A friend of mine, a colorful character who stays in shape by swimming daily, shared a predicament he had been in recently. I thought his oddly descriptive narrative was hilarious, and his subdued manner while telling the details made it difficult to contain my laughter.

My friend wasn’t amused.

Here’s his story, as he told it to me.

You know I swim most days. During cold weather, I wear a wet suit to stay comfortable. I take very good care of my wet suit and always properly hang it up to dry, right side out.

Yesterday was a dark, dreary morning. As I slowly awoke, I suddenly remembered I had an early morning appointment. However, I didn’t want to miss my swim.

I had two choices: either skip the swim or rush to fit it in. Unfortunately, I decided to rush. It didn’t occur to me at the time that haste makes waste.

My wet suit zips up in the back. There’s a cord attached to the zipper, designed so you can reach behind your back to zip it up or down. The cord is rather short, so I have to really stretch my arm behind my back to reach it.

Barely awake, I slipped into my suit. As I was attempting to zip it up, the zipper didn’t move as smoothly as it normally did.

Eventually, I got the suit zipped nearly to the top. Then the zipper completely locked up. Try as I might, I could not move it—neither up nor down.

Reluctantly, I abandoned my hope of a swim and focused all my energy on escaping from the suit. I yanked on the cord several more times, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. I was trapped, held hostage in my own wet suit in my own home.

Time passed excruciatingly slowly.

As I struggled, I began to sweat profusely. And the more I struggled, the more profusely I sweated. It can get awfully hot inside a wet suit when you are furiously fighting to extricate yourself.

No matter what I did, I remained steadfastly encapsulated, like a prisoner in a strait jacket. The more I fought, the more I sweated, and the worse my situation seemed to become.

I wondered, How the heck had Houdini escaped from strait jackets? Such knowledge sure would come in handy now.

I continued my fledging escape antics.

Since I live alone, there was no one around to assist me. Nor was there anyone to call—at least no one I would want to actually see me in such an uncharacteristic, compromising, and demeaning predicament. After all, I was naked inside my wet suit. I was seriously becoming desperate.

I wondered, Is this how a fish or an eel or other water creature feels when captured? Or perhaps a live crab being cooked in a boiling pot?

I considered cutting my way out. I had plenty of sharp knifes in my kitchen. But wet suits are expensive and mine was nearly new. How could I escape my imprisonment without resorting to violently cutting my way out and destroying my wet suit?

I accelerated my efforts. I even tried rolling feverishly on the floor—to no avail.

I resigned myself to the fact that due to my haste, not only would I miss my swim but I’d also miss my very important appointment.

I attempted to calm myself, to think rationally and pragmatically: What is the root cause of my entrapment? Finally, I discovered the culprit! In my haste that dreary morning, I had somehow put the wet suit on inside out! Because of that, the zipper became completely wedged in a backward position.

I tried reaching up one arm of the wet suit in an attempt to grab the zipper from the inside. No luck.

The heat and sweat inside my suit were like a sauna. It was becoming almost unbearable.

I tried to consider all options to save both my wet suit and myself. I definitely was not about to walk outside in the condition I was in.

I considered again whom I might call for help. Certainly not 911. The EMTs would only laugh, finding my predicament hilarious.

I reconsidered using a knife. And again, I considered the cost of a new wet suit. So I fought on furiously as time stood still. It seemed that I’d been held captive for an eternity.

Suddenly, I was struck with a new idea: lubricate the zipper. But with what? The only thing I could locate was a nearly full bottle of olive oil. Ah, I thought, that just might do the trick.

I decided that the best place to perform this procedure was in the shower, in case some of the oil spilled on the floor. I stepped into the shower and unscrewed the bottle cap. I raised the bottle of oil over my head and attempted to pour a few drops on the zipper.

Unfortunately, just as the first few drops hit the zipper on my back, the oily bottle began to slip out of my hand, upside down. The slippery substance gushed out of the bottle, landing all over my back and the shower floor.

As I attempted to recapture the bottle, one foot slipped on the oily floor. While struggling to maintain an upright position, I struck my head on the showerhead. That’s why I have this bruise above my right eye.

Luckily, I maintained consciousness and was able to exit the shower uninjured—except for my bruised forehead—but still encapsulated.

I recomposed myself and again attempted to unzip the oily zipper. Amazingly, it began to move. I managed to get the zipper about halfway down the back of my wet suit before it locked up again. Then, by employing a variety of contorted gyrations and gymnastic maneuvers, I was able to wiggle my way out.

