The Bobby Rock Newsletter #114 (10-1-24) - The Cost of NOT Risking
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Hey Gang -
As always, thanks so much for being here. The Newsletter feature on my recent trip to Africa has been taking quite a bit longer than expected to complete (what else is new?), so I figured it was time to deliver another super-stout edition in the interim. Let's jump in!
In This Issue:
What's Going On? An update and a few photos from the here and now...
The Cost of NOT Taking That Risk: We usually associate making a "risky" decision with all we have to lose. But what price might we pay if we don't take that risk?
How and Why I Finally Quit Smoking: I was fortunate enough to celebrate 45 years of no smoking last month and thought I would recount the unusual particulars about how that came to be.
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What's Going On?: A Spontaneous Update
My friends, I apparently underestimated how involved this article/blog about my summer trip to Africa would be to piece together. I came home with roughly 1200 pics and vids to sort through, so I knew all that would be tough to nail down. But also, the writing has been its own special challenge. It was an extraordinary life experience, on so many levels, and I really want to get this one right. Thank you for your patience.
On that note... time continues to be the most precious, yet fleeting, commodity in life as of late. And by "as of late," I mean in the 20-plus months since our son came along. Am I bitching? Not in the least. Just consistently living in the vortex of "where in the hell did this day go?"
Meanwhile, the creative mojo remains fully intact. There is the usual revolving door of projects to juggle, of flights to catch and Lita Ford shows to play, of new things to conceptualize and activate, and, of course, those ever-present, daily "-ing" routines: training, practicing, writing, creating, and, of course, fathering... which entails all of the cool new stuff associated with being a dada. I'm hopeful I will get it all done in this lifetime. Just hoping for sooner rather than later with a bunch of it.
In the spirit of the here and now, I will share a few pics from this past week's iPhone "life-cycle" of documentation:
From Dodger Stadium last week. Here was the social post:
Caught a great game at Dodger Stadium last night with my girl, Kari Wahlgren. Man, there are a lot of great contenders out there this year, but I’m still holding out for a Dodgers vs Yankees World Series. Ohtani, Judge, Betts, Soto… and on and on it goes. Fingers crossed!
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If you can get seats for the Dugout Club, you can access some cool memorabilia-type shit back there, like these old team travel trunks.
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From there, it was off to Minnesota for a couple Lita Ford shows with Foreigner.
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Before soundcheck, I hit the weights, then went for a run where I encountered these steep hills around Duluth. Running hills is a love/hate thing, for sure!
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Soundcheck at the arena a bit later...
Pic by Teddy Allison
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And one from the hit...
Pic by Teddy Allison
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Soundcheck view from the second of two cool shows. Gotta love those hockey rinks!
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And one from the front...
Pic by ???
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Note: While I like different things about all the various places we play—theaters, clubs, casinos, amphitheaters, festivals, and even fairs—arenas remain my absolute favorite. Just such a vibe in the room and a big, ambient sound in the air.
Next stop on the Lita Ford freight train?
Saturday, Oct 12th
Prairie Knights Casino & Resort
Fort Yates, ND
(Warrant also on the bill)
Pic by Teddy Allison
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The Cost of NOT Taking that Risk
Let me take a guess here: There is something you've been wanting to do, to start, or to finish. There is a business you've always wanted to launch... a book you've always wanted to write... a dream you've always wanted to follow. There is something in there, just below the surface—perpetually—wanting to break free, through you, into this reality. It's been around for awhile, maybe even years. And although it might fluctuate in intensity from one day, week, or month to the next, it's not going away. If you were finally to pursue it, it could be a life-altering game-changer. But, of course, to fully pursue it would require that you, on some level, jeopardize the predictabilities of your existing life or current game. This could be risky. And therein lies one of the most infamous of all human dilemmas: to answer the call... or not.
I recently revisited the following quote from a Tim Grover book (either Relentless or Winning, don't quite recall) and it struck me with a bit more potency than it had the first time I read it:
"If you think the cost (of taking a risk) is too high, wait until you get the bill for doing nothing."
