Stepping into Greatness: Success is Up to YOU - Softcover

Gutierrez, Daniel

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1614480753 ISBN 13: 9781614480754

Publisher: Morgan James Publishing, 2012

Synopsis

No Matter Where You Stand Today, Your Next Step Can Be Into Greatness
Are you ready to make your life a success? Let author, entrepreneur, and motivational speaker Daniel Gutierrez guide you to the greatness you've always dreamed of.
“Accepting your greatness means taking a good look at yourself,” Daniel says. “Most of my life I ran from who I was, and wanted to be something I wasn't. I wanted to be taller, faster, better looking, whiter---everything but me. Over time, however, this is what I’ve learned: accepting your greatness means to transform your way of thinking.
"Stepping into Greatness" is about understanding that you are created in the image of greatness, and that is enough. It is about looking deep inside at the hurt and the pain and realizing that a lot of the things we assume about ourselves just aren't true. I wasn't a failure, although I had failed many times.
Accepting your greatness is about self-love, self-acceptance, self-realization, and ending the struggle and competition with yourself.
What we believe, what we think, what we perceive---whether good or bad---is the core of our power and within us. Harnessing that power to work for us is what transformation is all about. It creates our reality, our vision, our purpose, and our ultimate success.  
Yes, we have lived lives of joy and pain, lessons and disasters, rewards and temptations. Yes, we have met people who inspire us and others whose moral compasses do not align with our own. To become the “master of your fate” or the “captain of your soul,” we must take responsibility and accountability for the experiences and choices within our journey.
Your life, your loves, your passion, your work---all can bring the joy that propels you forward in a way that inspires, encourages, and aspires to greater things. Success is waiting to happen….just take that first step into your greatness now.

About this title

About the Author

Daniel Gutierrez is an international business consultant, radio personality and renowned motivational speaker who has inspired people to make positive changes that lead to success. Leveraging his experience, his infectious humor, and his deep belief that there is greatness in each of us has helped transform individuals all over the world.
When Daniel shares his real-life stories that come from the heart, his appeal breaks the boundaries of many professions, ages and cultures. People identify with the pitfalls and celebrations, the tragedies and the successes, the heartaches and the search for inner peace.
Based in Los Angeles, Daniel has been listed and has been the Cover Story in Latin Business Magazine’s “Top 100 Hispanics” along with other extraordinary individuals such as Actor, Edward James Olmos, Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, and CNN’s Soldedad O’Brien. Daniel was featured in the documentary film Luminous WorldViews as one of eighteen world renowned thought leaders in the area of transformation and leadership. Serving as President of PRIMER, a prestigious national leadership organization based in New York City and Most recently Daniel has partnered with National Hispanic Corporate Council in Washington DC to host their Groundbreaking Live Webinar Series “Return on Learning” Right to your Desktop!  Focusing on two segments “Leveraging Affinity Groups” and “Conversations with the C-Suite.”, Daniel now invites you to step into your greatness.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Stepping into Greatness

Success is Up to You!

By Daniel Gutierrez

Morgan James Publishing

Copyright © 2011 Daniel Gutierrez
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-61448-075-4

Contents

Dedication, 
Acknowledgments, 
Foreword by Elisabeth Fayt, 
Preface, 
The End of the Story: The Choice, 
Part One WE ALL HAVE A STORY ... SO WHAT?, 
Chapter One Boy From Midlothian, 
Chapter Two You Can Run, but You Can't Hide, 
Chapter Three Fake It 'Til You Make It, 
Chapter Four Never Forget the Smell of Chorizo in the Morning, 
Chapter Five A Look at the Man in the Mirror, 
Chapter Six Accepting and Stepping into My Greatness, 
Part Two MOVING MOUNTAINS AND MAKING IT HAPPEN: Diaries Of A Man On A Mission, 
Chapter Seven Diary of a Man on a Mission, 
Chapter Eight The Agony and the Ecstasy of Living Your Dreams, 
Part Three EMBRACING YOURSELF AND YOUR INHERENT GREATNESS: You Can Do It, Too!, 
Chapter Nine Success is Believing in What You Cannot See, 
Chapter Ten Duplicating Success and Learning from Failure, 
Chapter Eleven Self-Leadership, 
Chapter Twelve Never, Never, Never Give Up, 
Chapter Thirteen Building on Greatness, 
About the Author, 

CHAPTER 1

Boy From Midlothian

Sometimes I wondered if God was somehow trying to challenge me. It seemed that He was trying to mold me into a beautiful vase, even when I would have settled for being an ashtray.