Despite the oily mess, I was free at last! I showered and scrubbed most of the olive oil off my body.

A close inspection of my inside-out wet suit revealed tiny pieces of skin in the zipper. A close inspection of my body confirmed that they were indeed bits of my skin—missing from my back.

I hope no one else ever experiences the discomfort and desperation of such a horrific situation.

My friend showed me the lacerations on his back and the bruise on his forehead, authenticating his misadventure.

I apologized for laughing while he recounted the grueling event to me. Yet his deadpan delivery of the story made it impossible not to laugh.

Later I asked myself, is there a lesson to be learned from his experience? Haste makes waste? Perhaps. But more importantly, always keep the right side out!

Copyright © Arthur MacArthur
www.ArthurMacarthur.com

Have you ever been asked where you are originally from and what it was like growing up there? When someone asks me, before attempting to give an intelligible answer I ask if they’ve ever spent time in the very rural midwestern United States. If they’re a typical suburbanite who hasn’t, I attempt to provide them a descriptive explanation.

The Setting

My ancestors settled on our family ranch in the 1860s. Their first home was a hand-hewn log cabin. Today, the cabin is preserved and on display by the State Historical Society.

The ranch was located miles from any appreciable civilization. Nearly a square mile in size, it was nestled along a mile of timberland and river. It abounded with all manner of wildlife: deer, foxes, turkeys, squirrels, skunks, many subterranean animals, and beavers that constantly attempted to dam up the river.

Starting when I was six, the river and adjoining timberland became my perpetual playground. Although I had no nearby playmates, I had a pony and three trustworthy dogs. The dogs protected me from all dangers—except one.

I vividly remember my first encounter with a cute, furry, innocent-appearing black-and-white striped creature. My dogs had the good sense to abscond immediately. I did not. I thought I had discovered a new playmate or pet. I was sorely mistaken.

I was reaching out to pet the little creature when my approach was forcefully halted. I was struck with a horrible blast, seemingly with the force of a lightning bolt. Nearly blinded by a spray directly into my face, I ran the entire half mile home as fast as my little legs would carry me. I staggered from dizziness caused by the unbearable odor, which permeated my entire body.

My mother bathed me in gallons of home-grown tomato juice. My father buried my clothing, even my most beloved green-and-yellow John Deere cap.

Even after the soothing tomato bath, for days I stunk like a skunk. To this day, intense unpleasant memories arise when I see a John Deere cap.

To keep from contaminating our little ranch home, I was confined to our basement overnight. Despite my attempted bravery, it was an awful, scary night. All alone in our basement, I dreamt of skunks—dozens of them, small and large—coming to inflict more of their horrifying abuse upon me. Sleep was unattainable, but I survived the night. Subsequently, I was banished from the river and sentenced to the confines of our farmyard for quite a while.

What did I learn from that execrable experience? I learned that my dogs, in some ways, were smarter than I was. And never again would I encroach upon the territory of one of those furry little creatures, even in my own playground.

The Inclement Weather

The Great Plains had four distinct seasons. Each was inclement and exceedingly miserable. Most homes at the time were heated only by wood-burning fireplaces and furnaces, and none had air conditioning, so we were largely at the weather’s mercy. But we stoically endured all that nature so lavishly bestowed upon us.

Although the Great Plains are not the coldest, hottest, most humid, driest, wettest, or windiest region in our nation, they’re called the “Great Plains” for very good reasons. Their most prominent features include the following:

• The land is flat, plain, and windswept.

• Grueling summer heat dries up lakes and water wells.

• Blizzards of freezing snow and ice sweep across the plains, stranding motorists, killing animals, and bursting water pipes.

• Severe thunderstorms, accompanied by huge hailstorms and widespread flooding, devastates croplands.

• In “Tornado Alley,” deadly funnel clouds demolish homes and kill people.

• Horrific lightning strikes kill farm animals and occasionally humans.

Winter was cold and bleak and threatened the safety of all who dared inhabit this formidable land. It promised blizzards so severe that animals and some humans perished of hypothermia, sometimes on their own ranches. Ice storms periodically took out our power, but we plodded through with our antiquated kerosene lanterns.

I never acquired an appreciation for the bone-chilling, windy winters with knee-deep snowdrifts. Shoveling mountains of snow was one of my early chores. Another was keeping the home fires burning. I helped cut enormous amounts of firewood from our native forest to satisfy the constant demands of our massive fireplace and a wood-burning furnace.

It was not my favorite season!

