Zac Parsons

Two weeks ago, I showed many of my students a PSA (public service announcement) at the beginning of class.  It is surprisingly powerful and emotional.  In fact, since it’s less than two minutes long, I will just let the video make it’s own point without me spoiling anything.

March 3, 2010 marked the official day to “Spread the Word to End the Word”.  The word that we are looking to end is the r-word, which can stand for both “retard” and “retarded”.  Really, we just want it’s derogatory use to stop.  When someone uses that word to describe or color something as “stupid” or “less than” in some way, it’s more than just being insensitive; it’s bullying.

Even though I do not have any close family members who deal with a cognitive disability or who are differently abled in some way, I knew that many of my students do.  Inspired by r-word.org, We got together this past week to shoot a quick video and make our own PSA.

It’s been a fantastic experience.  I’ve already had a high school student approach me to say that she has been convinced to forever change her language because of this.

I’d say that is a pretty good start.

Continue Reading

Even though I may not be able to make a sailor blush, I’ve been known to run a blue streak with my mouth from time to time.  Most of the time, it has been a moment of anger that would inspire an outburst of coarse or profane language from my lips.  But, with my close friends, I felt comfortable enough to let a few s-words and f-bombs fly in the midst of regular conversation.

I can vividly remember the first time that I said “Goddamnit” in Matti’s basement, with my friend Ryan glaring at me in silent horror.  At the time, I felt shame and regret, but that didn’t stop me from arguing about the word’s relative evil or sinfulness compared to the others that we threw around as teenagers.  Most of the other swear words or put-downs that I employed in my youth didn’t seem to have much to do with the situation or people that I inflicted them on.  There wasn’t a real victim in my choice of language (other than my own vocabulary and the object of my malice, of course).  It wasn’t as if a proctologist would wince every time I said “a–hole” without regards for the literal definition of the word.

Not a lot has changed in my foul-language patterns since that time.  I’m not a saint, and my angry moments can still stir up the more colorful part of my tongue.

However, there is one word that has always given me pause.  It’s not just speaking it that bothers me, it’s hearing it as well.  In fact, it’s been almost 20 years since I used the r-word (retard) in a derogatory way.

Corky and the family from "Life Goes On"

I’m not sure why this word offended me so deeply, like the n-word.  I didn’t have a close friend or family member that was retarded or developmentally disabled in some way.  My closest relationship to anyone with a mental retardation was Corky from “Life Goes On“.  I don’t say that in jest.  I have always had an unusually close relationship with television characters.  I have kids named Kiefer and Evangeline.  I understand that it is a little odd, but it has always been an easy way for me to relate to the rest of humanity.

Nonetheless, when anyone would say the r-word, I would immediately imagine Corky standing next to me, turning to me, and asking the question: “Is that person saying that there is something wrong with me?”  This imaginary friend of mine helped me to keep my lips sealed from uttering the r-word in that context ever again.

During my sixth grade geography class yesterday, we somehow began a discussion about the r-word.  I asked the students if anyone had a family member who would be considered retarded.  A student raised his hand and shared some details about his uncle.  I explained my thoughts on the r-word and the lack of tolerance that would offered in my classes in regards to that word.

We talk about meaningful topics quite a bit, but this seemed different.  They were silent.  Pensive.  It was a powerful moment.  I could almost see the wheels turning in the minds of my students as they considered the potency of that word in their own vernacular.

Last night, I noticed that Sarah Palin has taken up a campaign against the usage of the r-word.  Although it may have started out as a political move to draw attention to White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel’s use of the r-word  in reference to liberal democrats, the point is well taken by Republicans and Democrats.  It brings to mind the uproar caused by President Obama on the Tonight Show last year, captured in this CNN.com article from spring of 2009.

Political motivation aside, I actually agree with and commend Mrs. Palin for her stand against this word.  Kudos and cool points to her on this.

