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Breathing Space: Living and Working at a Comfortable Pace

Is the crushing burden of information and communication overload dragging you down? By day's end, do you feel overworked, overwhelmed, stressed, and exhausted? Would you like to be more focused, productive, and competitive, while remaining balanced and in control?

Author Jeff Davidson says, "If you're continually facing too much information, too much paper, too many commitments, and too many demands, you need Breathing Space."

Jeff Presenting:

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Recommended Reading
Jeff Davidson: Simpler Living

Jeff Davidson: Breathing Space

Jeff Davidson: Complete Idiot's Guide to Getting Things Done

Jeff Davidson: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Managing Your Time

Larry Rosen and Michelle Weil: Technostress

Mark Victor Hansen: Chicken Soup for the Parent's Soul

Sam Horn: Conzentrate

Patricia O'Gorman: Dancing Backwards In High Heels

James Davison Hunter: The Death of Character

John D. Drake: Downshifting

David Md Viscott: Emotional Resilience

Alan Lakein: How to Get Control of Your Time and Your Life

Scott Adams: The Joy of Work

Don Aslett: Keeping Work Simple

Jeff Davidson: The 60 Second Organizer

Jeff Davidson: The 60 Second Self-Starter

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Breathing Space Blog

Friday, August 15, 2014

By the Time We Got to Woodstock - Breathing Space Blog

45 years flies by...     By the Time We Got to Woodstock

In June and July of 1969, my friends and I were exposed to a variety of ads in local newspapers and over the radio which announced a unique festival of peace and music in a tranquil setting in upstate New York. Sullivan County, New York was only a three hour drive from where we lived in Bloomfield, Connecticut.

The concert was to take place over a weekend with major acts appearing on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, August 15, 16, and 17, 1969. The tickets were a staggering $7 per day, or $21 in total which was a lot to high school kids. Many of us sent away for tickets in advance, and as that second week in August approached, we were as high as kites as we prepared to make our way to the Woodstock Music Festival.

I went with Mike Delitesso, who was the boyfriend of my high school buddy, Bonnie Gautreau, along with two other friends, in Mike's station wagon. My best friend, Peter, went in another car departing about an hour and a half after us. My classmates, Don and Dave, Greg and Paul, and a couple other kids departed that same day.

Mike's goal was to get to the Natural Amphitheater, Yasgur's Farm, where all the action would take place, by about three in the afternoon. The first act, Richie Havens, was scheduled to go on at four.

We arrived in Sullivan County itself with plenty of time to spare, but didn't realize that the last ten miles or so would take us more than an hour. We crawled along, and noticed that people were streaming in from every direction – on bikes, walking, in minivans, and even buses.

As we listened to the radio, it became clear that every high school and college-aged kid in the Northeast had heard of some message about Woodstock. If they were asked, the promoters claimed that 100,000 tickets would be sold, but no more. I had only been in large football stadiums housing forty to fifty thousand people, so I had an idea of how many people 100,000 would be.

We parked our car several hundred yards away from the opening gate. It wasn't possible to get any closer. We went into a market in town to find that almost everything on every shelf was gone. We bought up what we could and continued on.

No Gate, No Fence
We were walking for quite some time and did not see any gate or any place to show our tickets. Within a few more minutes we were actually in sight of the stage way down the hill at the bottom of the Natural Amphitheater, perhaps a hundred or a hundred fifty yards off.

We asked some long-haired hippy type where the gate was and he said, "You're standing on it, man!" Sure enough, when we looked down, the chain-link fence meant to define the perimeter of the festival, deciding who gets in and does not, had been trampled down to the ground and covered over in about an inch of solid mud.

We had paid for nothing, because this was now a free concert. There was no gate, nobody collecting tickets, and nobody keeping score. I immediately tossed my tickets to the ground. Why carry anything extra during this three-day event in which everything you owned was on your back? (Today of course the tickets sell on eBay for thousands of dollars each.)

My friends and I claimed some space about 110 yards from the stage, directly up the middle of the amphitheater, what in other words you might have called centerfield. I was curious, however, to see what it would be like to move up closer. I owned two of Richie Havens’ albums and thought he was a great performer.

