alternatives.

Step Four, Making Authentic Choices, helps you understand what you need and how to get it through the minute-to-minute, life-changing choices you make.

Step Five, Expressing Your True Self and Your Higher Purpose, teaches you to honor and act on your true self’s desires: the direct route to a fulfilling life.

Step Six, Reaching Extraordinary Joy by Achieving Your Goals, shows you how the simple task of goal setting can turn your dreams into reality.

Step Seven, Staying Connected—with Joy, is about maintaining a joyful lifestyle. It offers advice on how to get back in touch with the important things in your life, and provides reminders that old age can be the most vital and exciting time to be alive.

In the middle of the book are three Synergy Interludes, the refrain of which is synergy—in choice, in loving, and in family and community. As you journey through the book, you’ll find that the theme of synergy is developed through practical applications that you can use to find synergy in your true self, your relationships with others, and your impact on the world.

Each chapter of the book contains exercises designed to help you think about ways of living a more joyful life. Titled My Synergy Journal, the exercises consist of questions that challenge you to rethink the ways of being that you’ve always taken for granted. You may find yourself trying out new ideas and behaviors, and you may uncover some things about yourself that you never suspected were there. Use your Synergy Journal to better your life: don’t beat yourself up about things you discover, but revel in the idea of knowing yourself better. If an exercise makes you uncomfortable, never mind—we all change and grow in different directions, and something you avoid this month may later suddenly become relevant to you. Use these synergy exercises to strengthen and support yourself, to stretch into new and happier ways of relating with others.

You Are Perfect

We are made up of so much more than our physical bodies: we are the sum of our experiences, our learning, our culture, and our family. We are masses of indecision, confusion, uncertainty, and insecurity. Everything that happens to us from birth onward is stored somewhere within ourselves: in memories, bodily sensations, mysterious feelings, or outright hang-ups. I’m a mess, and so are you!

But