In less than a month, on 03-03-10, an organization is gearing up to spread awareness about ridding the world of the r-word, or at least as it is all to commonly used right now.  This group is an offshoot of the Special Olympics.  Their website is www.r-word.org, and even features an “r-word counter”, where you can see how often your favorite websites have used the r-word (Disclaimer: www.zacparsons.com was proudly r-word free before the publishing of this article.).  There are resources of how to get involved in the quest to “Spread the word, to end the word”.

Of note, there is a video of John C. McGinley (Scrubs) giving a talk to a group of elementary school students about using the r-word.

I’ve stopped using the r-word for a long time now.  I’d be proud and encouraged if you chose to do the same.  What do you say?

Continue Reading

In the fall of 2008, I was lost.  I had just arrived at the Toussaint Louverture International Airport in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.  My instructions from Lenny were to wait for a man named Nader (like Darth Vader), and to NOT GO OUTSIDE.  Nader was the man who was supposed to taxi me to a smaller airport to catch a propeller plane to Port-de-Paix on the northern coast of the country.  Well, after getting my bags, I just kept walking.  Wouldn’t you know, I ended up outside after all.

Although it was just like Lenny had described it to me, it was a far cry from the peaceful view of  the city that I had observed on my flight in.  A sea of people, at least 10 deep on each side, were beckoning and hollering at me as soon as I came into eyeshot.  Since I don’t speak Creole, I couldn’t make out what was being said to me.  I picked up on a “taxi” here, and a “American” there.  A Haitian woman approached me and offered me a taxi ride.  I told her that I was looking for Nader, and she said that Nader was not there.  I didn’t want to offend her, but I also didn’t want to go with her.  Suddenly, a man in the middle of the crowd yelled “Sack!”, which I have come accustomed to responding to, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

My relief was short lived though, as this man was not Nader, and he informed me that Nader was not there, but he could help me.  Because he had called out my name, I had to trust that he was a friend of Nader’s and would be able to help me with the rest of my journey to my friends.  I told him that I was scheduled to fly out on a Tortug’ Air flight to Port-de-Paix in less than 90 minutes.  ”Port-de-Paix?” he said.  ”We go now!”

The roads in Port-au-Prince are not all paved, and those that are are not painted for opposing traffic to each know which lane is theirs.  It was one of the more white knuckled passenger experiences of my life.  When my driver wasn’t zig-zagging through oncoming traffic, he was laying on the horn with the drivers in front of us with the audacity of driving at a reasonable speed.  But, all is well that ends well, and we arrived at the regional airport in time to catch an early flight to Port-de-Paix.  My driver negotiated my ticket exchange on the earlier flight, and I wished him well with a five dollar handshake.

Sitting in the final airport of my trip (I had been in the Phoenix Sky Harbor and Miami International Airport just the day before), I was anxious for the reunion with my best friends from college: Lenny and Warren.  The last time that we had all been together was at our mutual friend Phil’s wedding in the summer of 2003.  Our time apart (five years) had been longer than our time together (four years of college), and freaky coincidences had kept us apart.  Warren had asked me to be a groomsman at his wedding in 2004.  My son’s imminent birth prevented me from participating or even attending (a pretty understandable excuse).  My involvement in Lenny’s wedding was preempted by my daughter’s birth in 2006 (again, an understandable choice).  Randy was a little sullen when the birth of my third child did not coincide with his marriage.

When people around me started moving towards the gate, I figured it was a good time to follow them.  I ended up with a seat in the front of the propeller plane just a few feet longer than a Suburban.  This was the view in front of me:  

while this was the view behind me:

After flying in jumbo jet for my most of my life, I was not prepared for the amount of turbulence that a plane this size would experience, even on a clear and pleasant day.  I decided to grab my camera and document my own death, were it to occur during this harrowing flight.  I got a decent shot of the city:

Glad to still be winning the fight against gravity, I managed to snap a shot of the Haitian mountains (and a bit of the propeller):

Less than 45 minutes into the flight, we were descending.  The shadow on the ground became larger and larger:

Finally, with children running and waving along the dirt runway, my plane landed in Port-de-Paix.  Instead of collecting my bags at the baggage claim, they were handed to me as I walked toward the airport building.  In the new sea of faces at this airport, I looked for any that I would recognize, but to no avail.  My early flight had put me in the right place, at the wrong time.