So temporarily ditching my friends, I made my way around the untold numbers of blankets, sleeping bags, towels, and little settlements that had sprung up everywhere. There was no quick access to anything inside the Amphitheater. Several minutes later, having walked the seventy yards or so, I stopped about forty yards from the stage just before Richie Havens was about to perform.

Risking Hearing Loss
There were scads of people on stage, fiddling with wires and mics, turning dials, and all the while pretending to look official. When Richie Havens began singing, however, I was totally unprepared for the volume of sound coming from the speakers. I thought I was going to lose my hearing. I had never encountered anything at that decibel level before. I quickly covered my ears with my hands. I looked around, but no one else was doing the same. As Richie Havens sang on, I quickly made my way back, even as more people had filled in the remaining spaces. The music was still loud, but passable.

I thought to myself, don't people know that hearing loss can be permanent? Maybe it was something in the air that was temporarily impairing them. So many people were smoking marijuana, and who knows what else, that to take a breath was to become stoned. The noticeable aroma saturated the air and there was no getting around it. I had never touched pot in my life, and though the smell was odd, I was still happy to be there. It was a great day in August to be listening to some of the top rock groups around.

As one act after another came on, at one point, I noticed that on the far left of the amphitheater stood a row of portable johns. As with so many other elements of this festival, there were few alternatives to the vital necessities. I made my way over to the lines that had formed in front of each one of the porter johns.

Port a Poo
After many minutes it was my turn. The stench, particularly when someone opened up one of the doors, was already overwhelming. As I made my way into one of the booths, I couldn't help but notice that the pile of human waste was already approaching the top of the toilet. In order to let nature take its course, one could no longer sit down on the toilet seat for risk of encountering you-know-what.

You had to stand and carefully deliver your shot. Whatever meager rolls of toilet paper had initially been installed were apparently long gone. I was so glad my mother always told me to carry an extra tissue or two. I couldn’t think of a time in my life when I would need them more.

What the movies and books and everything that has been written about Woodstock never tell you, is that the set changes between one act and the next often took between thirty and forty-five minutes. Therefore, instead of holding to the schedule which looked so good on paper, which ended no later than midnight, the music continued on until about three or four in the morning.

Making an End Run
By Saturday morning, all of the stores in town had everything cleaned out. Department stores, grocery stores, anybody selling anything had sold it all. The backpacks were gone. The umbrellas were gone. Boxes were gone. Sneakers were gone. Bread was gone. Milk was gone. Even Twinkies and Hostess Cupcakes were gone.

Amazingly, Mike made it back to his car, and we high-tailed it out of town before the rest of the masses awoke, and crossed the line into Pennsylvania. We found a market and loaded up the car with as much food as we could. As equally miraculously as our easy exit, we made our way back into town and found a parking space about a hundred yards farther from where we had been. We then made the long trek back to the amphitheater, but at least we would not starve. We might not be able to go to the bathroom, but we could keep eating.

Saturday's opening afternoon acts were lightweights, compared to what was to follow in the evening. In a sequence that I’ll never forget, and which has never been rivaled anytime else in my life, I saw Canned Heat, Sly and the Family Stone, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, and The Who. Saturday's concerts ended at about four in the morning.

To Breath was to Get Stoned
The air was saturated with the smell of marijuana, and people clung to their knapsacks and sleeping bags for dear life, as an August night in upstate New York can get chilly. Hippies were all around us. There were so many long-haired hippies, it seemed like the whole country was like this.

On Sunday, the day started even more slowly than Saturday. People were really groggy; I guess non-stop marijuana use will do that to you. Some didn't get up until past noon. When the early afternoon acts did finally begin, it started raining. Not a summer rain like you might imagine, but a freezing, pelting rain.

I had been up near the top of the amphitheater, away from my group, on a mission of exploration. I was only wearing shorts and flip-flops. I had no towel and no hat. When the rain came down, it was freezing, and I was completely unprepared.

