Monthly Archives: June 2013

[VIDEO] And I saw a mountains vanish before my eyes…Empower Network

Empower Network is very powerful. You should check out the video. Dave a co-founder of Empower Network is great.

Mountains

We are face challenges in life! GET OVER THEM. Be strong and encourage others!

Sometimes we have problems that seem insurmountable.

They stand there, like mountains, and appear to be unmovable.

Here’s a magic trick I learned: Empower Network:

“How a Mountain Vanished in the presence of my Vision…” http://www.empowernetwork.com/blog/how-a-mountain-vanished/?id=jointhebest

And I saw it become nothing, as there I stood, calm – staring into my vision from the center of the universe… knowing that I will overcome all things.

Watch the video, thinking of a problem that you have. Get over the mountains!

You’ll discover something interesting as you do. And you will get over the mountains!

I’ll see you in Denver.

It’s going to be a blast.

-David Wood “I move mountains with my mind”
About The Author: David Wood

I’m a man who passionately and ridiculously loves his wife. I love to chill, have strange conversations, talk about wormholes, play music, fight the rise of oppressive jerks who have nothing better to do than get in the way of REAL PROGRESS, do Wing Chun Kung Fu, listen to Coast to Coast AM until I believe Shape Shifting Lizards are real… and I love to EMPOWER OTHERS and ask questions that cause people to shake the very foundational principles that hold their world together… I work from home, and coach people on how to build dynasties from their living room with nothing more than a computer, an internet connection, a pet lizard, and an all out passion to win. Enough of that, though… …back to the lizards —- I’ve always wanted to go back in time and see if there were any intelligent dinosaurs in the Jurassic period. (Not really)

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Delicious new developments in the riveting matter of ‘Dr’ Bogus Berlowicz asfinger pointing escalates at the abashed American Academy of Arts and Sciences.And don’t we love it?

Author’s program note. Funny how memory works. I hadn’t thought of this incident for years… it concerned one of my grandfather’s construction projects. He had to eject a nest of rats and so took the simple expedient of using a dollop of gasoline and a match. Those rats moved alright, with record speed. But on its way out, one threw back its head and bit the vermin behind, a good, deep gouge.

I like to think Rat #1 was repaying Rat #2 for any number of irritants and exasperations. And that’s what’s happening right now at the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, whose august members, trustees and staff are engaged in an epic rendition of academia’s most cherished activity… the art of finger pointing, a recherche’ skill refined over a lifetime and kept for just such a moment as this.

The objective is plain, to prove beyond any doubt whatsoever that you are righter than right, as usual, and that anyone who disagrees is next door to a certified moron, never mind 18 books and a Nobel Prize. And on this basis, the infants terribles destroy the harmony and quiet disdain that ordinarily defines their sand box.

This is why the late William F. Buckley, Jr. (1925-2008), renowned for his puckish commentary once famously said “I’d rather entrust the government of the United States to the first 400 people listed in the Boston telephone directory than to the faculty of Harvard University.”

What is happening these fascinating days at the American Academy proves his trenchant point… that is why I cannot get enough of this scandal for it shows the best at their worst.

The facts.

In early June, 2013 The Boston Globe broke the story that the 45th president of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Leslie Berlowicz, who wore her doctoral title like a papal tiara, did not have the earned doctorate in English she claimed New York University had conferred; rather that she had bestowed it on herself which even the most fastidious must admit is faster than the tedious business of working for it. And as Leslie was a girl in a rush, she made the perfectly rational decision that so much tiring effort was for the little people, not titans of moving and shaking like her. No other course of action made any sense at all.

Thus she applied to be President of the Academy (1996) the revered institution founded in 1780 by three heroes of the American Revolution, John Adams, John Hancock and James Bowdoin, their goal the constant betterment and improvement of the Great Republic.

Her lies were equal to the task at hand, for they secured her the bountiful objective of her schemes, including princely remuneration which in 2012 reached $598,000, a height which even Madam Leslie may have thought acceptable for such a paragon as she (but probably didn’t).