Ain't this the truth?
If we examine virtually anything meaningful that has happened in our experience, it would seem there were noteworthy risks involved with its acquisition. We likely had to let go of something in our present to arrive at this more optimal future. This can be scary, because if things don't work out, we might wind up with nothing. And here is the ol' risk/reward paradigm which often implies: the more we risk on the front end, the more we stand to gain—or lose—on the back end.
This fact informs why so many folks are content to simply not take many risks. On the upside, you avoid that potential crippling blow if things don't work out. But on the downside, if your current situation is rooted in some kind of status quo safety zone, you might be crippling yourself, anyway... hence Grover's reference to "paying the bill" for your inactivity.
Simply put, to not take that calculated risk on those most compelling aspirations could find us in a woulda/coulda/shoulda hell of terminal regret. And that's a bitch, not only for us, but for the potentially countless others whose lives we might have impacted. For real. (Just think about some of the key events in your life and how different things would've turned out had you not taken those necessary risks.)
This whole subject calls to mind another grim contemplation of a similar ilk, that I broached in my book, Zentauria:
"There’s an anecdote floating around out there that goes something like this: where is the most valuable real estate in the world? The graveyard. Why? Because that’s where all the uncompleted creations reside… books unfinished, songs unrecorded, genius innovations unactualized… all forever hidden from the world… their cause-and-effect spiraling, however earth-shattering it might have been, strangled in the womb. The world is literally a different place on some level because these potential creations are all decaying in the ground with their creators. This is depressing to me."
And it should be depressing to all of us walking around with our neglected aspirations and inclinations... hence Grover's poignant warning about it.
Still, though, this is not intended to be some kind of rah-rah motivational rant, where you are asked to blindly "risk it all" in favor of the "impossible dream." This is more of a wake up call (for me, as well) to probe a little deeper into what's actually stopping you from jumping on that thing and pummeling it into your reality.
In some cases, the risks are obvious, as time can't ever be recovered and money may never be recovered. Fair enough. Proceed strategically, with empathetic smart people in your corner, as you take great care not to jeopardize the well-being of those who depend on you in the process. But in other cases, the perceived risks are more imagined than real... a byproduct of flawed thinking or unwarranted self-doubt, neither of which should be holding you back.
At the same time, truth is, there are risks with everything, even in those areas of life that seem solid and comfortable. Take work, for instance. That "stable" job you dread, but exclusively rely on for week-to-week sustenance, could go away tomorrow. In this way, it's a risk not to have been developing that dream biz, either for the extra income needed for transition to a new job, or maybe even for the opportunity to pursue it full time at that point.
Even starting an exercise program could be viewed as a risk, because you would be risking the comfort, predictability, and comparative simplicity of a lifestyle where you don't have to work out. And yet, it is riskier not to exercise, given all of the health issues that will inevitably arise from a sedentary lifestyle.
Which all leads us to...
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To Risk or Not
If any of the above is resonating with you, I would suggest scribbling together a few thoughts in journal form... which is something I try to suggest around here from time to time.
Consider answering (through writing) the following line of questioning:
1. What are three of the biggest goals, desires, tasks, or projects that remain either unfinished or unattempted in your life?
2. What's actually at risk to begin, pursue, or finish each one? Time, money, potential ridicule, discomfort, etc.
3. In what ways would your life be enriched if all goes well with your pursuit of each endeavor?
4. On your death bed, which one would you most regret not completing, attempting, or otherwise finding resolution with?
PS. Start with whatever you answered on #4! As the old saying goes, my friends: "We are not promised tomorrow."
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How and Why I Finally Quit Smoking
This summer, on August 8, I celebrated 45 years since I quit smoking cigarettes. To this day, it remains one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Here's the quick backstory.