There was no place to turn. There was a sea of humanity in every direction. Now, knapsacks, sleeping bags, towels, and blankets were getting soaked. In another hour, the entire amphitheater would be converted to a mud bath.

Cold Autumn Rain, to Mud Plain
As the film documentaries show, tens of thousands of sleeping bags were abandoned after the festival. They were too muddy to take back and certainly too dirty to put in anyone's car. I looked around for any possible shelter as the rain grew heavier. There was nothing except for the trailer sections of some trucks that had been parked on stilts towards the back of the amphitheater.

I was a few dozen yards away from the trailers, which meant it would take me many minutes navigating past the crowds that now occupied every square inch of the amphitheater. As I finally made it to the first trailer, I took a look at the bunker of cinder blocks on which one side of the trailer rested, while the wheels of the trailer supported it on the other.

Was it solid? Could I get under it safely? We're talking tons of weight here. One slip, and I would be a goner. I quickly assessed the sturdiness of the cinder block bunker. I gave the trailer a light shove, but it was like pushing against the wall of a building. There was about three feet of space underneath, I could hunch down, and ride out the storm. To my surprise, nobody else followed suit.

It was still cold, and I was shivering with no let up, but at least I was out of the rain.
I had plenty of room under the trailer and I wondered how long would this storm last. Who knew? I didn't have a watch, and there was no music emanating from the stage - it was far too dangerous with the amps and electrical equipment. There was no lightning, but the sky was gray and foreboding.

Perhaps an hour later, the rain subsided. Then, a little bit of sun shone through, and it looked like we might actually have a day. I made my way back to my friends' settlement. Mike had an announcement to make. He said that if we didn't take off before dark, we might be stuck in town for hours. We all had to agree.

Head for the Hills
At three or four in the afternoon in late August, there is still plenty of daylight, but we feared that the mass exodus from this festival might become a mass traffic snarl that could last for untold hours. So, we decided to depart by five. This means we would not see Crosby, Stills, and Nash; we would not see Country Joe and the Fish; we would not see Jimi Hendrix. Even as high-schoolers, we knew sometimes you had to make tough choices, and this is one we all agreed upon.

However, as luck would have it, we were about an hour out of town when Mike's car
broke down. It was late on a Sunday night; we were in a small town, and no
service stations were open. So we camped out once again, some sleeping in
the car, some sleeping near it.

At the crack of dawn, we rolled it into a service station where we waited a couple hours before getting back on the road again, eighteen hours after we had departed from Woodstock. Unbeknownst to us, the Sunday sessions went to about five in the morning, the longest and latest of all. Still, an hour from the epicenter, heading towards Connecticut when most others would be heading towards New York, Philadelphia, Syracuse, etc., the roads weren't too bad.

We made our way back to Bloomfield, Mike dropped each of us off, and I remember thinking, the only thing I want to do now is sleep. I said “hi” to my mother, made my way up to my bed, and didn't get up until about eight or nine that night. Even then, I awoke only for an hour or two, then crashed again 'til the next morning.

The Happening
When my parents showed me the newspapers, I was amazed. Instead of the 100,000 ticket buyers who were scheduled to show up, 500,000 had shown up. Woodstock had been a national and perhaps international phenomenon. There was coverage on the nightly news. It made the headlines of the Connecticut papers. The mass exodus that we wished to avoid, in particular, was highlighted on the news.

After two days, reporters and their TV cameras had a chance to do the work.

I had been a part of "the defining moment" of my generation. I can assure you that it didn't feel like a defining moment, although it was certainly something I would not have wanted to miss. My friends and I had always been responsible. If some of them smoked marijuana that weekend, I didn't know about it. I was unprepared for the behavior of the masses at Woodstock.

I also remember thinking, so this is the generation that's going to move into positions of power? Sell-outs, if you ask me: All kinds of principles in their youth, none of which they managed to hang onto very long as soon as the reality of competing for jobs, paying mortgages, and raising children set in.

As time passed, it occurred to me that more and more people were claiming to have attended Woodstock. I had a pretty good idea of who had attended from my hometown. When I went to college, I was kind of surprised at the frequency of times I would encounter someone who told me they had been to Woodstock. Quickly, I surmised, a lot of people were lying. They said they had been there because apparently, to the non-attendees, it seemed to be
de rigueur.