She had gambled, she had won, she had proved her superiority and tactical skills, including leveraging her bogus credentials on one false document after another (including grant applications to several agencies of the federal government) to get still more. She had a proven system of success and she worked it with a will. Never mind that she was sole beneficiary or that she brought shame to one of the Great Republic’s most respected institutions. The important thing was that she survived and prospered.

Thus, I give you Stephen Sondheim’s 1971 masterpiece, “I’m Still Here” from his aptly named musical “Follies”. So apropos are the lyrics to the developing scandal at the Academy and Madam Leslie’s clear objective to beat the rap and even keep her golden goose, no other tune would do.

Go now to any search engine and listen to its bold, bodacious, brassy sound and its unmistakably clear message of what it takes to survive. I prefer the version by Elaine Paige, a diva always worth hearing. Ironically enough the many talented Sondheim was elected a Fellow of the Academy in 2008, very much during Berlowicz’ salad days. No doubt Madam Leslie appreciates his often wicked cool lyrics and smooth harmonies, though this may not be her very favorite.

“I should have gone to an acting school, that seems clear; Still someone said ‘She’s sincere,’ so I’m here.”

Latest disclosures, further evidence the Board was asleep at the switch.

A short refresher course in the whys and wherefors of nonprofit organizations is now necessary. These organizations, hundreds of thousands strong, are the bedrock of our society, crucial to the way we live and the quality of our lives. Almost all are tax-exempt, that status being conferred upon application and review by the federal government.

The power to act and the responsibility for acting resides in what is either called the Board of Directors or Board of Trustees. These people are elected by the Board for either their prestige, management skills and business acumen, or their useful contacts and ability to give donations themselves or connect them to others who can do so.

Executive power is delegated by the Board to the individual variously called either president or executive director. This person is responsible to the board for all actions and may or may not have full membership on the board as the organization’s by-laws dictate.

This executive serves at and may be removed at the pleasure of the Board with or without cause. Thus, in theory, the executive is the creature of the Board, every action open to periodic and regular review either by the full Board or by an executive committee appointed by and responsible to the full Board. Within this framework, the Board rules all… at least in theory.

In fact, as glaringly occurred at the Academy, the President , Madam Leslie, subverted the governing structure and systematically replaced their power and authority with her own, leaving directors progressively disengaged from the governing process for which, remember, they remained completely, legally, responsible. How had this inversion occurred? In a nutshell it was because the Board had largely disengaged from the governance of the Academy, thereby creating a vacuum which Berlowicz was only too anxious to fill.

“I’ll do it” was her policy and governing objective… achievable because she micro-managed just who was elected to the Board, an essential project to which she gave unstinting attention, especially when after just one year in office, she was taken to task by the Board for abusive behavior to the Academy’s long-suffering staff. She survived — just — no doubt resolving “never again.” Her decisive influence over the Board made her regime of control and contempt not merely possible but inevitable.

And so…

In 2004 “Dr.” Berlowicz persuaded her compliant Board to add her name to the roster of more than 200 newly elected members of the Academy — 6 months after the original election notice, thus making it look like Madam had been voted in to the exalted Pantheon along with everyone else. It was a lie, of course, but by then altering reality was her speciality and by 2004 her skills in this department were peerless.

For instance, as reported in The Boston Globe, several former employees claimed that Berlowicz worked early and late getting just the right candidates for election; “right” being defined as people Madam liked and admired, always blocking those she felt would be inimical to her regime of falseness and favoritism. This included even seeing all the ballots before they were tallied… a device reminiscent of political machines for whom voting the long dead and gone was child’s play.

Academy spokesman Ray Howell pooh-poohed any such concern saying that while Berlowicz did have access to all ballots, no one need worry since she “was responsible for making sure the election process was administered appropriately”. Mr. Howell, no doubt, was speaking in the ironic mode, tongue firmly in cheek. Thus, he follows the party line and stays “loyal”. After all, he has a job to protect, and Berlowicz has not resigned or been removed — yet.

And so it goes as one revealing feature after another of her menacing regime seeps out. How she ordered the word “welcome” effaced from the Academy’s front door to make sure hoi polloi would understand this nirvana was not for them. How starting three years ago she began closing access to the good people of Cambridge to the 5.1 acres of wooded grounds which the Academy leases from Harvard University. The City of Cambridge intervened to retain the status quo and a place for a pleasant saunter.