When I entered a rehab program at 13 (catch the full blog HERE), one of the concessions the counselor asked my parents to consider was to let me smoke cigarettes in front of them. He told them this would be a good "bargaining chip" to extend if I agreed to sober up for 30 days (so I could go to meetings and, hopefully, decide to stay sober). Still, it was obviously a tough call, but they agreed. And while I would never smoke weed, do drugs, or drink alcohol again (just celebrated 48 years of sobriety on 9-14-24: Yee-Haw!), smoking remained a pack-and-a-half per day proposition for the next few years.
My parents also smoked (this was the 70s after all!), and I think we all knew we needed to quit sooner than later. So my dad and I would occasionally enter into these no smoking bets, the parameters of which we would detail, pen in hand on a single sheet of paper, and then both sign. The deal was simple: if he slipped up and started smoking again first, he would have to buy me my dream drum set. If I slipped up, I would agree to pay him something like $1000, in manageable monthly payments, by the time I graduated high school.
Invariably, though, after a few days of absolute suffering, we would look at each other, and one of us would say, "You want to scrap this deal?" The other would say, "Yes." And then we would tear up the contract and light up some smokes. Pathetic, I know.
Early summer after 10th grade, I needed that dream drum set. So my dad agreed to finance the kit with a two-year loan if I agreed to make the monthly payments. It was on, and I was soon the proud owner of a chrome Pearl Octoplus kit.
Life was grand... except for one thing. I had to get a job to make those payments, and all of those hours were cutting into my practice time! And so, on a desperate whim one day, I asked my dad: "Listen, how about this? For every month that I go without smoking a cigarette, would you pick up that month's payment?"
Without hesitation, he said yes. I was stunned.
"Okay," I replied, "but what if I decide to start smoking again after the loan is paid back?"
"Well," he said, "that's alright, I suppose, At least it would've added a couple years to your life."
(Wow. The love of a father, right?)
And with that, we had a deal.
On August 7th, 1979, around 11:55 PM, I was at Panjo's Pizza off Memorial Drive after a PDAP (Palmer Drug Abuse Program) meeting, talking with a fellow member named Sam. I had just lit up my last cigarette before that deal with my dad kicked in and, with a wave of this deeply intuitive foresight taking over me, I interrupted Sam to say, "Bro, do you realize this is the last cigarette I will ever smoke?"
I don't think he believed me.
At 11:59, just before 12:00 AM, August 8, I ground out that Marlborough butt into a black plastic ashtray... and sure enough: I would, in fact, never smoke another cigarette again.
My dad was elated. And, eventually... once I got to the other side of the torturous withdrawal symptoms, I was, too!
In Retrospect...
It appears that my love for drumming overpowered my "love" for (aka extreme addiction to) tobacco. This has remained an interesting contemplation for me through the years.
It seems that we can give up a bad habit for one of two reasons: we either have to really hate the consequences of what it's doing to us, or we have to really love this other thing that will flourish if we give it up. In my experience, the consequences of something we can't shake have to be really bad for us to let it go. And in the case of being a 16-year old smoker, I just couldn't see enough downside at that point to be motivated to quit. But if we can focus on something we love—such as, in this case, practicing drums all day and how quitting smoking might facilitate such an activity for my unemployed ass—then, boom: that might be enough to do it.
This is interesting food for thought when trying to battle against bad habits: junk food, alcohol, cigarettes, and all the rest of it. In my observation, it's tough to get humans to embrace the long-term benefit upsides of stopping an unhealthy activity that continues to give them untold amounts of short-term pleasure, longer-term consequences be damned! Hence, I believe we must have a long-term WHY upside for doing it that outweighs the fleeting pleasure of our vice.
In my case, I got lucky in that my dad was willing to facilitate a major upside benefit if I could shake the cigs. Otherwise—in all honesty—I'm not sure how or when I would've ever done it. And, among a host of other things, I have a feeling all of this healthy lifestyle stuff would not have been part of my future had I continued to smoke!
(Thanks, papa!)
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Thanks again, everybody. Connect soon!
Until then,
BR
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