So, You Attended, Too?
I developed my own little test to determine who had been there for real, and who had not. For example, everybody knew about the musical acts because it was published in the papers and recited on radio stations. But non-attendees would have little chance at knowing about the particulars of everyday life, such as where you could shop for food, where you could go to the bathroom, where you could get medical aid, and so forth.

Likewise, the non-attendees had no idea that the fence had actually been trampled down to the ground and then disappeared. From the logistics, to the mechanics, to the smell of the air, I could quickly surmise who had actually been there and who had not. I never put anybody down when I caught them, and in fact I didn't even let them know. I just smiled within and thought to myself, good grief it was only three days! There will probably be other concerts.

Little did I know...


Friday, August 15, 1969

    Richie Havens - 5:07pm - 7:00pm
        "The Minstrel from Gault"
        "From the Prison/Get Together/From the Prison"
        "I'm a Stranger Here"
        "High Flying Bird"
        "I Can't Make It Anymore"
        "With a Little Help from My Friends"
        "Handsome Johnny"
        "Strawberry Fields Forever / Hey Jude"
        "Freedom (Motherless Child)"
    Swami Satchidananda - gave the invocation for the festival - 7:10pm - 7:20pm
    Sweetwater - 7:30pm - 8:10pm
        "Motherless Child"
        "Look Out"
        "For Pete's Sake"
        "Day Song"
        "What's Wrong"
        "Crystal Spider"
        "Two Worlds"
        "Why Oh Why"
        "Let the Sunshine In"
        "Oh Happy Day"
    Bert Sommer - 8:20pm - 9:15pm
        "The Road to Travel"
        "I Wondered Where You Be"
        "She's Gone"
        "Things Are Going My Way"
        "And When It's Over"
        "A Note That Read"
    Tim Hardin - 9:20pm - 9:45pm
        "How Can We Hang On to a Dream?"
        "If I Were a Carpenter"
        "Reason to Believe"
        "You Upset the Grace of Living When You Lie"
        "Speak Like a Child"
        "Snow White Lady"
        "Blue on My Ceiling"
        "Simple Song of Freedom"
        "Misty Roses"
    Ravi Shankar - played through the rain - 10:00pm - 10:35pm
        "Raga Puriya-Dhanashri/Gat In Sawarital"
        "Tabla Solo In Jhaptal"
        "Raga Manj Kmahaj (AIap, Jor, Dhun In Kaharwa Tal)"
    Melanie Safka - 10:50pm - 11:20pm
        "Close to It All"
        "Momma Momma"
        "Beautiful People"
        "Animal Crackers"
        "Mr. Tambourine Man"
        "Tuning My Guitar"
        "Birthday of the Sun"
    Arlo Guthrie- 11:55pm - 12:25am
        "Coming into Los Angeles"
        "Wheel of Fortune"
        "Walkin' Down the Line"
        "Story about Moses and the Brownies"
        "Oh Mary, Don't You Weep"
        "Every Hand in the Land"
        "Amazing Grace"
    Joan Baez - 12:55am - 2:00am [2]
        "Oh Happy Day"
        "The Last Thing on My Mind"
        "I Shall Be Released"
        "Story about how the Federal Marshals came to take David Harris into custody"
        "No Expectations"
        "Joe Hill"
        "Sweet Sir Galahad"
        "Hickory Wind"
        "Drug Store Truck Driving Man" duet with Jeffrey Shurtleff
        "I Live One Day at a Time"
        "Take Me Back to the Sweet Sunny South"
        "Let Me Wrap You In My Warm and Tender Love"
        "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot"
        "We Shall Overcome"