— D.G.

My father came home drunk, as he often did, one night when I was five. It was my younger brothert's birthday, but instead of candles and presents, what I remember is his one hand around my mothert's throat, while the other brandished a knife.

"It'll kill you, perra!" he screamed at her, while my brother and sister sat silently shaking on the couch. I felt paralyzed. I stood there like a statue while my mother screamed for me to call the police. I couldnt't — I didnt't know how to use the phone. I was powerless to help my mother. All I could do was cry and beg for him to leave her alone. Eventually, alerted by a neighbor, the police arrived and hauled him off. That was the last time I saw him alive. Within a year, he died in a car crash in Florida.

That night, so long ago, would be one of the most formative events of my young life. I was helpless, and it terrified me. That night, I decided something about myself: I was a failure.

Later on, when things got Though, I would check out. It'd quit instead of seeing things through. Truth be told, on my darkest days, I can still hear a little voice in the back of my head, and I can clearly imagine myself — a skinny, little, terrified boy — unable to help the woman who cared for me the best way she could. My mother was my life, and I had been useless.

Until a certain age, much of the success I achieved was not borne of a desire to win, but was the result of a fear of failure. It was that fear that drove me until, slowly but surely, over a long period of experience, trust, and maturity, I came to accept my own greatness as a man, as a Latino, and as a human being.

That little voice in the back of my head, the one that said I was no good at anything, the one that sounded like a freight train rushing between my ears, finally began to diminish when I realized that I was created by my God to achieve. I could never get rid of the voice completely, but I sure could ignore it and do my utmost to continue onward and upward.

* * *

Reaching your dreams is about having faith that what you hold true in your heart will manifest itself with hard work.

— D.G.

My mother was a migrant worker in Dixon, California, so we spent a lot of time out in the fields. We were very poor. She raised the three of us for a long time on welfare and government cheese (a source of mockery now, but something we needed to survive). Sometimes the queso, frijoles, tortillas, and huevos were all we had for weeks on end. In retrospect, I see that my mothert's life must have been terribly difficult, more difficult than my young mind was able to comprehend, and she worked very hard to provide for us, all on her own much of the time. Yet I never, ever heard her complain. She had an amazing ability to endure adversity — something I still strive to replicate every day.

Back then, Dixon was a very small town in the agricultural-based Central Valley. We lived in a shabby, green, two-bedroom house, which my mother kept immaculate. After a day doing manual labor in the hot sun, she would work just as hard when she came home, cooking and cleaning before she was finally able to rest — briefly. She probably slept less than five hours a night, even on weekends.

A giant fig tree in the front yard lent some much-needed beauty to the depressed surroundings there at the edge of town. My brother and sister and I used an abandoned cemetery as a playground. We were close as children, but as adults, we would all go our own ways in an attempt to escape the memories of our upbringing. As kids, though, we knew we were lucky to have each other because no matter how bad it got, we had each other.

Until the age of six, I didnt't speak English very well, and I spoke it with a heavy accent, which provoked ridicule in school. I hated being taunted.

I loved to smile, though, which often got me in trouble. Aching for attention, It'd act up in class and It'd usually be called out for talking. It've always had a very distinctive and loud voice, so even when I was whispering, I could be heard over the other kids. I remember the principal telling my furious mother that he didnt't understand how such a quiet kid could get into so much trouble. It made me angry to be singled out at the time, but later in life, that loud distinctive voice would be recognized as a talent instead of something to be ashamed off. I really just wanted to be liked; I was looking for the validation I wasnt't getting at home.

I also sensed that some kids' parents didnt't want me around because I wasnt't the right color. Even at such a young age, I had a strong tendency to focus on the negative. I was already very cynical; I had a perpetual feeling of not knowing what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to act, or why I had even been born. Beyond my mother, I had no real role models in my life. I was winging it most of the time, and rules in general made very little sense to me.

On the outside, I was fairly quiet; but on the inside, I was full of roaring turmoil. What overshadowed everything else was my own self-doubt, especially after my mother declared me to be the "man of the house." At the age of seven, she sat me down and declared that she expected me to take a larger role in caring for my siblings. Above all else, I was forbidden to get sick. No one had the time or energy for that. I took my job seriously, though it was crushingly intimidating. All I really wanted was to be a regular kid with a regular family. What I wanted was to go fishing and camping like the dads on TV did with their sons. I wanted someone to love me and care for me. These childhood fantasies would fall woefully short of reality.