Not knowing how large the city was, or if anybody knew of these American guys named Warren and Lenny, I blurted out the name of their school, to nobody in particular.  ”Sonlight?”  A man next to me asked, in confirmation.  ”Yes!  Si!  Oui!” I said all at once like the confused outsider that I was.  Holding up a cell phone, he said: “I call Sonlight.”

After looking at this man’s clothing, I immediately felt an odd sense of familiarity.  He was wearing the jersey of the French soccer star David Trezequet, number 17 from Juventus.

He punched in some numbers and handed me the phone.  A Hatian voice greeted me on the other end.  The voice informed me that Lenny and Warren were busy and unable to come to the phone.  He would have them come to the airport to get me as soon as they were located.

So, I waited.  Even though my new buddy with the Trezeguet jersey had made me feel more at ease, he was suddenly gone.  In case something were to happen to me, I still had the strange urge to document it on film.  So I took in my surroundings, in HD:

After about 30 minutes, my main man with the zebra stripes ran up to me.

“Sonlight?  Sonlight?” he called out towards me, with his eyes and hands beckoning me to follow him.  I grabbed my bag and stepped through the gate into the city.  Just a few steps away was a banged up old pick up truck with the brake lights on.  Then, the brake lights turned off, both the passenger and driver side doors opened, and both of my friends emerged with grins even goofier than my own to welcome me to their home.  While I wasn’t able to capture that moment with any lenses outside of my physical body.  I made sure to grab a shot of the two of them before we settled in for the ride back to their homes and families.  I spruced it up in iPhoto a bit, just for dramatic effect:

Warren (left) and Lenny (right)

To be continued…

Continue Reading

Just incredible.  It’s tough to see his mother preparing for his death, but it is beautiful to witness how much love this boy’s family has for him.

Continue Reading

In 1994, Brad Jacobsen was hanging out with some friends along the bank of a river in the Pacific Northwest.  Someone decided to break out a frisbee, and a spirited game began.  At some point, when someone threw a frisbee near to one side of him, like he did with so many other things in his life, Brad went all out.  With a few steps in the water and a quick, spry jump that was always natural for the athletic young man from British Columbia, he tried to leap into the water.  But his foot slipped on the sand.  Thinking that part of the river was deeper (and trying to avoid an embarrassing bellyflop), he tried to roll as he hit the water.  Sadly, it wasn’t.  It would be the last time he would ever have the use of his legs.  Brad’s spinal cord was irreparably injured.

Since that day, Brad has persevered from the life-altering accident to become a man more focused than ever on having a positive impact on this world and a high quality of life.  He also happens to be a VJ for The Pacific Institute’s “Discovering the Power in Me“.  Brad has an incredible sense of self-efficacy.  He continues to be an avid outdoorsman and has hiked the physically and mentally exhausting Pacific Trail.  He is producing a documentary of the journey he and nine friends took on the trail.  Check out the preview below.  If you would like to be a part of financially supporting the completion of his movie, you can contact Brad at poobala@hotmail.com.

His body may be seated, but his spirit is standing.

Continue Reading

Last month, ESPN produced a nice 8-minute piece on Marie Tillman, the widow of Pat Tillman.

While speaking to a group of high school students last month after the Ft. Hood shooting, our discussion touched on the volunteer nature of American armed forces.  When someone mentioned how much soldiers have to sacrifice in order to join up, I brought up the professional sacrifice of Pat Tillman.  To my shock and amazement, none of the students had ever heard of him.

While sharing Pat’s story with this group, my own personal emotions regarding Pat’s decision and death came surging back to me.  While I’m definitely more of a pacifist now than at any other time in my life, I can still draw strength and inspiration from his decision to give up his high paying and high profile position as an NFL player.  The act of temporary sacrifice for the sake of a greater good has not been exactly been a hallmark of my own life.