Saturday, August 16, 1969

    Quill - 12:15pm - 12:45pm
        "They Live the Life"
        "That's How I Eat"
        "Waitin' for You"
    Country Joe McDonald - 1:00pm - 1:30pm
        "Donovan's Reef"
        "Heartaches by the Number"
        "Ring of Fire"
        "Tennessee Stud"
        "Rockin' Round the World"
        "Flying High"
        "I Seen a Rocket"
        "The "Fish" Cheer/I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die Rag"
    Santana - 2:00pm - 2:45pm
        "Evil Ways"
        "You Just Don't Care"
        "Soul Sacrifice"
        "Fried Neckbones and Some Home Fries"
    John B. Sebastian - 3:30pm - 3:55pm
        "How Have You Been"
        "Rainbows All Over Your Blues"
        "I Had a Dream"
        "Darlin' Be Home Soon"
        "Younger Generation"
    Keef Hartley Band - 4:45pm - 5:30pm
        "Spanish Fly"
        "She's Gone"
        "Too Much Thinkin'"
        "Believe in You"
        "Rock Me Baby"
        "Sinnin' for You / Leaving Trunk / Just to Cry / Sinnin' for You"
    The Incredible String Band - 6:00pm - 6:30pm
        "The Letter"
        "Gather 'Round"
        "This Moment"
        "Come with Me"
        "When You Find Out Who You Are"
    Canned Heat - 7:30pm - 8:30pm
        "I'm Her Man"
        "Going Up the Country"
        "A Change Is Gonna Come / Leaving This Town"
        "Too Many Drivers at the Wheel"
        "I Know My Baby"
        "Woodstock Boogie"
        "On the Road Again"
    Mountain - 9:00pm - 10:00pm
        "Blood of the Sun"
        "Stormy Monday"
        "Theme for an Imaginary Western"
        "Long Red"
        "For Yasgur's Farm" (song was untitled at the time)
        "Beside the Sea"
        "Waiting to Take You Away"
        "Dreams of Milk and Honey / Guitar Solo"
        "Blind Man"
        "Dirty Shoes Blues"
        "Southbound Train"
    Grateful Dead
        "St. Stephen"
        "Mama Tried"
        "Dark Star"
        "High Time"
        "Turn on Your Love Light"
- stage amps overloaded    
   Creedence Clearwater Revival - 12:30am - 1:20am
        "Born on the Bayou"
        "Green River"
        "Ninety-Nine and a Half (Won't Do)"
        "Bad Moon Rising"
        "Proud Mary"
        "I Put a Spell on You"
        "Night Time Is the Right Time"
        "Keep on Chooglin'"
        "Susie Q"
    Janis Joplin with The Kozmic Blues Band - 2:00am - 3:00am
        "Raise Your Hand"
        "As Good As You've Been to This World"
        "To Love Somebody"
        "Try (Just a Little Bit Harder)"
        "Kozmic Blues"
        "Can't Turn You Loose"
        "Work Me, Lord"
        "Piece of My Heart"
        "Ball 'n' Chain"
    Sly & the Family Stone - 3:30am - 4:20am
        "Sing a Simple Song"
        "You Can Make It If You Try"
        "Everyday People"
        "Dance To The Music"
        "Music Lover"
        "I Want to Take You Higher"
        "Love City"
    The Who
        "Heaven and Hell"
        "I Can't Explain"
        "It's a Boy"
        "Amazing Journey"
        "Eyesight to the Blind"
        "Acid Queen"
        "Pinball Wizard" Abbie Hoffman incident
        "Do You Think It's Alright?"
        "Fiddle About"
        "There's a Doctor"
        "Go to the Mirror"
        "Smash the Mirror"
        "I'm Free"
        "Tommy's Holiday Camp"
        "We're Not Gonna Take It"
        "See Me, Feel Me"
        "Summertime Blues"
        "Shakin' All Over"
        "My Generation"
        "Naked Eye"
    Jefferson Airplane - 8:00am - 9:40am
        "The Other Side of This Life"
        "Somebody to Love"
        "3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds"
        "Won't You Try/Saturday Afternoon"
        "Eskimo Blue Day"
        "Plastic Fantastic Lover"
        "Wooden Ships"
        "Uncle Sam Blues"
        "The Ballad of You and Me and Pooneil"
        "Come Back Baby"
        "White Rabbit"
        "The House at Pooneil Corners"

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Monday, August 04, 2014

Vacation Time Shrinking - Breathing Space Blog

"The U.S. Travel Association, which has been gathering data on American vacations for decades, has seen the length of vacations steadily decline, even as people take them more frequently. In 1975, the association reports, vacations lasted on average more than a week. By 1985, the average vacation had shrunk to 5.4 days, and by 2010, according to the group's latest data, the average stood at 3.8 days."