How the Academy in her regime has blocked access even by qualified scholars to manuscript material of George Washington (who once lived nearby in Cambridge), Thomas Jefferson, and Founder John Adams, and many others thus outraging the very basis of the Academy as a place of unfettered research and the free dissemination of useful knowledge.

Why did the Board put up with it all? One guess.

With a rap sheet as long as your arm, why didn’t the Board act to save the mission, its soul and self respect? Money… that’s why. Miss Leslie, you see, was a prodigious fund raiser, skilled in adding generous plutocrats and zillionaire entrepreneurs. Boston Scientific Corp. cofounder Peter Nicholas, who became a Fellow in 1999, gave $2.4 million between 2006-2010 when the Academy raised $39 million.

John Cogan, a Boston investment executive who joined the Academy in 2005, gave $1.9 million. Gershon Kekst, Wall Street communications tycoon, elected in 2006, gave a million.

There were Fellows, of course, who talked darkly about the evil influence of cash and how these folks were NOKD (“not our kind, dear”) but the well-heeled had always been welcome. After all one of the cofounders, John Hancock, was the richest merchant in Boston.

Thus had Leslie played her cards better, foregoing the delights of demeaning her staff and affronting anyone and everyone, she might have gone on to scale the invigorating slopes of power, riches and sweet control, her lies known but tolerated because of her undeniable fund raising skills. But moderation was never her metier. And so she is now on paid leave whilst her Board dithers to a decision about what to do, though that should be obvious to even these tabby cats.

A person of eminence and known integrity should be appointed to review the case, thence to make recommendations for reasserting the Board’s legitimate and legal functions. I recommend Margaret Marshall, recently resigned Chief Justice of the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts, a woman well respected, who conveniently lives within walking distance of the Academy and knows it well. After all she’s been a Fellow since 2001.

As for Madam Leslie, I can hardly bear to think of her retiring from the scene, golden parachute in hand. But perhaps she’ll survive to fight another day. After all that is the point of Sondheim’s gem,

“Good times and bad times, I’ve seen them all/ And, my dear, I’m still here.”

And that, for once, is nothing but the truth. It’s a start.

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Daniel Fischer http://SuccessClicks.com. Check out Info Cash -> http://khdfshops.cpc100.hop.clickbank.net

10,000 (Wo)men of Harvard. Oprah Winfrey at Commencement, May 30, 2013 and I am proud to be there for

Author’s program note. I knew I would go to Harvard Commencement this year after I read a disconcerting article in The Boston Globe some months ago. It cited the opposition of certain alumni to having Miss Oprah Winfrey as this year’s principal speaker and honorary degree recipient, Harvard’s chief honor. Their argument went something like this, some of it overt, some (the ugliest) not.

She wasn’t up to Harvard standards, she was not a woman of education, not a woman of merit, and most important, NOKD, “Not our kind, dear.” As these words, written and implied, rolled out, I knew in my bones that come hell or high water, I would be present, in full regalia, to honor the lady and what I knew would be her message of hope, inspiration and empowerment.

And so yesterday, on the unexpectedly hottest day of the year, I went back to Harvard, on the day of my own 43rd graduation anniversary… to show solidarity, support, good manners and discerning judgement. And no one cheered her more loudly and with greater sincerity than I did… for I recognized that this was not merely an event to honor a single woman, no matter how deserving of such honor. But far more important to honor the sisterhood and their gentle revolution, an epochal event that changed the world and liberated not just women but men, too, for the liberation of women has certainly meant the liberation of men, though not all such have recognized this yet.

Dramatis personae.

Before I go on I want to take this opportunity to introduce you to the principal players in yesterday’s production. First, there is Mr. Aime’ and Mrs. Mercedes Joseph, born in Haiti, two of the principal reasons why my life works so well and smoothly. I took them to Commencement to thank them, to show them an aspect of Americana they would not otherwise see, and, frankly, because it is easy to trip and fall amidst the undulations of such a huge crowd… and their support was very useful indeed.

Drew Gilpin Faust, President of Harvard University, Lincoln Professor of History.