Trying to find a balance between striving for what I want, and denying myself those same desires has been the unresolved theme of my life.  In an effort to “die to self” in an aim toward virtue, I often times sabotaged myself (and my family, as a result) as I came too close to reaching my desires.  I began to expect failure like a musical virtuoso expects applause. I couldn’t believe Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka when he remarked that the man who suddenly got all that he wanted, lived happily ever after.

I’m not sure that I can say that I completely understand Pat’s decision, but recently, it has taken on new meaning for me.  From everything that Pat accomplished (3.84 GPA in 3 1/2 years at Arizona State University, while being named Pac-10 Player of the Year, as a 5 foot 11 inch linebacker) to what those close to him said about his drive, it seems clear that he didn’t do very many things half-assed.  So how does someone with that kind of focus and resolve just change his path so drastically mid-course?

What if he didn’t change his mind?  What if his decision to enlist was completely in line with his personal goals and desires?  If becoming a successful professional athlete was Pat’s supreme goal, then yes, he did make a wholesale change to his values and desires.  But if his desire was to be a great man, then it was just his definition of what makes a man great that changed.

It’s another variation of the discussion on life as more of a journey than a destination.

I now understand desire as a virtue.  As long as that desire aligns with the ultimate principles that govern life. A desire that leads to a full stomach, an escape from reality, or an orgasm is not one to embrace as life-giving or virtuous.  But a desire that leads to a peaceful resolution, a restored relationship, or the benefit of others may be.

Desires and choices come from our goals.  When we are immature, we can only see a short distance into the future.  As we grow, we can see farther and our goals reflect longer term aims.

Pat’s goal was to be a great man.  My goal is the same.  But how I’m defining great has changed.  A great man doesn’t deny fulfilling his desires for the virtue of denial itself.  A great man aligns his goals with the most virtuous truths on the highest level of abstraction that he can reasonably comprehend.  Now, if I miss a meal, miss a nap, or avoid romance with other women, it may seem seem like some sort of denial of desire, but it is what I want.  And I’m finally OK with getting what I want.

Continue Reading

I do not own a John Mayer album.  I can’t say that I was tapping my toes when my brother introduced his music to me during a car ride through the New Mexico desert a few years back.  I do remember his Volkswagen commercial where he just shreds his guitar while using the car’s audio system as an amplifier.  Really, my only exposure to the more human side of John was a fairly popular Youtube clip of him on a VH1 show doing an off the cuff parody of Chocolate Rain.

The day of Michael Jackson’s death, Mayer’s words were the celebrity quote that most accurately conveyed my own feelings at the time:

“Dazes in the studio.  A major strand of our cultural DNA has left us.  RIP MJ.  I think we’ll mourn his loss as well as the loss of ourselves as children listening to Thriller on the record player.”

Then, I saw his musical tribute at Michael Jackson’s funeral.  It was a type of synthesis of his unbelievable guitar talent, and the very human connection that John felt with Michael’s music and life.  It had such an impact on me, that I made it the theme song to this web site, as odd and as self-aggrandizing as that is.  Strangely enough, I’m not sure if I have thought about John Mayer or heard any of his music since then.

It is somewhat poetic and appropriate then, that a recent video interview of John with CNN would catch my attention and paint a nice picture of what it means to be human.

The full transcript of the interview is even better and I gleefully recommend reading it.

Many of the articles on this site deal with the human side of two groups of people who often times aren’t considered as such: criminals and celebrities.  I am convinced that both groups of people are judged far too harshly by many, due to the blindingly bright nature of one side of his/her personhood.

If you view John Mayer as a skirt chasing, limelight loving, lucky SOB;  you’re only half right, if that.  The theme of the interview (and apparently, this new album) is that John is taking ownership of who he actually is, and not who he is trying to be or pretending to be.  This is tremendously important for anybody who is looking to know oneself, even if for the sake of trying to change.