When I was ten, my mother moved us from California to Texas, along with a man shet'd met — my future stepfather. I was enrolled in a new school in a new state, and felt like an outsider all the way around. I was never very popular throughout middle school, and my acne limited my interaction with girls. My situation was made more difficult because I was one of only a few Hispanics in school — one of the "Mexicans," they would say with a sneer.

On top of that, I was also the smallest of the boys in my class. For our final physical education exam in eighth grade, we were required to pass a rope climbing course. I had two choices: I could prove to myself and everyone else that I was capable, or I could allow the negative voice in my head to ring true.

I remember every detail of that day clearly. Most of the boys took around fifteen minutes to climb the rope and ring the bell at the top. There were a couple of guys who had some trouble. As soon as I wrapped my hands around the rope, my knees began to shake. It took me what seemed like two hours to grab the rope, pull myself up with every ounce of my strength, which wasnt't formidable, and repeat the motion over and over. The idea of looking up was torture — it seemed so far away, but I was actually making progress.

When I pushed out that last iota of energy I had, and swished my fingertips against the bell, my life changed in a profound way. I had conquered that nagging voice. I had won. It just hurt like the dickens, both physically and emotionally. But I learned that day that I could act in spite of my self-doubt; I could push through fear and frustration and anger and sadness, and I could come out victorious.

It was a powerful accomplishment in my eyes, and with a new sense of self-confidence, I decided I wanted to play football in high school. I knew I wasnt't big enough or fast enough, though. However, being on the football team would help me make friends, I was sure of that, so I spent that summer working out hard, and I got stronger. Now there was a voice encouraging me to counter the self-defeating voice in my head. This one said, "That's it! It's time to step up to the plate! No more being a victim! Let's see some fight!"

It was like a bolt of lightning. I wasnt't going to let anyone tell me I was too small or too brown or too poor. As I repeatedly worked my muscles, day in and day out, my body grew, both in height and stature, which acted as even more of an incentive. By the start of the school year, I had transformed myself from a weakling into a buffed athlete. I was accepted by the team in my freshman year.

I wasnt't done yet, though. The physical goals It'd met brought the realization that hard work could bring results. I had now learned that facing something head on, rather than running away, sometimes works, and with my new burgeoning confidence, I decided to go out for track.

Long distance running held a special appeal for me. It made me feel strong and the process of pushing through the agony of pain and taking that next step when my tank was on empty made me feel empowered like never before. Passing the finish line, knowing It'd given it everything I had, gave me a feeling of ecstasy. Running long distances also got me out of the house and gave me time to think. And for the first time in my life, girls were noticing me. I loved to win, and I loved the attention that came with it.

I noticed that speed runners got even more admiration from the coaches and the other kids, so I thought about entering the 880-meter race at a district track meet. The coach didnt't think I was fast enough, but that didnt't faze me. I asked a friend to borrow his shoes, because he had the correct type for sprinting.

The gun went off and thirty kids ran like the wind. I focused only on the ground in front of me, blocking out any distractions, including the internal ones I still had a tendency to create for myself. The local newspaper ran a photo of me coming toward the home stretch — the picture made it look as if I was in the lead, though in the end, I placed sixth. The way I saw it, there were twenty-four other runners behind me. My coach was shocked. I was honest enough to tell him that the shoes It'd borrowed were so tight, It'd been racing just to take them off!

When I was twelve, my mom married my new stepfather, Narciso. She seemed to love him and he seemed to love her, but I also realized, even at a young age, that she was in desperate need of companionship and someone to help her with the rigors of daily life. Neither one of them explained their relationship to us; adult matters were kept private at my house. I resented him terribly, though. We argued frequently and I was furious about him becoming part of my family.

He wasnt't a kind man — he ranted and raved and told me I was a failure, over and over again. He repeatedly said It'd never amount to anything, that I was "no good." My mother kept her silence in front of him, and told me confidentially to just "let it go." He, in turn, resented me because I was another mouth to feed, another distraction for my mother, another responsibility. Things progressively got worse at home when I learned that he was involved in drugs and had spent time in jail. I was ashamed and embarrassed because he didnt't look like any of my friends' dads. It was bad enough being one of the only Hispanic families in town; now I had a shady dude for a stepdad.

