Tag Archives: philosophy

Bridging the Gap Between Accomplishment and Recognition

This is Philip Wyeth, author of Reparations USA, Reparations Mind, and Chasing the Best Days.

Right now I and my circle of close friends are all turning forty, one by one. A thought occurred to me recently as I reflected back on the eighteen years since I packed up my car and drove across the country, just weeks after graduating college.

All of us who came to Los Angeles to make our mark, we were armed with dreams and ambition. That was our fuel. It was all that we had to offer.

But now, as we enter near middle-age, those of us that are still fighting the good fight out here, we need to reassess and find something new to sustain us. Why?

Because now we are all accomplished, but maybe still haven’t found the recognition that we hoped or expected would come with this “proof of competency,” as it’s sometimes called.

For myself, I’ve started several businesses, one of which we had to shut down, but another I actually sold last year. I’ve written three novels, but none of them have gone anywhere so far.

The same up-and-down story goes for my friends, who have worked in the entertainment industry as producers, editors, camera crew, and sound designers on shows and movies that you’ve all seen. They’ve made some money, get steady or semi-regular gigs, and are building up a nice body of work over the course of their careers.

But I was talking about this main idea of sustenance recently with an old acquaintance who I reconnected with by chance, and he has actually won several Emmys, so his reaction told me I was on the right track. Because even he, with bona fide awards to his name, he still has that original strain of insatiable hunger which first drove him to leave home and chase the California Dream.

So no matter what age of a man you are… twenty, forty, sixty… digging into this question can help us all. How do you bridge the gap between accomplishment and recognition?

First, understand that public acclaim may never come. Especially if you’re not “writing to market,” as many self-published authors do in order to capitalize on trends. But then you have to ask yourself, why am I doing any of these things at all? Out of your own passion, to gain skills and experience, or to get praise?

Another profound anecdote comes from a longtime friend who recently did what I had once done—namely, leave Los Angeles to try to do normal things—only to have those plans blow up in your face.

He was working a job where he engaged with the public on a daily basis, and befriended a customer who personality-wise was essentially his doppelganger. This man had a high-powered job, a mansion, money, and a fiance who kept him on the straight and narrow. But he too, like my friend, had a passion for music—and one day it came up in conversation that if he had the time, all the man wanted to do was be in the studio recording songs.

This was the moment that washed away all of the shocking disappointment that my friend had been through. He later moved back to LA having cut his losses in every sense of the word, and resumed his music career with renewed energy and purpose.

I don’t know how relatable this next flavor is for people, but there’s something about giving up your life in California—your friends, the weather, the electric energy of free-flowing ambition that’s all around you—but to then go somewhere else, and have that compromise you made with the gods just completely fall apart… You feel like a fool, and you bang your head against the wall asking why you can’t seem to get ahead.

But sometimes you need those terrible defeats to give you the backbone to see future projects to the finish line—to earn those high-stakes accomplishments when other people might falter and quit.

So maybe attitude is part of the new fuel to help bridge these gaps in life. Gratitude, patience, and maybe being more selective with what projects you choose to work on. Because we’re not eighteen anymore, and the old hard drive inside our skull has been spinning for a long time…

Also recognize that life isn’t perfect or easy for anyone. You take a step forward, get knocked down, try again, and at the end of it all hopefully someone will come along and appreciate the work you left in your wake. Then you feel the relief of knowing that you don’t need to “change the world,” as everyone has been indoctrinated to believe for the past two generations.

How many old movies or albums waited decades for you to stumble across them? Maybe you too are fated not to have a bestselling novel, but many years from now it will find its audience.

Therefore, we all need to find something else to sustain us, so that in case we do get rewarded after the fact, we don’t respond with tragic bitterness like Jean Rhys, author of Wide Sargasso Sea, who lamented, “It has come too late.”

Finding that sort of grace is easier said than done, of course. The delirium I fall into when finishing a book is a total obsession, where every waking hour is spent thinking, and editing, and drinking too many beers… Because something happens in the final week or so, when it’s all there but still so many small details need tending to. Then I think—I know—that this is gonna be the one that pushes me out of obscurity into fame, riches, you name it.

This manic sprint in itself is actually a kind of bridge or fuel. But then, as any creative person will tell you, next comes that pin drop of silence after you complete the project. No matter how many times it happens, that choking feeling never gets old. So now you’re exhausted, just throwing money out there trying to will the thing into success.

But even that process is okay, and maybe necessary. More little defeats, still you’re always learning—because behind the body of work we’re all building, there’s the auxiliary stuff like graphic design or marketing that we have to learn in this indie era.

Perspective is another key tool to help get you through. A few years ago I read Barbara Tuchman’s history of the Fourteenth Century called A Distant Mirror, and talk about having your expectations smashed! Guys would wrangle together a small army, cross the English Channel with dreams of plunder, only to lose battles or get throttled by awful weather—and then, when they finally got home, found out that all their children died of bubonic plague!

All of a sudden not getting that one job doesn’t sting so much. You’ve still got a lot, a lot going for you, and you’re still in the fight.

So, I know that today’s political climate means we’re all slowly being driven insane, but to push back against that demoralizing trend, let’s commit as individuals to move our own agendas forward in 2019. Creativity, fitness, profit, companionship, whatever it is. Don’t let doubt, the news, past failure, manipulators, or outside distractions derail you.

Just work toward racking up a long list of accomplishments as monthly mile markers to look back upon. Because if all you want is praise right out the gate with no effort involved, just take a selfie and post that on social media somewhere.

Thanks for listening. Now get to it.