Although John’s comments on age are intentionally hilarious and exaggerated, they ring true to me now as I am on the cusp of my thirties.  I’m taking inventory of where I have been, and I’m trying to examine the events that most helped to contribute to my current state.  I now believe that just a few core beliefs help to guide nearly everything that I do, and in a way, life isn’t as complicated as I sometimes make it.

As Polonius said to Laertes in Hamlet: “This above all: to thine own self, be true.”  Before John Mayer was a celebrity, he was… John Mayer.  Writing songs about love and heartbreak were natural, well received, and most of all… real.  It sounds as if he is trying to keep a hold of that which made his music magical, namely his unapologetic honesty.  He may not be politically correct, but he doesn’t seem to be bitter or resentful of much outside of himself either.

I’m a fan of honest conversations and blunt confrontations, in a spirit of love.  I want my life to be characterized by more of this.  I want it to be one of those core values that everything else flows out of.  Thanks for reminding me of that today, John.

Continue Reading

Can anyone really argue with the logic he presents in this commercial?

Continue Reading

I felt a number of different emotions when I first saw the video of Elizabeth Lambert from the University of New Mexico soccer match vs. BYU on November 5, 2009.  If you have not seen it yet and you want to dial up your own emotional response to it, here you go:

I had a few people tease me in high school for playing “girls” sports like soccer and volleyball.  While I haven’t seen a volleyball video quite like this before, perhaps the idea of soccer being a “soft” game, even for girls, may be closer to being exposed as quite false.  While mostly tongue in cheek, it is a startlingly violent video.

Like many people, I was shocked and disgusted by how intentional Lambert’s actions were.  Even though the video just shows highlights (lowlights?) from the match, and the tension of the game cannot be discerned from snippets of film out of context, it’s impossible to justify what she did as an acceptable part of the game.  She has been suspended indefinitely, and many believe that she will not be considered for reinstatement to the team until she undergoes serious psychiatric analysis and treatment.  In addition to her reputation as a soccer player, he may also lose her scholarship, and any hopes she had of playing professionally at another level.

Many people can relate to losing their cool and doing something regrettable in the heat of the moment.  Unfortunately, many of us forget what we ourselves are capable of when we see such egregious acts of violence while personally being in a calm state of mind.  Some people have called for Lambert to be expelled from school.  Even others have wanted the police to investigate the hair pulling incident as an assault.  She has even received an alarming number of date proposals from men who would like her to treat them as rough as she does her opponents on the pitch.

After two weeks of dealing with a cacophony of media pundits and Youtube commenters, Elizabeth finally granted an interview to the New York times today.  Her tone varies from one of genuine remorse to explanatory pleading. The accompanying picture doesn’t exactly fit the thuggish girl from the video above.  Although her video seems to show a pattern of dirty play, she has only received 2 yellow cards in her career at New Mexico, which has spanned over 2,500 minutes on the field.  Maybe she did just have a bit of temporary insanity.  Perhaps she should be given more benefit of the doubt.

In fact, the two weeks of time that have passed since this episode and today’s interview have given me a lot of time to think about my own screw ups and shortcomings.  If I were defined by my weakest moments or known around the world by my greatest failures, I’m not sure if I would still be allowed my own web domain www.zacparsons.com.  As it is, people know me by some mix of what I have shared with them, or what they have heard or seen themselves or second hand from others.  Although I make sincere attempts to be transparent, I’m sure that many of my behavioral warts would lose me some friends and comrades if every detail of my life was known.

If what we know about someone is bad, is it fair to label him/her as a bad person?  Do stories of shocking behavior expose someone’s true nature, or is it just a moment of weakness that happened to catch our attention?  Do we poo-poo away our own moral failures as circumstantial, heat of the moment, “you would understand if you were in my shoes” types of events?  Or even if we take responsibility for our actions, do we feel that we need to saddle ourselves with that burden on a daily or hourly basis to remind ourselves of how evil we really are?

