When I was a kid, a friend's wooden glider got lodged into a tree, and I attempted to free it with the toss of a rock. Unfortunately, I had not accounted for the fact that I was standing on an incline, so what I thought was straight up was not. The rock never came close to the glider or even the tree. Instead, it came crashing down on an unintended target, thus shattering two things: the windshield of a Chevy Impala, and the neighborhood record for the most expensive window broken by an eight year-old.

We are all affected by our foundation, whether it is the physical ground on which we stand, or the emotional one on which our well-being is based. As adults, we look for level ground. Better situations. Better people. Better circumstances. But often, it still doesn't feel right. No matter what we do, for some, the ground continues to feel un-level.

If you had spent your entire childhood standing on an incline, what are the chances of you knowing how to stand up straight? Given your experience, what feels like level ground might really be a hill. So, by the time you reach adolescence and adulthood, the ground isn't your problem. It's your posture and your perception. And, if you don't realize it, you will continue standing on hills while wondering why everything keeps rolling away.

To paraphrase Confucius and Buckaroo Banzai, "Wherever we go, there we are." That's the very definition of being stuck. Most people either feel stuck or worry about getting stuck - either fearful of not achieving what they want, or afraid of losing it once they get it. If they're not changing their circumstances, they're trying to change themselves. All the while, they say they want to be loved for who they are, but in most cases, by "who they are" they mean "who they wish we were".

That's the reason I wrote "Stuck Where You Are". It wasn't written with a particular type of person in mind, other than someone who is interested in personal growth. There's no arguing about the benefit of books for specific audiences - books for women, books for married couples, etc. - but, just as it is for learning an instrument or playing a sport, there are fundamentals that apply to all people. For instance, you wouldn't go to a piano teacher to learn the violin, or a football coach to learn baseball, but you would certainly benefit from learning the fundamentals of proper breathing, nutrition, posture, and rest no matter which instrument or sport you were playing. Likewise, there are some essential fundamentals related to how we can assess, treat, and grow ourselves.

Since it's often easier to recognize our own behavior when we see it in someone else, the book contains several dozen very short stories about several dozen people. As the stories illustrate, it's not a matter of age, gender, or circumstance. It's about being human.

So many of our misunderstandings start at any early age and get compounded. There's no original thinking in that conclusion. What might be different from the norm, in my approach, is that I don't believe that anything should be thrown out. I think all of our thoughts and behaviors, no matter how inconvenient, can be beneficial if properly applied.

Maybe what you think are your problems are not. And, if that's the case, many of your childhood solutions and declarations don't apply. Maybe the ground and you are just fine, and the biggest problem you have is that you simply don't know it.

In contrast to all of my friends, I was always a go-with-the-flow kind of person. In junior high, my buddies were planning their lives into their 20's and 30's while I was still trying to decide between "wood shop" and "Spanish" for my elective.

My interests came together during my college years...

I appreciated the study of psychology because so many of us have a tendency to overcomplicate the simple and muddle our intents.

I loved writing, especially the rule of knowing your topic and audience. I thought it was freeing, despite my elementary school experience of advancing from pencil to pen. That day marked the introduction of new paper. Gone were the grainy tan sheets. They were replaced by glossy white paper with delicate sky blue lines. With that paper came the dictum: "No cross-outs!" Mistakes were not allowed. The writing had to be perfect. I have no research to support it, but I believe this ridiculous rule ruined many a student writer and helped cement the fear of not being perfect.

Lastly, I had an affinity for technology. I didn't start with programming because of my experience in algebra class. My teacher, a very kind man, couldn't help but laughing at me in front of my fellow students. That's how bad I was. I laughed, too. Algebra just made no sense to me. But, I had another focus: a fascination with trying to interpret people's intent. I wanted to design software that took that intent into account.

My career spanned several decades. In the first half, I developed designs for computer interactions that are still in use today. If you operate a computer or similar electronic device, which I suppose you must if you're reading this, then you have likely encountered my designs.

I applied similar principles to facilitating groups and individuals: addressing people's interactions and intentions with one another and within themselves. Just as it is to push a button and get the unexpected or unintended, so it is with many aspects of our lives. Conversations don't go as planned. Life doesn't work as we hope. People misunderstand us. And, we misunderstand them.

I enjoy a simple life. Simple pleasures. Two rescue dogs. Chocolate. Good bread and cheese. When I was younger, I laughed about how easily my parents were pleased. As I grew older, I began to appreciate that blessing. What I hope to do, whenever given the chance, is help people discover their own simple pleasures, their own blessings, and their own calm.