This video can also be watched on the following platforms:
Bitchute: https://www.bitchute.com/video/3XgzIHXQGUI
Minds: https://www.minds.com/newsfeed/941825432065560576
Brighteon: https://www.brighteon.com/6000985083001
DTube (via Steemit): https://d.tube/#!/v/philipwyeth/04n7zv7e

Video was originally uploaded on February 11, 2019.

Book Excerpt: Reflections on Baseball’s Deep Meaning

https://youtu.be//t7L1hMU-X1c

This is Philip Wyeth. I had the opportunity to attend two World Series games this past month, one in Boston and one in Los Angeles. So I thought what I would do here was share some of the footage I took at both games, as well as read an excerpt from my new novel, “Chasing the Best Days.”

In this chapter my main character Greg has invited his older son Peter to attend an Angels baseball game, and then later he thinks to himself about what the game of baseball meant to him. …

Greg remembered how on summer weekends when he had custody of the boys, Peter would take the rubber-banded stack of baseball cards he’d brought over and arrange them on the floor in front of the TV. All the Angels players plus the other superstars from around the league he liked.

The boy would flip a card over and recite an Angel batter’s stats, then try to predict which base he would most likely end up on if he got a hit. Even back then, the kid was thinking on a higher level. No wonder he’s working in tech.

Greg had collected baseball cards in his day too. Mid-to-late seventies. Lots of great ball players with real personality back then. Mike Schmidt. George Brett. Nolan Ryan. And the guys with classic nicknames too. Goose. Yaz. Catfish.

It was a nice little collection. Stored in a couple of shoe boxes he kept under the bed. Nothing fancy like the binders or hard plastic cases that had come into favor in later years. Baseball cards weren’t an investment back then—you engaged with them. Lived and breathed with them. So what if you creased a corner holding onto Dale Murphy’s card while hoping he got a home run?

And that’s why Greg liked how Peter made use of his own cards. Wore them out, got them dirty, left them on the floor in a big square pattern—before being trampled by Nick in one of his wild moments—as if there was something about life that Peter would absorb from the corny smiles and action shots on the glossy front side.

But it wasn’t just the baseball cards themselves, Greg was now coming to see. It was all aspects of the game that made it so captivating. The deliberate pacing. The nuanced rules and your own understanding of them. You could get real insight into another man based on how he saw the game, as if it were a reflection of his own intelligence and worldview.

Baseball was a game that taught boys about the boundaries of life—how going sideways earned you nothing, but soaring forward over the wall was what brought you the glory. There was teamwork, strategy, and those moments when it was you alone versus the pitcher—each of you grappling with your thoughts during the showdown.

And then one day sometime during adolescence, your focus shifted away from this game that was challenging but always made so much sense, and instead you began chasing girls. An endless riddle that defied logic because the rules changed at random. Where wins seemed like flukes you had stumbled into rather than achieved, and which never carried over to the next play.

Even if you kept watching baseball during all these years caught up in the business of life—school, hobbies, family, work—you never watched the game with the same simple intimacy as when you were an innocent boy. But maybe it waited for you to come around again, leaving a door open to reconnect when you were older, calmer, done with distractions, and had… if not satisfied your desires, at least gone beyond them, because you were finally able to set greed and lust aside.

Then your mind could really take in this chess match out on the diamond. Even now in middle age, Greg saw how it could be an important bookend on a man’s life. Returning to a place well worn by your own feet decades ago, when they were much smaller and without the callouses of so many miles. Embracing the calm flow of America’s pastime after a life spent in the trenches.

You had participated. You dove in and battled the sharks. You made the charge over the top! It was of no importance that you didn’t get rich or famous—or even maintain an intact home, apparently. What mattered was that you played and left it all out on the field, including your intestines as it sometimes felt like after the worst defeats.

Maybe baseball and golf, sports so dependent on rules and played as a process rather than on the clock, maybe these were the great soothing elixirs for an aging man’s mind. An effervescent dreamland, a bulwark against chaos, a wide open space in nature where generations of men could gather in safety.

To teach fundamental skills. Tell stories of when I played the game. To marvel at the youngsters bounding around the field—their joys so pure and simple, their tears heartfelt but not weighed down by any of the real grief that would come later.

Greg thanked God that he had been there for Peter and Nick’s practices and games. As cruel as the whole arc of those years had been, at least he wasn’t denied being allowed to teach the boys how to throw a proper curveball. He had been there when each of them got their first hole-in-one too. …

It didn’t matter when your plans turned to nothing. Or that you had lived in denial chasing the dream for far too long. Because what you got instead—that wisdom beyond words—didn’t come with championships, it couldn’t be purchased, and no man could pretend his way into possessing it.

You had to be wounded again and again to receive it. Get back up and charge onward—over here, and now there—and die once more. The only way out was indeed through—as your blood and tears seeped down into the soil of life, your bright eyes filling with despair in the shell-shock of a thousand different defeats.

Which was maybe why old men saw ball fields as holy ground. The place where memories of their own distant wins and losses merged with those of the generations that came after. To know that thousands of boys also tried to steal the very same second base that you had—this was profoundly satisfying. …

Thanks for listening. You can hear all of my monologues at philipwyeth.com, and you can purchase the new book “Chasing the Best Days” exclusive to Amazon. And if you’re a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, you can read the e-book for free.

UPDATE: As of January 2019, the e-book is also available from the following stores:
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/chasing-the-best-days-philip-wyeth/1130240902
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/chasing-the-best-days

This video can also be watched on the following platforms:
Bitchute: https://www.bitchute.com/video/tkZqpsspiyKM
Minds: https://www.minds.com/newsfeed/906396708834787328
Brighteon: https://www.brighteon.com/5858077124001
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PhilipWyethWriter/videos/305351410053781/
DTube (via Steemit): https://d.tube/#!/v/philipwyeth/hgss7g9u

Video was originally uploaded on November 5, 2018.