Maybe the question I’m asking is: are we all really bad people who happen to do good things from time to time?  Or are we all good people, who happen to do bad things from time to time?  Or are some of us more inclined to be good and others of us to be bad?  I believe that your answer to those questions has a lot do to with how you deal with others on a daily basis.

If you know that you need slack cut to you in order to enjoy life and the relationships around you, take a good look at how much slack you are cutting for others.  Since our country doesn’t even trust Elizabeth Lambert to make the decision to imbibe alcohol (she’s only 20), maybe we should all help her to learn from this and work towards changing her nickname to something more fitting of a human being.

Continue Reading

90 minutes was not enough time to decide the semifinal match between the L.A. Galaxy and the Houston Dynamo last night.  My childhood friend Alan Gordon came on as a substitute late in the game.  During the overtime period, Alan drew a penalty kick that would ultimately be taken by team captain Landon Donovan.

Here is a video of Landon Donovan’s goal from across the stadium with the shooter’s point of view in frame:

Here is another angle on that same goal, with the goalkeeper’ point of view:

From a physical perspective, it’s not really an impressive goal at all.  Most 12 year old soccer players could put the ball where he put it.  If the goalkeeper were to dive to his right, he surely would have blocked the shot with some part of his body.  But he didn’t dive to his right.  He was fooled.  Donovan has become one of the best penalty kick takers in the country.  What’s more impressive is that he has done this with one of the least powerful shots in professional soccer.  A little glance of the eye, twist of the hip, and a fountain of confidence gives Donovan the mental edge in nearly every duel from the penalty kick marker.

Speaking of mental edges, David Beckham is now one win away from making good on his promise to lead the Galaxy to an MLS cup championship.  As you may remember, Beckham was banged up when he first signed his MLS contract in 2007.  Most of his appearances that season were with him battling some sort of injury or another.  Now, he’s 100% and his fingerprints are all over the team.  Even if the Galaxy do not win, it makes you wonder if Grant Wahl want’s to add an addendum to his June 2009 book “The Beckham Experiment”.  With this excerpt entitled “How Beckham blew it“, it’s obvious that he considered the experiment to be a failure.

But Beckham paid no attention to charges level at him in the book.  At least, he did not allow them to disrupt his objectives this season.  His focus was consistent even in the face of loud fan objections, as I wrote about earlier this year.  The guy is nothing if he is not resilient.  Maybe more people will start believing that Beckham’s success has come more from his mental discipline than from his pretty face.  We’ll find out after the final on November 22, 2009.

Continue Reading

Although “Beau Lotto” sounds like a raffle game for hunky men, it’s actually the name of a visual scientist from London who specializes in the psychological impact of our sense of vision.  The video above is of his talk given at TED in the summer of 2009.  He has 18 minutes to explain the purpose of his research, and suggest the potential impact it has on us as individuals and as a society.  In fact, the front page of his site has a quote I was absolutely fascinated by:

Our hope is to engender a more empathic view of nature and human nature by creating spaces of understanding that are indifferent to the contrived boundaries between disciplines. (And people within those disciplines).

The Lotto Lab site has a great section on psychology about how our brains use past understanding of an experience to inform and translate what it is perceiving currently.  This, in effect, negates the idea of objectivity in many of the areas in which it is currently applied.  The world would be quite a different place if everyone treated objectivity as a myth and acknowledge their own biases toward self-interest.

Examples like this hopefully more than just fun for a few minutes time.  We use many optical illusions like this in our curriculum at The Pacific Institute.  Understanding how we understand things is key to the peace and harmony that world has been seeking.

Any thoughts on this video or this idea of our past memories informing our perception of the present?

Continue Reading

The Pacific Institute just released a new promotional video for the Discovering The Power In Me program.  Although initially designed for people suffering from spinal cord injuries, it has been incredibly useful for people dealing with all sorts of trauma.

For more information about Discovering The Power In Me (DPM) please visit my page on this program here.

Continue Reading