Author Clayton Bye

Richard Bartholomew's little brother sat on the bottom stair and studied the line that bisected the rock-walled basement.

"What's the speed of dark?" he asked.

Trying to ignore the sudden knot of pain in his stomach, Richard answered. "Doesn't have a speed, Tim," he said. "Darkness is just the absence of light."

Shadows, almost life-like in their furtive movement, crawled a few more inches away from the walls. Richard pretended not to see them.

"Light moves fast?" Tim asked.

"Nothing's faster," Richard said.

Small windows atop the western wall glowed with that special golden light which always seems to be reserved for crisp, autumn evenings. These tiny glass squares of life cast beams of airy gold into the spreading gloom. Billowing ribbons of dust danced along the slender rays, entertaining the watching boys, distracting them until the darkness closed in, until the colour of the light changed and took on the hue of blood.

Suddenly, Richard heard his mother's voice within his head. "I've had enough. One of you has to go."

She'd stood as a rock in the middle of the hall, blocking the way out to the world. Had taken her purse up before speaking, dug out the keys to the old Motor Cart. Then, casually, as if instructing him to do something as mundane as washing the breakfast dishes, she'd made her wishes clear.

"You decide," she'd said. "But I want somebody gone by dark."

Mother had locked them down-as she always did when going out. The rumble of the engine as she eased down their gravelled drive reminded Richard of distant thunder. A cold shiver walked up and down his spine. Bile rose in his throat.

Richard wiped the memory from his mind and joined his brother on the steps. He could feel the younger boy tremble. The cool, dry basement air was sour with the scent of Tim's fear. A centipede scurried across the floor, its serpentine movements and glossy red skin the perfect harbingers of this night.

"How do we get out of this?" Richard asked himself.

Action was required. Becky had proved that. Nobody gets to refuse mother. Not even once.

Tim had Becky's eyes. Richard had been able to keep her alive in his mind because Tim had her eyes. Grey. With striations of blue and yellow.

"Wanna try busting a window, Tim?" he asked.

Tim looked up at Richard with his copies of their sister's long-dead orbs and said, "Can't bust those rocks. So what good is it gonna do?"

"We can't just sit here and wait for it, Tim. She don't take no for an answer. We gotta get out."

"Window's too small," Tim said. "Ain't no way to change that."

Both boys allowed their gaze to follow the lines of the walls. The basement had nothing in it but the stairs on which they sat, four bare rock walls, a hardened earth floor and a couple of rows of six-inch windows. They'd already tried to force the door at the top of the stairs. Hadn't managed it. Not even when there had been three of them.

"Can you make me not afraid, Richard? Can you make it so I don't have to go into the dark?

Richard started crying.

"Watch the windows, Timmy," he said. "Let the sun fall on your face."

Tim got up and walked over to one of the diminishing beams of light. He turned toward the window from which the beam originated, then stepped into the path of the reddening light.

"Richard!" he exclaimed. "It's still warm.

The older boy didn't have the heart to tell Tim that the warmth would fade, that there was no way to escape the darkness. Their problem wasn't the speed with which darkness travelled, he thought, but one involving the very nature of darkness.

Richard hung his head, tears darkening the soil below. He didn't know how to explain that the dark was already here. It had always been here.

copyright © 2007 Clayton Clifford Bye

We were mice, moving through a myriad of tunnels in the north field. There were five of us in there. Hadn't heard or seen anyone in more than half an hour.

I'd come to a crossroads. I was pretty sure the tunnel on the right headed to the northeast, eventually coming up against the eastern fence. The tunnel on the left would take me to the north and another fence, or, if I stayed left all the way, it would split and end at the western opening, near the water pump which sat at the very edge of the woods.

I laid on my back and stared at the sunlit ceiling above me. Someone walked overhead. Searching for mice no doubt. I stayed still and chewed on a long frozen stalk of field grass I'd pulled from the from wall of the tunnel. No danger here. My friends and I had never seen the like: you could jump up and down on top of any of the tunnels and never even make a crack. The crust of ice-fused snow must have been at least two inches thick.

We had played all sorts of games on the field this winter, overtop the tunnels: lacrosse, boot hockey, broomball. Christmas holidays had never been this much fun.

I don't remember who thought of the tunnels. I think we started out building a fort and someone decided to dig a protective cave at the back of it. Genius from such a simple idea. When we realized the crust would hold our weight-even when all the snow beneath it had been removed, the digging began in earnest.

The adults had no idea what we up to, and in the following days we built such a complex set of trails, you could almost get lost in there.

I used the tunnels as a hiding place when it came time to pump and carry dozens of pails of water up to the house (mom used them for washing clothes).

The girls would disappear at odd times without warning. My brother and I had figured out they had a little room somewhere near the centre of the field. We just hadn't been able to find it yet; I wasn't sure I wanted to.