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Monday, July 28, 2014

Technology Bill of Rights - Breathing Space Blog

The Independent Worker's Technology Bill of Rights established by Larry Rosen Ph.D. and Michelle Weil PhD. in their book Technostress is well worth perusing.

Technology, say the authors puts independent workers in the driver's seat, so to speak. But it can create such dependency that it may even lead to questioning one's own creativity and capabilities. To keep technology in it's proper perspective, declare your independence;

         The Independent Worker's Technology Bill of Rights

 1. I am the boss, not my technology.

 2. Technology is available to help me express my creativity.

 3. I decide when to use the tools technology provides.

 4. I have the right to choose what technology to use and what to put aside.

 5. I can use technology to stay connected, informed, and productive-my way.

 6. Technology offers a world of information. I get to choose what information

 7. Technology will pose problems, but I will be prepared to handle them.

 8. Technology can work 24-hour days, but I can choose when to begin and
    when to stop working.

 9. Technology never needs to rest, but I do.

10. I can work successfully by enforcing my boundary needs.

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Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Death by Overwork - Breathing Space Blog

Authors Louise de Rosario and Anthony Rowley, in an article written for the Far Eastern Economic Review, observed that up to 10,000 Japanese die annually as victims of karoshi: death by overwork.  In one survey, 40 percent of respondents indicated that they feel too uncomfortable to take paid holidays

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Friday, July 18, 2014

The Value of Rituals - Breathing Space Blog

In an ultra-hectic world, small daily rituals play an important part in everyone's life. For example, some people linger in the shower for several minutes, collecting their thoughts, letting the warm water pour over them, to gain a sense of satisfaction or even renewal. 

In the workplace, a ritual might entail setting the window blinds ‘just right,' clearing one's desk, and having all calls held before tackling a project. Teams at work might have breakfast or lunch together, or engage in five minutes of friendly banter before the beginning of a formal meeting. Rituals can serve as little breaks throughout the day to keep noise and distraction at bay.

Such positive rituals – automatic forms of behavior or activities – help to reduce stress because they effectively limit the array or options one might otherwise face.

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Monday, July 14, 2014

The People Who Hate Their Jobs - Breathing Space Blog

As shocking as it seems to those of us who love our work, a majority of American workers either loathe their jobs or could care less about what they do. These results, coming from a Gallup poll, published in The State of the American Workplace Report, reveal that some 30% of Americans are passionate and enthusiastic about their work, and are actively engaged in their tasks on a daily basis. These are the high-performing, highly productive segments of the labor force.

According to Gallup, apparently everyone else falls far short of being actively aged and nearly 20 million workers are what Gallup terms “actively disengaged." These workers are unhappy and only too willing to convey their sense of dissatisfaction about the jobs they do. Another 50 million workers are “passively disengaged.”

In all, about 70% of our 100 million person workforce fall into the “I don't like my job” category. Thus, executives, managers, and supervisors today face a continuing challenge when it comes to enticing the 70% to consistently reach their productivity potential.                  

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Saturday, July 12, 2014

Rainy Day File - Breathing Space Blog

A rainy day file is something to keep in one of your desk drawers or in your filing cabinet to review on a down day. It would include handwritten notes from other people, pictures, memos, jokes, cartoons, or anything else that brightens your day. 

The file could also include performance appraisals, evaluations from speeches or presentations you’ve made, or simply your boss’s handwritten words of praise accompanying something that you have submitted. 

The file could include love letters, ticket stubs, or program mementos. It might include a lucky medallion, coin, or dollar bill. It could be a flight itinerary, vacation brochure, postcard, or picture from a magazine. Anything and everything that will lift your spirits is fair game.

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