Sandra Demson, ’58, distinguished attorney in Canada, veteran of the revolution.

Oprah.

Diane Neal Emmons, Ed.M., an old friend rediscovered, another soldier for the cause, her weapons of choice her wit, ebullience, and an optimism that will not waver, despite the provocations life throws at each of us, delighting to see what we will make of them.

Fate.

As a social scientist, student of the material world in all its manifestations, I should not believe in such matters as destiny, providence, or kismet. Should not. But when a day arranges itself as felicitously as yesterday’s did, the right things happening in just the right order, one is forced to consider the inconvenient notion that something other than random chance is present, “inconvenient” because unpredictable, though that doesn’t necessarily mean bad. Yesterday’s serendipities were anything but…

Security.

Since I arrived at Harvard in the fall of 1969, I have passed through the great Class of 1877 Gate thousands of times. But when I passed through it yesterday I was patted down by a female security officer. It is a sign of our times, a blip that tells us the world has changed, and not for the better. Once inside a recollection from “Gone With The Wind” came to mind. It was at the beginning of the film, where the newly engaged couple, Ashley and Melanie, stand on the balcony of Twelve Oaks and look out at their world of grace, luxury and privilege, a world they love, threatened with destruction whether the South wins or not.

I stood for a moment, just next to the president’s office in Massachusetts Hall and looked at the vibrant scene before me. It, too, is challenged, roiled by even positive change… I was determined to see, determined to remember what I saw this day and what was part of me: class marshals in top hat and cut-away; their female counterparts wearing bright red rosettes with bright smiles to match; academic gowns from every renowned and prestigious university on Earth; new graduates wearing the most desirable costume of all, their unflinching youth. They would shortly sing “Gaudeamus igitur, Juvenes dum sumus” (Let us rejoice while we are young.) They would not understand… but the alumni before them would… for the words, once just lyrics of a well-known song, gather their profound meaning with every passing year in an exercise we call wisdom and which we cannot approach unmoved.

Rubbing for luck.

Every alumnus becomes perforce a guide when escorting guests to Commencement, and so, hobbling, I lead the Josephs to the statue of John Harvard, the Founder. Only it isn’t. There are no extant images of the man whose gift of books, lavish as all gifts to Harvard should be, launched the greatest educational establishment on Earth (1636).

What to do? Improvise! And thus a suitably attractive young man of noble countenance from the class of 1884 was invited to pose for the famous statue by Daniel Chester French. It stands in the center of the Yard, the faceless Founder facing eternity in the body of flawless youth. Both have thereby been immortalized, and this is perhaps why one is advised to rub the shoe for luck… for seizing eternity is certainly worth the doing. This is something every Harvard student knows.

The President!

When you talk of The President in Cambridge, you mean the President of Harvard. It was my privilege to share a few minutes conversation with the current occupant yesterday, Drew Gilpin Faust, president since 2007. An historian herself, she is a person of history; the first woman to lead Harvard. Let me tell you this: she is well and truly on her way to becoming one of the most respected and beloved leaders of this historic institution and thus one of the great benefactors of the Great Republic and the wider world beyond, for Harvard is universal now and forever more.

When you think of President Faust think of what has happened to and in the world since her historic appointment. You will then understand she has presided over six turbulent years, years when even Fortress Harvard knew anxiety. If she never did another thing, she would find an honorable place in Harvard’s story. But at just 65, she is in her prime… ready to do battle for the light. What will she do? Here’s a clue to one of her projects…

In her remarks yesterday she drove home one essential point; that the impending massive cuts in federal research funding are short sighted, self destructive, ill advised in every way. Research is what gives us the improvements we desire; slicing any part of it gives us less. Does this make sense?

President Faust will ensure Harvard’s clout is used to avoid this folly. And she has my support in doing so. Just as she will always have my support in any and all endeavors to strengthen the liberal arts and humanities, always the great beating heart of Harvard.

“Is this seat taken?”

There were just three seats left in about the fourth row, and I knew we should grab them. But first I needed a positive response to the question asked through the ages: Is this seat taken? And so I came to meet a new friend, Sandra Demson, Class of ’58. She had come to participate in the 55th Reunion of the Harvard and Radcliffe Classes of 1958. I introduced myself and in just a minute or two we were chatting like a house afire, discovering one person after another we knew and had in common. Harvard meetings are like that.