Narciso had a relatively good job and he supported the family to a certain extent, but he had a pronounced dark side that scared all of us. Weird looking characters came around the house speaking in hushed tones and making exchanges. Sometimes I could tell he was high. I hated him for putting my family in harmt's way, and I was afraid that if he went back to jail, my mom would have to go, too. The thought infuriated me, and my rage grew as time went on. Open and honest discussion was not welcome in my home — everything was swept under the carpet, and even my mother acted like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. I thought about turning him in, but I was afraid. His anger intimidated me more than anything else, and I couldnt't think of hurting my mother.

Eventually, it got so bad that one night, while he was asleep, I crept into his room with a loaded shotgun — his own. I was 16-years-old. While I listened to his guttural snores, I put the muzzle to his head. My finger lingered near the trigger as I sat for what felt like an eternity, thinking about what I was about to do. If I got ten years for my crime, It'd still be in my mid-twenties when I got out. I was actually able to rationalize the act. I looked at my mother and I realized that I would, in effect, be killing her, too. Shet'd already been through so much. I lowered the weapon and walked away. Within days of that incident, I took my mothert's car and drove one hundred miles to my aunt's house in Brownwood, Texas.

I had already had my fair share of traumatic experiences as a teenager. A number of illnesses and injuries had sidelined me. It'd had knee surgery after a football injury, but at least there was some honor in that. Then, driving over ninety miles an hour, I hit a parked car. The cart's engine ended up in my lap, face, and shoulders. I thought my time was up. It was late at night, and as I stood leaning against the empty car It'd hit, somebody stopped. A couple of guys piled out, hardly able to speak, they were so drunk. A third man inside the car convinced them to leave the scene rather than help me. Minutes later, another man stopped and called an ambulance. He saved my life. At the time of the accident, I had just been released from the hospital for a bad case of pneumonia. Oddly enough, I was always placed in the same hospital room. The nurses said they were going to name it after me. It'm not superstitious, but that gave me pause. Maybe God was somehow testing me, I thought.

I was sued as a result of the accident while I was living with my aunt. To my astonishment, the father of a high school friend, Bob Hinds, came to my aid. He was a sheriff, and his wife worked for child protective services. Somehow, Bobt's father got me out of trouble. Bob also told me that I was missed at school, and that really surprised me. What surprised me even more was the offer of a home — Bobt's parents invited me to live with them. I moved back to my home town, lived with the Hinds family during my junior year, and re-established contact with my mother. At some point, it was suggested that Mr. and Mrs. Hinds become my legal guardians. I spoke to my mother about it, unaware what her reaction would be. I thought she would be relieved, but instead, her grief was immediate and profound. She said, "If they become your parents, you will no longer be my son." I moved back to my mothert's home with the knowledge that I would soon be graduating, and I would be able to leave home as an adult. My stepfather and I succeeded at avoiding each other most of that time. He still had no idea how close It'd come to ending his life.

By the end of high school, like most kids, I had no idea what I wanted to be or where I wanted to go. I lacked direction. Every summer, my mother had sent us to Bible camp. It was a win/win situation for everyone. She got a break from the kids and we got hot meals. The church folks had always shown me love and attention, something that was scarce in our home, and that's where I had found the acceptance It'd so desperately craved. I felt like I belonged there. It was the one place I could go where the color of my skin, what I looked like, or where I came from didnt't matter. They always welcomed my siblings and me with open arms and a cheerful demeanor. In fact, relatively speaking, they treated us like we were royalty.

With graduation approaching, I decided to plan my future around the church. I became licensed as a Baptist minister at the age of seventeen, and worked at the Mount Lebanon Baptist camp as a lifeguard and preacher, speaking to 1,500 kids at a time. I held a football in one hand and I spoke about standing up for Christ and how difficult that could be — how difficult life in general could be.

It was thrilling and a foreshadowing of the path I would take later in life. I found that religion gave me hope. It gave me a pure vision of honesty, kindness, and reaching out to each other — helping someone in need, listening to them, and trying to be of help somehow. The feeling was mutual. It may sound corny to some, but the church community filled my heart.

At the same time, I was developing a love for art. An art teacher at school, Patty Crane, took a liking to me and saw some promise in my work. She became one of the first people in my life to actually encourage me. Under her wing, I began to entertain thoughts of what I could do rather than what I couldnt't do. I thought it was crazy at first, but she made me repeat a mantra: "I can do it," that came from somewhere deep inside, despite all the obstacles I had faced.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Stepping into Greatness by Daniel Gutierrez. Copyright © 2011 Daniel Gutierrez. Excerpted by permission of Morgan James Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Morgan James Publishing
• Publication date: 2012
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1614480753
• ISBN 13: 9781614480754
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 198