The tunnels became something special to us-magical for sure-but something even more, a thing we could feel in our bellies and in the thudding of our hearts, yet couldn't name. All I know is that each of us were enamoured for the few weeks the cold weather kept the crust nice and firm.

Then came the day-this day- when with no warning at all a foot appeared through the roof of the tunnel, just a few feet away from my head. A second foot soon followed.

I called everyone out. We gathered in a mournful circle around the hole in our tunnel, knowing without speaking that the fun was over for now. None of us imagined that it would be forever.

Copyright © 2008 Clayton Bye

Happenstance is but a way of words,

The stumbling path of fools;

Yet a trail met in the wooded night

Cares not for weathered rules.

Deaf and dumb goes the traveller

Toward the outward shape;

Glancing not beneath the rock and leaf,

A sketch of the human ape.

But in vapid searching one still learns

To scratch the inner vein.

Eyes roll and bangles burn in that light-

The answers seem insane...

For piercing the learning dark we see

New visions clear and clean,

Struggling with our ever cluttered minds

To grasp what they might mean:

A white-winged horse and a graceful moon

Seek form in mountain fire,

While I, the fool, not too simple yet

Of ornaments do tire.

Copyright © Clayton Clifford Bye 2008

at contiguous depths

send blue lightning

across clouded voids

and are caught

by red-laced fingers

to recreate

the perfect sound

of a drop of water

splashing on skin.

Copyright © Clayton Clifford Bye 2008

radiant beams
a hole in the clouds

gossamer strands
speak out loud

warmed heart
a child's eyes aglow

soul is livened
I drive slow

Copyright © Clayton Clifford Bye 2009

A crystal passage from here to there

But no light with which to see.

"So what?" He asks with bitterness,

That door is closed to me.

Copyright © Clayton Clifford Bye 2009

Her darkness beckons to me

From the distance of a winter night,

To walk upon ancient and unknown shores

Without the use of seeing eyes.

Her grace is cast on the moon,

Black hair glistens in the light,

And with the cold, harsh wind

A teardrop falls into my dream.

Ease by rock so wet and black,

Taste the salt upon her lips;

Keep those hard-found treasures:

The ice-cold stone becomes so thin.

Oh, I can see the beauty,

Or find warmth beneath the darkened land,

But will I ever know from what still pool

Came that pure water in her hand?

Copyright © Clayton Clifford Bye 2009

An excerpt:

BRIM TALLSHIP could trace his ancestry back to Plymouth Rock. But not in the way you might think. Brim's forefathers had been among the people who watched the ships (those creaking, wooden mammoths which eventually gave him his name) glide into the quiet coves of that ancient land. He was of the Wampanaog tribe, the people of the dawn who lived on the eastern shores of what is now known as America, planting and harvesting corn and squash and beans, fishing lake and ocean alike, hunting all manner of bird and mammal-moose and deer, wolf and wildcat, otter and fox and turkey.

Today, the Tallship name wasn't recognized by the elders of the nearly extinct tribe. The family bloodline had mixed first with Narragansett (the Nanigansek Sovereign Nation), then Cherokee and Ojibwa. Yet Brim knew his lineage and was proud of it.

That he was a pastor in a small church in a small town in Canada surprised some. That he also happened to be a medicine man well-versed in the art of his people shocked many. Brim Tallship didn't care. A holy man just as likely to prescribe a sweat lodge as he was to suggest prayer, Brim had gladly slipped into the melting pot of Canadian culture.

Consider his current task: Brim, who was on his way to visit a stranger, had been asked to wear two hats. "The man's just about dead, pastor," the old woman had said. "Ricky Skead found him on the road. We got him at the Day Care. Don't want no doctor, so you better bring some tobacco and your bible." (Tobacco has long been used by first nations people to communicate with the supernatural world and to ease many ailments. Tobacco has also been mixed with other herbal ingredients to form a remedy known as Kinnikinnick.)

The Day Care was out at The Gap.

Even though the band's name was changed to Anishinabe of Wauzhushk Onigum Band on 24 February 1992 by Band Council Ruling 95, local's still refer to the reserve as Rat Portage or The Gap. One reason is that the Wauzhushk Onigum first nation owns the tract of land that runs alongside the world famous Devil's Gap, a narrow channel on Lake of the Woods guarded by an Ojibwa spirit rock painted in the likeness of an evil-looking human. Another reason is that Kenora, the town that begins where The Gap ends, used to be called Rat Portage. The story goes that a flour company refused to build a large mill in the town because it didn't want its product associated with a rat. The company won the battle. Rat Portage became Kenora, a combination of three existing communities: Keewatin, Norman and Rat Portage. Wauzhushk Onigum continued to carry the Rat Portage name for many more decades, and Kenora residents can't seem to give it up.

The man appeared to be some sort of vagrant. His clothes were worn and unusual, made of some weird combination of dirty leather and burlap. He was too far gone to speak, although he was still conscious.