In spring, it was not uncommon for the heavens to part and spew forth wind-driven rain and hail, as well as lightning. Enormous amounts of rainwater burst river banks, washed out roads, drowned small animals, and spawned all manner of insects. Hailstorms struck with a ferocity that broke windows and destroyed gardens and crops.

The sky often lit up with a colorful display of lightning bolts shooting across the sky. Some hit the earth, usually striking trees in our forest. Fortunately, they were seldom lethal, except for a few animals. However, lightning once struck our neighbor’s home.

It was a classic case of our neighbor being in the wrong place at the right time. The lightning actually blew him off his throne while he was in his bathroom. Miraculously, he escaped virtually unscathed, except for near heart failure and a disintegrated toilet.

On the bright side, spring storms usually brought some awesome rainbows.

Still, it was not my favorite season.

Summer was typically excruciatingly hot, muggy, and mosquito infested. It was not unlike spending a few months in a sauna without the luxury of being able to exit. Rivers and lakes that had earlier spilled over their banks from the unrelenting spring rainstorms often began to dry up.

Most feared—and devastating of all—was the summer tornado season. Our ranch was in the dead center of tornado country. It was common for several dozen menacing tornados to threaten our well-being each season.

They struck with little warning. When within earshot, they sounded like a runaway freight train descending upon us, sending us scrambling into our storm cellar. Some tornados skipped and danced around our ranch with little damage, others violently destroyed nearby villages.

When I was about to enter the fourth grade, a tornado struck the village where my school was located. In addition to the school, the tiny village had a post office, a gas station, a hard goods store, and of course, a tavern. Fortunately, no people were injured by the tornado, but numerous buildings sustained damage. I remember being dismayed that my school was not damaged; I had hoped for a scholastic reprieve and an extension of my summer vacation.

It was not my favorite season.

Fall held forth hope of being a more mild season. However, such hope was often swept away by an unanticipated continuation of the summer heat coupled with early, frost-chilled nights. Temperatures from morning to night easily varied by 60 degrees or more in a single day.

When working outside, as ranch work demanded, I had to endure the continual, time-consuming challenge of wardrobe modification. That is, putting on warm clothes to combat the early morning frost, then soon having to remove them as the hot sun pierced the gray prairie sky. Shortly thereafter, I needed to put all the warm clothing back on again as the sun disappeared into the windswept clouds. Thus, it was a repetitive, ongoing process: clothes on, clothes off, on again, off again, all throughout the workday.

That was not my favorite season either!

Yet as the old saying goes, supposedly what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! So with a measure of pride, we tried to take everything in stride, focusing on the bright side. After all, there were lots of elegant rainbows to behold.

Copyright © Arthur MacArthur

www.ArthurMacArthur.com

Philosophers have long advised us about the importance of using our time wisely: “A stitch in time saves nine,” “Time and tide wait for no man,” “Lost time is never found again.” However, they also cautioned that “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

We all know that having fun is good for our mental and physical health. But when we have so many responsibilities associated with our home, career, kids, and extended family, how can we get all our work done and still have time for play?

The Inertia of Minutiae

It’s challenging to deal with all of life’s routine minutiae. The word minutiae describes the many distracting tasks that necessity demands we do. Yet all the while, we’d much prefer doing other things instead.

Beyond our jobs and professional lives, we may all experience the “inertia of minutiae” differently. Typical tasks include washing clothes, maintaining our dental and personal hygiene, exercising, cleaning our home, paying bills, buying gas and groceries, making routine phone calls, and taking care of regular maintenance chores.

For many, daily routines may be an unpleasant proposition. Even hearing the phrase “daily routine” can elicit a negative reaction in some people.

Tons of books, courses, and seminars are available on the topics of time management, personal organization, and efficiency. Perhaps you have experimented with some of them. But when it comes to time-saving techniques, there’s no “one size fits all.” What works for one may not work for others.

Case in point. I was born with an unhealthy dose of dyslexia. Thus, by necessity, I’ve had to deal with greater challenges than most. Being a fun lover, I’ve searched for viable techniques that allow me to experience having more time for fun and pleasurable activities.

I’ve concluded that the quicker and more efficiently I complete my minutiae items each day, the more time I have left to truly enjoy myself. Thus, I embrace the idea of thoughtful planning and discovering the most efficient methods for me to accomplish those necessities each day.

Little by little, I reorganized my home, closet, office, and possessions so I could more quickly locate the items I needed when I wanted them. For me, nothing is more frustrating than wasting time searching for something I know I have but cannot find when I need it. Every minute I spend searching is a wasted minute I could be having fun instead.