However, the most important aspect of our conversation concerned my questions to Sandra about the differences she discerned in the situation of Radcliffe students in 1958 and the position of women undergraduates today. And here a pleasant afternoon’s smooth conversation became more than chat, an insight into history, something she wanted to tell… and I very much wanted to hear.

You see, Sandra Demson, smart, attractive, charming, was part of the generation which placed every aspect and feature at the foot of Man… and lived to regret it, like so many other women who not only discovered father didn’t know best; they discovered that father knew hardly anything at all… and this made for many problems, ructions, and difficulties, especially when Man continued to insist upon a superiority he clearly did not possess.

And so Sandra, like every “good woman” of her age and outlook learned to carry on, bite her tongue, and somehow keep the faith alive, that better days, and lasting love, too, would come to her. And, in due course, “this too shall pass” passed… And God granted her marital love, peace, and the easy, “woman of the world” manners which we have all erred in not insisting our young successors should have and which she graciously shared with me on this sweltering day.

Oprah!

It was Sandra Demson who looked at Oprah and said, “She’s nervous. She’s trembling”… No wonder. A poor black girl from the Deep South,had by dint of unceasing work, determination and an attitude of “must” not just “can” do had scaled the heights into the very citadel of American prestige. There she was, physically smaller than her outsized television presence, quivering just a bit but the crowed roared for her… and so the lady of embracements, hugs and love, was soon awash in the huzzas which must have been heard blocks away. In a very real sense, Oprah Winfrey had come home, and she was greeted accordingly.

The music.

When the tumult ebbed a bit, Oprah began. Soon, just in passing, she mentioned a tune she loved. I looked it up when I got home and immediately understood her better as well as why she’d referenced it, holding it close, a security blanket. It is “We’ll understand it better bye and bye”. Written by Charles Albert Tindley (1851- 1933), an ex-slave and “the Father of Gospel Music”, it is a rousing, barn stormer of a song, the lyrical equivalent of Oprah herself. Go now to any search engine and listen carefully…”We are tossed and driven/ on the restless sea of time… We will understand it better bye and bye.” I prefer the inimitable version by Mahalia Jackson. Listening to this mistress of godly soul, you can believe, deep in your heart, that better times will come as they came to Oprah Winfrey.

Then Oprah told us how they came to her, what she learned, what she had to do… and what she had to share with others. She spoke, like a female Polonius, of being true to thyself, of living your own life, not the life assigned to you or allowed by others. She spoke of the commitment one must make, the unceasing focus one must maintain. And she spoke of what must be done in the inevitable days when troubles come and one faces the reality of dread and defeat. This was not mere eloquence, though the lady excels at eloquence. It was not mere rhetoric, though the lady’s rhetoric is notable… no, indeed. Instead she was speaking from what the world knows as her great heart… so motivational, so inspirational, so uplifting that along with her massive crowd of the eminent, learned and well connected, I was on my feet, not just cheering, but shouting approbation and encouragement… yes, Oprah had come home…. and for the lady who loves there was ample love indeed.

Dee-On.

My day was, I thought, over and completely successful. Aime’ and Mercedes Joseph had given support. President Faust impressed and reassured. Sandra Demson gave charm and friendship. Oprah gave the formula not merely for success, but how to conquer failure. It was enough, more than enough, but there was more….

Leaving the Tercentenary Theatre, Oprah whisked away by the omnipresent security, I saw a face I knew so well… and it was Diane (always pronounced Dee-On), Diane Neal Emmons. And so serendipity continued, unpredictability its metier, for here was a long-lost friend, benefactor when I was a penurious graduate student, forty years ago, success in the future, but when? Diane and her legendary hospitality helped make waiting bearable. This time she invited me to her home for the 4th of July celebrations when the known world gathers in her front yard to extol the Great Republic. I may even go… for there is a story there… and I want to be the one who tells it, for only thus will we “understand it better bye and bye…”

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Daniel Fischer http://SuccessClicks.com.