Brim did what he could with prayer and with the old medicines. There didn't appear to be anything physically wrong with the stranger, so they would just have to wait and see.

* Paperback: 288 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (Mar 2005)
* Language: English
* Price: $13.99 CAD, $9.99 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9698428-5-6
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9698428-5-9
* Product Dimensions: 17.8 x 10.2 x 1.3 cm
* Shipping Weight: 250 g

The Garden of Eden isn't what it used be. Fallen gods have risen. Evil witches prowl the streets at high sun. Satan's acolyte has opened a door to Earth. Behind it all is tycoon and magicker Morgan Heist. He doesn't care about the repercussions. The time has come to risk everything for... THE SORCERER'S KEY

Jack Lightfoot has spent most of his life in hiding on Earth, so it's not surprising that his response to being confronted by a bounty hunter from Eden is anger and resentment. But no one could have predicted his decision to intervene in the twenty year fight between his father and Morgan Heist.

So begins a voyage of self-discovery destined to uncover a secret originating with Adam & Eve, one that jeopardizes Jack's freedom, risks the life of the girl he loves and may forever alter the existence of people on two worlds.

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Excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Creote grunted when he hit the ground. He lay still for a moment, hoping to catch his breath. No such luck.

The heaves struck with an intensity that terrified, forcing his body up and away from the unyielding earth until all that held him aloft was his forehead at one end and his toes at the other. Comets of light stormed behind his closed eyelids. Blood roared in his ears. He struggled for air.

Another spasm wrenched his innards. Creote grabbed his stomach and fell back onto the sun-baked soil. Lying on his side now, he began to writhe, oblivious to the small bits of stone and twig that bit into his face.

Trembling muscles clenched again, forcing spew from the man's lips. He hadn't eaten anything this time, thinking it would lessen the ordeal. Even so, the heaves were so intense he felt as if his ribs were cracking.

He gagged, tried to get his lungs to unlock. Couldn't do it.

Flares continued to ignite behind his eyelids, becoming ominous, fluttering, black and red splotches that left him swimming with dizziness. Still he heaved.

There came a terrible braying in the background. Creote realized the sound had to originate with him, the knowledge coming as a cold blade of panic in his chest.

By sheer effort of will he pushed himself to his knees, ropes of mucous, puke and snot hanging from his nose and mouth. A second, Herculean thrust brought him to an upright kneel. In this position, with arms wrapped around his ribs, Creote looked as if he'd sustained a terrible wound and was trying to hold the pieces of himself together.

The watchers sat white-knuckled as another visible wave of pain ripped through the man's body. They were right to be concerned. This was Creote's third trip to Earth, and the effects of passage were probably going to kill him.

Creote swayed. His chest heaved. He finally managed to get some air into his constricted lungs. But it was wasted effort. He knew this. The torture would continue; the sickness would have to run its course.

So, on the edge of unconsciousness, slumping down to the ground beside a pool of his own waste, body jerking and weak, arms still forming a protective jacket around his torso, the man quit fighting.

A brutal half an hour passed.

The body spasms stopped. Creote's breathing steadied. His eyes opened. But he remained where he was, motionless, showing no other signs of life.

A gentle wind danced in and out of the clouds and filled the air with the melancholy rustling of leaves. Grasshoppers snap-snapped noisily in the long grasses. One of the insects dropped into Creote's field of vision, its weird, sideways flight allowing the human to watch the bug as it passed along the entire length of his body.

Somewhere in the pines that bordered the field in which the man lay an angry squirrel let loose a characteristic "Chitchitchitchitchit."

Then came the whoosh of giant wings as an ancient raven flew overhead. The bird gave one deep, reverberating croak and disappeared over the tree tops.

More long minutes trickled by.

Those watching him had given up, were discussing who they'd sacrifice next, when Creote stirred. He struggled to his feet, gave a halfhearted wave to his invisible audience and, taking staff in hand, began the long walk into town.

CHAPTER ONE

I was crouched behind a garbage bin at the Safeway building. Had to get to the docks on the other side of the store before the bounty hunter showed up. Needed to be quick about finding a ride onto the big lake. Maybe I'd steal a boat.

Lake of the Woods is a huge lake in Northwestern Ontario that extends southward from the city of Kenora to the United States. With over fourteen thousand islands and one millon miles of shoreline, it's also a vacation paradise, one of the hideaways of the rich and famous. I've never met anyone who knows just how many camps, houses, mansions and compounds have been built out there. (Think of a city that has been split into thousands of fragments and put afloat.) It changes all the time; you can come around the point of some island and find a sprawl of buildings that weren't there last summer. The way I figured it, nobody from away was going to find Jack Lightfoot once I put a boat under my feet.

I crossed the parking lot and headed down the runway to the docks. A few Lakers were loading groceries into their shiny water toys. Two girls were flirting with a blond boy who was leaning over the fence that runs alongside the parking lot. An employee was gathering up stray shopping carts. There was no sign of the bounty hunter.

One of the Lakers looked familiar, so I took a chance and said, "You're Ches Prescott, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"I did some work on the fireplace in your guest house a few years back. Bob Greenwood had the contract, and I was the summer help."

His wife smiled. "I remember him, Ches. He did such a nice job cleaning up after the work was done."

The compliment gave me an opening. I nodded my appreciation and said, "I'm sorry to bother you folks, but I need to get out to Martin's Island. It's right on your way... Would it be too much trouble?"

They looked at each other, communicating in that expressive silence reserved for long-time couples. I stood there, bit my tongue, waited.

After an interminable silence, Mr. Prescott made his decision. "Hop in boy," he said. "Guess it's the least we can do."

I was into the big Chris Craft and had thrown off the lines before Mr. Prescott managed to reach his leather captain's chair. His missus indicated I should take a seat beside her, and we talked while he cranked up the inboard. She was pleasant company; I was a wreck.

The hunter stepped up to the parking lot railing as we backed away from the dock. He stood there among the have-nots, those regular townspeople who can't afford the Prescott's kind of boat but who often congregate to dream the dream, just another pair of wistful eyes watching a coveted thing slip away.

I turned my back on him.

The motor gurgled in the creek water, and the sun beat down on us with all its summer heat. Mr. Prescott navigated the cruiser up the channel, under the bridge and then, picking up speed, turned south toward Devil's Gap.

With seagulls whirling and squawking high above, a silent enemy receding into the distance and the wind and water all around, I looked outward into the world I'd known since I was a toddler and wondered if it would ever feel safe again.

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* Hardcover: 223 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (June 2008)
* Language: English
* Price: $120 CAD, $85.68 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9739933-9-1
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9739933-9-4

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Excerpt:

Chapter 2

The Bare Knuckle Approach

Objectives: What to do if you don't have an MBA. Introduce the concept of "synergy," and identify the lack of it as a major problem facing small businesses. Also, as many owners and managers fail to view their business as a money making machine, I'll begin to develop this extremely important metaphor.

Reality check... The only way I (and most small business owners) can afford to hire someone with an MBA is on a commission basis. What do think of our chances of success? Another route is to find someone who's come by the required knowledge experientially. And guess what? Most of us are working for ourselves. Bare Knuckle MBA offers a viable alternative.

The primary focus of this work, as a whole, will be to walk you through a (simplified) MBA-based business start-up, highlighting the methods you can use to get the most from each part or system in said business (viewed as a money-making machine). The examples used represent real statistics and numbers taken from company documents as well as from statistical tables. I don't expect you to do anything that hasn't already been applied successfully in business.

As you and I visit each important aspect of business, great care will be taken to stress steps you can take to create synergy (the interaction or cooperation of all your business systems to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects). The reality being that the greatest inefficiencies in business occur because of friction between the parts of the money-making machine. Particular emphasis will be placed on the management of money, people and product.

In addition, you'll be provided with at least one immediately applicable business tool for each system discussed, any of which can provide a good return on your investment. Filled with over 20 years of both hands-on and researched business knowledge, Bare Knuckle MBA contains what you really need to know to run and sustain a profitable business. These are tools your company can use internally to create a machine capable of leading the pack.

Bare Knuckle MBA is a low cost program that business owners can implement after one day of training. It's practical and invaluable.

But beware:

potential doesn't always equate to actual success.

For example... I pay you one dollar. Can you tell me where each penny of that revenue will go (within your business)? Can you do it on the spur of the moment? What are your working ratios for the major systems that comprise your operation? Can't answer? YOU MUST KNOW YOUR BUSINESS! I'll help you to gather and learn those numbers.

Theme: Roads Less Traveled

* Paperback: 164 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (June 2008)
* Language: English
* Price: $19.95 CAD, $14.24 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9739933-5-9
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9739933-5-6

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Excerpt:

A casual hike in the early 1980's changed the course of my life. I was a meteorological technician stationed at Alert, a Canadian military site on the upper tip of Ellesmere Island, just a few hundred miles from the North Pole.

I'd persuaded an army buddy to accompany me on a prospecting trip for some of the unique black crystals that were on display at the base. We spent a few hours working our way through a maze of gullies, fording ice-rimmed streams, even crossing paths with a herd of reindeer. Another thirty minutes of walking over relatively level bench land saw us arrive in a narrow valley formed by the bases of the twin mountains we'd chosen as our destination.

Unaccustomed to such treks, I found myself winded and loath to take another step. I set down my pack, lowered an aching body to the ground and tried to put my focus elsewhere. It wasn't long before I noticed the face of the smallest mountain was covered with ugly scars.

"Those are holes left by people who were digging for crystals," my friend said.

"What about the other one?" I asked, indicating the unblemished surface of the larger sister.

"No one goes up there," he replied. "No crystals."

We turned our attention to laying out a lunch of sandwiches, fruit and hot coffee. Then, sitting with our backs against the foot of Big Sister, sheltered from the wind yet able to enjoy the sun, we studied the mountain in front of us and contemplated our next task.

My companion wanted to work some of the existing holes on the lower slopes, but something about those excavation marks didn't sit well with me. I bit into a sandwich, turned my gaze away and looked up at the pristine slopes of Big Sister.

It came to me then, an old Robert Frost poem entitled The Road Not Taken. The implication seemed obvious: Two roads diverged, and I was going to take the one less travelled. Still, I invested a few moments to make sure I really wanted to give up my chance to acquire the rare stones I so admired. In the end, though, I chose to persuade my friend to change targets, to join me in climbing the mountain no one visited.

And what a climb it was! You'd take a step, sink at least ankle-deep into loose shale, then struggle to keep from slipping backward. Two steps up, slide a step back. Sweat poured. A stitch developed in my side. Lungs clamoured for air. Both of us questioned my intelligence.

Until, that is, we reached the summit and found a cairn that couldn't be seen from the ground. About four feet wide at the base and just as high, the unexpected mound of rough stones made quite an impression.

"Built to last," my friend commented.

He and I caught our breath. Then, both being convinced the structure served a special purpose, we began to poke and prod the thing. Our excitement was palpable, and justified. Within minutes we discovered a pipe protruding from one corner of the cairn's foundation. In a hollow behind the pipe was a metal box which contained, written on scraps of paper, the names and comments of adventurers who'd come before us. Some dated back to the early 1960's.

After adding my name to the cache, I walked to the northern edge of the mountain, leaned into the wind, and stared out over the partially frozen Arctic Ocean. To the East, the mountains of Greenland rose upward out of the sea. Inland and to the west, the sun glinted off Ellesmere's peaks. Some twenty years later, I still consider it one of the perfect moments of my life.

An important lesson was offered to me the day I left my name on that mountain at the top of the world. I learned to walk the unbeaten path, began to understand the importance of taking unique, purposeful actions. And over the years, as this lesson became an ingrained part of my life, it slowly evolved into a guiding attitude I call The Philosophy of The Road Not Taken.

The investment world has developed a similar convention known as contrarianism. Advocates of this path pursue success through views and actions that tend to contradict prevailing wisdom. Sounds about right. Just call me The Contrary Canadian.

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* Paperback: 124 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (March 2005)
* Language: English
* Price: $14.95 CAD, $10.67 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9698428-7-2
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9698428-7-3

Harness The Power Of Contrarian Thinking, Point Of View, Focus, Selling, Questions, Goals, Beliefs, Marketing, Inspiration, Emotions, Mastermind, and Mentors.

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Excerpt:

Chapter 3

It's a slap in the face August morning. The kind that wakes you up in a hurry. Cold air, punching wind, constantly blurring eyes. Your hands so cold you find yourself wondering if you woke up in the wrong month. There's been no rain, but you'd never guess this from the surroundings. Great gobs of dew bend grasses low to the ground, and water flows in rivers from tree branches to the back of your neck. Out on the lake wisps of steam rise up to form fog dancers, ghostly, silent, moving rhythmically to the beat of wind-thumped waves crashing against the shore. An hour of walking along the northern cleft of the river, followed by a long climb through the high fields, has left me standing foot-wet and winded, so I pause for a moment to enjoy the fog and the wind and the waves. I'm anxious though, and as my breath returns, I find myself looking for the building I know is huddled amidst the trees.

There it is! The clouds have broken momentarily, and the sunbeams ripple lightly across the semi-exposed walls, turning logs a golden ochre, the windows bright, silver and mysteriously opaque. Looking at it thus, strangely coloured by the sun when all else is grey, I see the cabin as if I'd come upon it for the first time. All the varied pleasures that go hand in hand with the place swell up and leave me feeling as if this is where I'm supposed to be. The tiredness and the cold melt away. There's a renewed spring to my step. Determination courses through my veins. I'm recharged, motivated and ready for anything.

And it's nothing but a dream! Can you believe it? A collection of thoughts somehow has the emotional power to get me moving and keep me moving. These thoughts of what I might someday achieve work together to form a giant hand which pushes me inexorably forward.

You need a dream like this. Why? Plain and simply put, you'll endure anything if you believe it will provide greater benefits for you in the long run.

You see, even if you work toward a life that's fun, that's jam-packed with experiences you enjoy, you're still going to have some unpleasant experiences. Building joyful moments into your daily routine will allow you to counter some of these less pleasing events. A motivating dream will also help.

Think about it...You act for only two reasons: To avoid pain and to gain pleasure. This seems to be a fundamental survival trait, one so instinctive I suspect it's hard-wired right into our nervous system, a primitive force regulating the choices people make.

What does the pain/pleasure principle mean in everyday terms? If pain and pleasure govern your behaviour patterns, then everything you do must come down to one simple choice. This one choice, repeated minute after minute all the days of your life, can be illustrated with a simple question: Do I move toward this experience or away from it?

How can you conclude otherwise? Everything you do can be reduced to a choice between embracing or avoiding real and imagined experiences, and it has to happen like this because of the way we're built. We have that instinctive need I mentioned - that survival trait - which moves us away from pain or danger and toward pleasure or safety. Sure, it's quite possible for us to engage in painful or dangerous behaviours, but only if we've managed to somehow convince ourselves that these behaviours will lead to less pain or more pleasure in the long run. We can talk ourselves into doing anything if we can see something rewarding in it. And there you have all the justification you'll ever need for taking the time to get clear on what you want and why you want it; there's the reason for having a motivating dream like the one I shared with you.

We can get ourselves to do anything - provided we can envision the reward.

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* Paperback: 208 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (March 2005)
* Language: English
* Price: $14.95 CAD, $10.67 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9698428-8-0
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9698428-8-0

Practical Techniques for Building The Future You've Always Wanted.

~Discover how to get excited about life again~

~Unleash the power of dreams~

~Learn a five step formula for success~

~Find six words that can change your life~

~Acquire the three rules of communication~

~Develop thirteen ways to maintain a winning edge~

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Excerpt:

INTRODUCTION

I wrote this book in response to the many people in this world who believe they'll never achieve their dreams...

You can get what you want from life. I know it's possible. I've got more than twenty years of personal experiences on which to base such a statement. Twenty years of collecting techniques and putting them to use - in good times and in bad. Techniques without which I'm convinced I wouldn't be here today. In fact, one of the most basic ideas outlined in this book brought me back from the edge of emotional, physical and financial disaster to embrace a way of thinking that got me doing the things I want to do, building the lifestyle I want to live and enjoying myself in ways I never thought possible.

My journey began with the failure of a business I was trying to establish. Things weren't going well, and I mistakenly believed that a little more time and money would allow me to overcome my obstacles. There were signs of impending disaster everywhere, but I stubbornly refused to see them. I kept on making poor decision after poor decision until I ended up with a lot of angry creditors and a personal debt of $50,000.

What happened then? You could say that the situation moved in on me like a hurricane and ripped my life apart. I ended up in some serious trouble. People I didn't know started sending me threatening letters. My friendly banker stopped being friendly. Family members shook their heads and said "I told you so!" I became so desperate to get out of the financial hole I'd dug for myself that I lowered my standards of conduct. I made a series of choices that cost me my self respect.

And it didn't stop there! The financial pressures mounted until I became so worried, so frightened, that I couldn't sleep. I lost my health. I even lost the woman I loved.

Then came the day when everything I owned had been taken away (except my car, and that was going at the end of the week). There was no money for rent, no money for food, and I'd just been served with another set of legal papers. I approached a trustee and was told I didn't have enough money to make it worth his while to help me declare bankruptcy. There seemed to be no way out of my predicament.

I became irrational and emotionally unbalanced. I found myself driving around on the Q.E.W between Toronto and Hamilton, trying very hard to summon up enough self-loathing to drive headlong into one of the concrete abutments along the way.

I'll probably never know how many of those inviting cement walls appeared in my headlights, beckoned to me, then drifted slowly off into the darkness. I don't even know how long it was before I began thinking again And it doesn't matter. What's important is that my lifelong fear of death finally cleared my head and allowed me to think when I most needed to think. I was given the chance to realize just how close I'd come to making an irrevocable judgement on myself.

I pulled my car over to the side of the road and stepped out into a world full of noise and light and movement. It was incredible! Cars and trucks whipped by at tremendous speeds, their engines and tires creating an ocean of sound that ebbed and flowed in ever-changing patterns. All around me the lights of Hamilton rose up and blended with the clouds. Nothing was still. The air moved. The grasses and trees moved. The cars and trucks, and the people in them, moved.

But not me.

I stood in the midst of all that activity for a long time, looking for some kind of answer, looking for a way out. I struggled with my problems until my head ached with the effort. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. And still no answers came.

I could sense the panic closing in. I could feel the desperation settling on me like a heavy blanket.

Then it happened. The inspiration I so desperately needed somehow found its way to me. A single phrase came into my mind. It came, and it wouldn't leave. A time-worn phrase, a clich , an old bromide straight from the pages of one of the many motivational books I owned, an idea that has been with me in one form or another ever since that night: As long as there's life, there's hope.

You might think I was grasping at straws, but it was impossible for me to ignore the sudden feeling that I must begin to hope again. So that's what I did. I made an on-the-spot decision to believe that I could make the long climb back. With nothing more than the expectation of something better, I looked to the future and started moving.

The journey to where I am today was hard and often painful. There were many times when faith was the only thing standing between me and the destruction of everything I desired. But I did it! I came out on the other side of a spirit-crushing set of problems. A simple decision I made so long ago has had the power to change my life, to lead me down a path I'd never have taken otherwise - of that I'm convinced.

Today I live in a different part of the country, I'm married to a terrific lady, I've been graced with three beautiful children, I've reclaimed my self-esteem, and I'm pursuing my life-long dream of writing. Things are still hard at times, but I'm enjoying myself. Possibilities abound. Life is great!

A single thought changed the entire course of my life. I chose to hope, to trust, to expect a better future - making the simple decision to have faith, then following through with the best solution I could find to my problems. It was a blind leap that landed me in the future I've always dreamed about. The same thing can happen to you...

* Paperback: 70 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (March 2005)
* Language: English
* Price: $13.99 CAD, $9.99 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9698428-6-4
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9698428-6-6

Has fear or depression affected your lifestyle? Are you being overwhelmed by your challenges? Is the spectre of adversity guiding your decisions? Does it seem as if your dreams will never come true?

Take Heart! Author and trainer, Clayton Bye, presents a system that can help you clear away obstacles between you and your dreams. These simple, proven techniques have been used to:

- Stop Worrying

- Forget Fear

- Gain Self-Confidence

- End Anger

- Experience Greater Levels Of Energy

- Achieve Almost Any Goal You Can Imagine

Buy Paperback Now:
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

Clear: Free from anything that dims or darkens; bright; unclouded.

Would you enjoy spending your time on this earth free from anything that dims or darkens? It's possible. You can walk under bright and unclouded skies any time you choose. All you have to do is shed unwanted or negative emotion. I call the process Getting Clear.

This isn't a dream. You can opt to live a life of abundant joy, passion, enthusiasm and energy just as easily as you can make the thousands of daily decisions that lead to a life of lack. You are the fountainhead, the source, the originator of all your emotions. Barring physiological problems, you determine what you'll feel at any given moment in any given situation. It's a choice you make, over and over and over again - all the days of your life.

The first step to "getting clear" is awareness: What emotions do you find appealing? From this list, single out the emotion you'd most like to experience on a consistent basis. Is it love? Is it comfort? Is it self-confidence? Is it happiness, satisfaction or humour? Is it a combination of these feelings? What do you expect to achieve - in terms of emotions - because of the things you do?

Now, identify the emotions you don't like. Hint: What are the opposites of the emotions you just identified? What experiences - in terms of emotions - do you hope to avoid because of the things you do?

Emotion is one of the major forces in our lives. You don't race cars or skydive or travel or pursue a career or get married because of the physical results these activities will create - the trophies, money, lifestyle or companionship that your actions may bring. Look closely, and you'll see that what's important is the emotion evoked by the trophies, the money, the lifestyle or the companionship.

Emotion does more than drive us; I believe emotion sustains us. You race cars because controlling all that speeding machinery makes you feel powerful. You skydive because you find it exhilarating. You follow a certain career path because it's fun and generates strong feelings of satisfaction. You choose companionship because you enjoy how the relationship makes you feel. I can say with certainty that you don't make these behavioural choices so you can feel bad. Great emotions are lifestyle.

Become aware of what it is you want from life, then work to get free from anything that dims or darkens that vision. Get clear.

:

"Here's a hundred bucks," he said to me.

"What for?"

"Every time we've run into each other in the past, you've asked me how I am - and I've told you. Well, not anymore. In the future, I'm always going to answer 'Fantastic!' Then I'll tell you why. I'll give you solid reasons for my answer. Clay, I'm going to be so enthusiastic, you won't recognize me."

He looked at me, his head cocked, an expectant grin on his face.

"Yeah? So?"

He laughed. "Don't you see? Next time I run into you, and I do what I've said I'm going to do, you give me five dollars. If not, you give yourself five dollars. The only way I can get my hundred bucks back is if I consistently act the way I've promised. Isn't that a FANTASTIC idea?"

I had to chuckle. "It's something all right."

I was still chuckling as I walked away with his hundred dollars in my pocket. Too bad I didn't get to keep it.

:

The second step to "getting clear" is action: Small, achievable steps, taken on a consistent basis, not only move you inexorably toward the achievement of your dreams, they can also generate the emotions you want to experience. The idea is to pursue whichever task lies before you in a way that will allow you to generate the emotions most important to you.

The fellow in the last story did what I'm suggesting you do. He set things up so he had to be enthusiastic every time he saw me - or lose a hundred bucks. He gave himself one hundred reasons to take specific, consistent and effective action. What a superb way to achieve the feelings he wanted to be experiencing!

The next story illustrates my point in a different way. It also introduces the third step to "getting clear."

:

The matron of the house, while being well known for her bottomless larder and the magic she wrought with said provisions, was also just as well known for her religion.

Home late this Sunday evening, my grandfather took his position at the dinner table, passed his plate and got down to the business of eating. Our lady of the house cast a glance his way and asked in her thick brogue, "Have you been to kirk, Bill?" (Kirk is a Scottish term for church.)

Giving every appearance of being caught off guard, my grandfather replied "Yes."

The old woman watched as her boarder returned his attention to his plate. A few moments of silence ensued before she decided to swoop in for the kill.

"And what was the scripture?" she asked.

Bill slowly raised his head, stared her in the eye and said with great clarity of voice, "Behold, I was not there."

:

The third step to "getting clear" is analysis: Know where you've been, where you are and where you're going. Study the results of your actions. Identify what you've achieved and what you haven't.

Action always produces results. Getting from where you are to where you want to go is largely a matter of paying attention to those results.

Know what you're getting. If one action moves you along the road of your dreams while another leads you astray, strike the less effective action from your repertoire. Follow the map of your results! It's an approach that works.

My grandfather understood this fundamental truth. His comments in the preceding story were designed to diffuse the conflict building between himself and his matron. Astute analysis told him a clever and humorous response was the way to deal with the crafty landlady. Did she appreciate his wit enough that they both felt okay with the outcome? The pleasure he took from repeated telling of the story over the years left me believing the answer to that question is yes.

* Trade Paperback: 106 pages
* Publisher: Chase Enterprises (Jan 2004)
* Language: English
* Price: $14.95 CAD, $10.67 USD
* ISBN-10: 0-9698428-4-8
* ISBN-13: 978-0-9698428-4-2

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MOTIVATOR AND AUTHOR CLAYTON BYE offers an easy to use system to help you get what you want from life. It was taken directly from his own personal success program, and comprises a set of one hundred choices (or decisions) he used on a daily basis to create the life changes he wanted. This "Hundred" is the culmination of over a decade of work in the field of Personal Achievement.

This book will teach you to:

MAKE UNCOMMON CHOICES
by learning to think and act like a contrarian.

ACHIEVE REMARKABLE RESULTS
by using proven success tools every day.

STAY ON PURPOSE
by adopting a system designed to
help you go through each day
working on specific and powerful goals.

DO THE THINGS YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO
by making them part of your daily routine.

Excerpt:

WHY THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN

The Hundred was written to provide you with an easy to use system for achieving fundamental change in your life. It provides a methodology for outstanding achievement - without having to take a psychology major or having to spend a fortune on countless seminars. The Hundred does this by developing a simple idea in such a way as to provide you with daily steps you can take to create the lifestyle you want. And while it won't hold your hand or do your work for you, it will help you to understand the most important fundamental of success, ultimately putting you firmly in control of your destiny.

The fundamental of success I've just referred to is good decision-making, choices made for the single-minded purpose of consciously creating more of the things you want to have happen in your life.

You say you want more money, more joy, more spare time? Then the thing to do, the only thing to do, is make choices designed to achieve those dreams. And that's what The Hundred will teach you. This book is all about getting "on purpose." It's about deciding to live each day taking conscious actions that make dreams come true.

So, each day, for the next one hundred days, you'll be guided through a series of decisions designed to create specific effects or results. Some of these choices may not be an easy fit for you, but stick with them. They'll teach you about living your life "on purpose." In the end, I believe they'll bring you to a place where you'll be well equipped to begin the process of creating your own "Hundred."

Work on one choice each day for the next one hundred days. No breaks. No excuses. This isn't something you'll do and then toss away. Good decision-making must become part of your daily routine. It should become part of who you are.

Do your best with each exercise, but don't get hung up on being perfect. If you're stuck, go on to the next. You can always come back to the one you missed when you've had a little more time to get your mind around it. And should you really mess up on one of the exercises, completely failing to achieve what you set out to do, try again. Spend as many extra days as you want in order to get the results you're after. There are some assignments in The Hundred I've had to work on for months at a time. There are some I may always have to regularly revisit. The same could be true for you. My point? Don't worry about whether or not you're doing The Hundred right. The entire program has only one function: It's meant to teach you what it feels like to live your life "on purpose."

So, it's not the order in which you do The Hundred that's important, nor is it how many days you spend on a given exercise. It's not even whether or not you nailed the current assignment. What's important is going through each day with some specific purpose held firmly in mind. What's important is getting on target, getting focused, getting on purpose.

The process itself is simple: Set a goal, take specific actions to reach that goal, pay attention to your results (what you achieved and what you didn't achieve) and then make any necessary adjustments by setting new or modified goals. Do this day in and day out. Do it purposefully. Do it until it's habit. You'll find that the pursuit and achievement of your dreams will cease to be a matter of "If I succeed..." and will gradually become one of "When I succeed...."

Let's begin.

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