I have persevered in my time-saving quest and have been able to shave down the time my minutiae tasks require, freeing up more time for fun. Simply by continually being open to new ideas and time-saving methods, I’ve gained considerably more time to enjoy fun activities. It’s a liberating experience.

This brief writing is not intended to promote any specific time-management or time-saving skills or techniques. It is meant to encourage you to be open to new time-saving ideas that may fit your unique personality and circumstances.

Perhaps you will give thoughtful consideration to how you dispatch the minutiae in your life. It all begins there—if you’re willing to rethink how you organize your daily life. If you shave down your minutiae time, you can indeed save time to have more fun. It may even become a liberating experience for you, as it has for me.

Make the Most of Your Time

Although the world is rife with inequality, there is one thing that all humankind, since time immemorial, is gifted with 100 percent equally. Time: 86,400 seconds per day.

© Arthur MacArthur

www.ArthurMacArthur.com

How can we live a better-balanced life? Do you sometimes feel trapped on the treadmill of life—so busy, stressed, and buried in responsibilities that you long to escape from the active side of the life-balance scale? At other times—on the passive side of the scale—does life seem mundane and monotonous, devoid of meaningful activity or accomplishments? How can we avoid these extremes?

Life continually challenges us to achieve and maintain balance. Each new day may bring a myriad of conflicting thoughts, emotions, ideas, actions, and distractions. If such conflicts are left unchecked, our human nature succumbs to them.

The key to accomplishing our goals and achieving sustainable satisfaction is doing meaningful work balanced with a healthy lifestyle that includes fun, leisure, and recreation. A well-balanced lifestyle requires successfully meeting the following challenges:

• Working vigorously to attain our goals with a sense of pride, purpose, and accomplishment—without overworking
• Spending quality time with and truly being available for ourselves, our friends, and our loved ones—without becoming overburdened
• Taking time to treat ourselves well, to meaningfully experience some portion of each day as relaxing and enjoyable—without neglecting our responsibilities and commitments
• Making a contribution to our communities and giving to others—without causing personal detriment

Some of the most enduring principles regarding the challenges of leading a well-balanced life are succinctly expressed in what is known as the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

It includes three simple yet challenging components: the serenity to accept, the courage to change, and the wisdom to know.

• Serenity to Accept: Peacefully accepting requires serenity. Serenity lies on the passive side of the life-balance scale. Suppose we have put forth a massive effort to resolve a particular problem but the solution eludes us and the problem remains unsolved. If we know we have done our best, we can be at peace with ourselves.
• Courage to Change: To change may take decisive action and even great courage. Change lies on the active side of the life-balance scale. It follows the realization that there is more we can do to effectively resolve a problem or circumstance.
• Wisdom to Know: The third component of the Serenity Prayer involves knowledge and wisdom. Having the wisdom to recognize and strike a balance between the active and the passive sides is the key to sustainable satisfaction.

Here’s a scenario that illustrates life’s balancing act. Suppose you are single and your heartfelt desire is to be in a committed relationship where true love is given and received freely.

If your scale is tipped too far toward the passive side, you might think that you needn’t take significant action to attain your goal. You simply accept your life as it is, believing that you have no power to change it and that when the time is right, the love of your life will miraculously appear before you.

On the other hand, if your scale is weighted too heavily on the active side, your search for love could become an obsession. You might go to bars and nightclubs, use dating apps, attend singles mixers, join special interest groups, and more. However, your overactivity might give others the impression that you’re desperate, which could scare off potential partners.

In both cases, the true desire of your heart remains unfulfilled because you are out of balance.

Our journey through life is always a blend of pleasant and not-so-pleasant ever-changing events. From passive to active, from accepting to changing, the fundamental challenge is having the wisdom to recognize when our scale has tipped too far to one side.

Life is a continual challenge of balance. If we feel overworked and overburdened—running as fast as we can and still unable to keep up—or if we realize we’re neglecting our responsibilities and commitments because we’re in the grip of passivity, it’s time to stop, acknowledge our situation, and take steps to adjust our scale to achieve authentic balance.

Arthur MacArthur is a real estate entrepreneur with decades of experience in acquiring and managing residential rental properties.

Copyright © Arthur MacArthur

In nature, all things must continually be maintained in harmony and balance to blossom and flourish. As in nature, for humanity to successfully evolve and prosper, a similar measure of harmony is surely useful on a personal level. Although everything in your life and all you do are important, the challenge is to achieve and maintain balance. I hope these writings can help you reach that goal.

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The book is a work in progress and will be posted when completed. Following is a synopsis of the author’s background: