Based on recent feedback, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am no good at telling about myself. My dad’s sister chided me gently the other day, “If it weren’t for your husband letting us know about your life, we’d have no idea what was happening with you guys.” That was in the context of various life changes, mostly related to our careers.
A few days earlier, I had said to my older brother Dan, “I don’t like talking about myself.” I remember that moment, because he seemed genuinely surprised and commented in a bemused sort of way, “Well, I think you’re interesting.” Thanks, Danny.
Maybe my reserve comes from being misunderstood when I have tried telling what I think is the important stuff. A friend recently told me, after I attempted to tell about current life changes, that, “It sounds like you’re making the best of a crappy situation.” Oh, dear. Failure to communicate.
Let me try again. See, it’s more like this: I want to make sure I don’t blow a golden opportunity, which is this moment, right now. I don’t want to miss it by wanting more or looking too far ahead. It’s not a crappy situation that I’m making the best of. It is this gift of life, and I get to live it. Isn’t that amazing enough?
But people seem to want the elevator pitch about how we’re making money. Why? That seems so boring to me. When I am with someone I haven’t seen in a while, I want to listen deeply to that moment and create a memory with them, not rehearse a summary of my resume.
If I have to talk about a job, what I really want to tell about my work is stuff like this:
• Today my five-year-old son watched a video about innovation with me as I thought through potential creative elements of an upcoming event. He seemed genuinely interested. I felt the pieces of my life beginning to come together in a strange, unexpected way. He wanted to watch it a second time.
• There’s this wiry older gentleman I work with. He has piercing gray eyes and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up when he talks about how love can change the world.
• I sat in a meeting the other day as the president of the organization wondered aloud about the ripple effect of service instilled in the hearts of young people. Her candor took my breath away.
• I made my first call to a Congressional representative because of her. I cannot tell you why, except that I would not have been able to look her in the eye if I hadn’t.
• In the third toilet stall on the second floor of an office building I visit frequently, there is a magnet with a quote from Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. This part grabs me by the throat:
"…dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body."
• I always use that stall.
Is that what folks want to know? I can only imagine a blank stare if I tried to say all that in casual conversation.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Just show up, Part 2
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” – Romans 12:15 (NASB)
Since I was a teenager, I have heard people give inspirational speeches and testimonials about giving 110%, going the extra mile, doing more, pushing harder than anyone ever thought imaginable. These talks are always admirable and frequently moving. And yet, the logician in me often has been left with this embarrassing thought: I don’t get it.
How do you divide up a whole and end up with more than you started with (well, ok, unless you're performing a miracle like Jesus with the loaves and fishes)? There really is no more than 100%, is there? And isn’t 100%, well, er… enough? Or, maybe even – if all of us really tried – more than enough?
Recently, though, I have found that there is something much harder (and more important) than all this doing. In fact, I believe so much of the doing is a self-imposed distraction from the difficult work of just showing up.
When a writer or speaker repeats a point, it is generally worth paying special attention. In the short couplet in Romans 12:15, Paul repeats the almost invisible words “with those who.” I say almost invisible, because I often skip that bit to get to the meaty stuff: Rejoice! Weep! That’s where the action is, right?
No. I humbly admit that I have missed the point, until recently. And by missing the point, I have missed so much action by not showing up to be “with those who” do/feel/are whatever “those who” are. Oh, I have been physically present, for sure, but a million miles away on next week’s to do list. I have achieved a lot by most measures, and I can multi-task with the best of them. But I am awakening to a painful reality: I could have been more useful by doing less.
I am allowing myself this season to rethink what life might look and feel like if I just show up. Maybe when I play with my son, I don’t stop mid-giggle to check on the laundry. In conversation with my husband, perhaps I let him finish his sentence instead of hurrying him on by finishing it for him. As a friend weeps on my shoulder, just weep. When I write, allow the words to tumble onto the page before editing myself.
This “just showing up” business could change everything.
Imagine with me for a moment… a meeting at work in which everyone is fully present, not checking email or texting, listening to each other, not worried about the next meeting or deadline. In over twenty years of meetings, I can count on one hand those in which everyone “showed up” in that way. And they were amazingly productive and creative meetings. Game changers, if you will.
You can keep your 110%. Just show up to that one meeting – really BE there – and see what happens.
Since I was a teenager, I have heard people give inspirational speeches and testimonials about giving 110%, going the extra mile, doing more, pushing harder than anyone ever thought imaginable. These talks are always admirable and frequently moving. And yet, the logician in me often has been left with this embarrassing thought: I don’t get it.
How do you divide up a whole and end up with more than you started with (well, ok, unless you're performing a miracle like Jesus with the loaves and fishes)? There really is no more than 100%, is there? And isn’t 100%, well, er… enough? Or, maybe even – if all of us really tried – more than enough?
Recently, though, I have found that there is something much harder (and more important) than all this doing. In fact, I believe so much of the doing is a self-imposed distraction from the difficult work of just showing up.
When a writer or speaker repeats a point, it is generally worth paying special attention. In the short couplet in Romans 12:15, Paul repeats the almost invisible words “with those who.” I say almost invisible, because I often skip that bit to get to the meaty stuff: Rejoice! Weep! That’s where the action is, right?
No. I humbly admit that I have missed the point, until recently. And by missing the point, I have missed so much action by not showing up to be “with those who” do/feel/are whatever “those who” are. Oh, I have been physically present, for sure, but a million miles away on next week’s to do list. I have achieved a lot by most measures, and I can multi-task with the best of them. But I am awakening to a painful reality: I could have been more useful by doing less.
I am allowing myself this season to rethink what life might look and feel like if I just show up. Maybe when I play with my son, I don’t stop mid-giggle to check on the laundry. In conversation with my husband, perhaps I let him finish his sentence instead of hurrying him on by finishing it for him. As a friend weeps on my shoulder, just weep. When I write, allow the words to tumble onto the page before editing myself.
This “just showing up” business could change everything.
Imagine with me for a moment… a meeting at work in which everyone is fully present, not checking email or texting, listening to each other, not worried about the next meeting or deadline. In over twenty years of meetings, I can count on one hand those in which everyone “showed up” in that way. And they were amazingly productive and creative meetings. Game changers, if you will.
You can keep your 110%. Just show up to that one meeting – really BE there – and see what happens.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Just show up
I keep hearing this one thought threaded through all my other thoughts lately, repeating, pressing, insistent:
Nobody goes hungry at this table, no matter what you bring or don’t bring to the feast. You may come with empty hands, or you may contribute a slice of left-over slightly stale bread. Perhaps one time you bring a steaming pot of beef stew, another time a bottle of cheap red wine. Maybe your only contribution is cheerful chatter or sullen silence. Either way, there’s room at this table, and you will not leave hungry.
The only condition is that you show up. Come along, pull up a chair. Here, next to me, don’t be shy. Let’s eat.
Nobody goes hungry at this table, no matter what you bring or don’t bring to the feast. You may come with empty hands, or you may contribute a slice of left-over slightly stale bread. Perhaps one time you bring a steaming pot of beef stew, another time a bottle of cheap red wine. Maybe your only contribution is cheerful chatter or sullen silence. Either way, there’s room at this table, and you will not leave hungry.
The only condition is that you show up. Come along, pull up a chair. Here, next to me, don’t be shy. Let’s eat.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Self-employment benefits
A friend of mine recently asked how I'm managing in this gap-between-gigs period. Partly in response, partly because I felt like it, I started writing down what I call my "unemployment benefits"... a list of unexpected perks of not working. I thought when I finished them, they might be my next blog post. It included things like being able to go to the grocery store when it is practically empty, wearing pajamas at noon, taking long walks and happening upon a family of baby squirrels in an ancient tree trunk. Stuff like that. It's pretty awesome.
But I'm also antsy. I don't truly know how to relax. Although, last Sunday afternoon I did a pretty good job of it. The light rain outside and raw weather required a fire in the fireplace and a glass of sustenance (Cabernet). So I read poetry on the couch for a few hours, feeling very much like my cat Lucy (comfy, lazy, snug), who sat close beside me and purred. Our house guest from England thought she was in heaven -- or at least very near home.
So, to answer my friend's question, I think I'm doing just fine.
Oh, about that list of "benefits"... I decided not to finish it. Maybe that's the whole point, the best perk of unemployment (or self-employment, if you will). I get to decide what deliverables I ship and what gets to slip.
But I'm also antsy. I don't truly know how to relax. Although, last Sunday afternoon I did a pretty good job of it. The light rain outside and raw weather required a fire in the fireplace and a glass of sustenance (Cabernet). So I read poetry on the couch for a few hours, feeling very much like my cat Lucy (comfy, lazy, snug), who sat close beside me and purred. Our house guest from England thought she was in heaven -- or at least very near home.
So, to answer my friend's question, I think I'm doing just fine.
Oh, about that list of "benefits"... I decided not to finish it. Maybe that's the whole point, the best perk of unemployment (or self-employment, if you will). I get to decide what deliverables I ship and what gets to slip.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Contrarian Values
Now that I have completed my course of study for my masters in business management, and have some time in between full-time gigs, I realize that I fundamentally disagree with several standard business assumptions. So much for the degree!
The following set of mutually exclusive and collectively exhaustive principles make up my best thought (at this moment) on the right way to “do work.” I cannot prove that this set of five will make me rich, but I will not lose sleep by acting within these values.
[Note: When I refer to “client” in this list, I mean anyone you do work for. Who do you serve? What transactions are you making? At any time, your client could be your employer, employees, peers, customers, the office janitorial service, even your family members.]
1. Search out redundancies. Don’t take a penny of a client’s money in exchange for work if you know they have the time, talent, and will to do the work themselves. “Value added” to me is not about doing more than what the client paid you for in the first place. Value add is why they hired you. They do not have what you’ve got, so they are willing to pay for your added value.
The reverse is also true (and, perhaps, more obvious): If you don’t have the time, talent, and will to do the job, don’t take it.
2. Create independence. Make it clear to clients that you are not interested in a lifetime commitment, but a short-term boost of value that will set them on the path to independent success. (Do I need to say it? OK… As counterintuitive as this may seem, such a generous and disinterested commitment to someone else’s goals will gain you a lifetime fan. You may or may not do work with and for them in the future, but your return on investment is exponentially greater this way.)
3. Be invisible. Shine the light on your client’s achievements, contributions, thoughts, and goals, not your own. (Reread point 2 parenthetical.)
4. Reinvent the wheel. Your cherished system was created to produce a particular outcome. Challenge yourself constantly to justify the use of a system/tool/”wheel” based on the outcome you now want to achieve. You may find you no longer need a wheel at all, but something altogether different. Like a box.
5. Ignore the problem. Focus on where you want to be, not where you are. If you are driving on the highway and your car gets a flat tire, you do not mentally pause to consider the flatness of your back left tire, wondering what possibly could have caused such a puncture, while going 70 miles per hour north on Route 95. You focus on moving as quickly as possible to the side of the road, and then getting a replacement tire on the wheel.
Humans are naturally wired to move to solution mode nearly instantaneously. Why don’t we carry that focus into our work? In many cases, it is because we are trained to identify the cause or causes of the problem before going to the next step (fishbone diagram, anyone?). When it comes to human and organizational behavior, however, causal analysis is limited at best. Stop getting distracted by “figuring out” the problems. Create a vision of the future that makes the problems irrelevant, then go toward that vision.
As I stated up front, these are my best thoughts about how to “do work” at this time. These have come from my particular set of experiences, readings, learnings up to this point. I can’t say that I have always acted according to these values. But I have reflected on what happens when I have not. It’s not pretty.
Bottom line, as contrary to conventional wisdom they may be, I have never regretted being in alignment with these values.
The following set of mutually exclusive and collectively exhaustive principles make up my best thought (at this moment) on the right way to “do work.” I cannot prove that this set of five will make me rich, but I will not lose sleep by acting within these values.
[Note: When I refer to “client” in this list, I mean anyone you do work for. Who do you serve? What transactions are you making? At any time, your client could be your employer, employees, peers, customers, the office janitorial service, even your family members.]
1. Search out redundancies. Don’t take a penny of a client’s money in exchange for work if you know they have the time, talent, and will to do the work themselves. “Value added” to me is not about doing more than what the client paid you for in the first place. Value add is why they hired you. They do not have what you’ve got, so they are willing to pay for your added value.
The reverse is also true (and, perhaps, more obvious): If you don’t have the time, talent, and will to do the job, don’t take it.
2. Create independence. Make it clear to clients that you are not interested in a lifetime commitment, but a short-term boost of value that will set them on the path to independent success. (Do I need to say it? OK… As counterintuitive as this may seem, such a generous and disinterested commitment to someone else’s goals will gain you a lifetime fan. You may or may not do work with and for them in the future, but your return on investment is exponentially greater this way.)
3. Be invisible. Shine the light on your client’s achievements, contributions, thoughts, and goals, not your own. (Reread point 2 parenthetical.)
4. Reinvent the wheel. Your cherished system was created to produce a particular outcome. Challenge yourself constantly to justify the use of a system/tool/”wheel” based on the outcome you now want to achieve. You may find you no longer need a wheel at all, but something altogether different. Like a box.
5. Ignore the problem. Focus on where you want to be, not where you are. If you are driving on the highway and your car gets a flat tire, you do not mentally pause to consider the flatness of your back left tire, wondering what possibly could have caused such a puncture, while going 70 miles per hour north on Route 95. You focus on moving as quickly as possible to the side of the road, and then getting a replacement tire on the wheel.
Humans are naturally wired to move to solution mode nearly instantaneously. Why don’t we carry that focus into our work? In many cases, it is because we are trained to identify the cause or causes of the problem before going to the next step (fishbone diagram, anyone?). When it comes to human and organizational behavior, however, causal analysis is limited at best. Stop getting distracted by “figuring out” the problems. Create a vision of the future that makes the problems irrelevant, then go toward that vision.
As I stated up front, these are my best thoughts about how to “do work” at this time. These have come from my particular set of experiences, readings, learnings up to this point. I can’t say that I have always acted according to these values. But I have reflected on what happens when I have not. It’s not pretty.
Bottom line, as contrary to conventional wisdom they may be, I have never regretted being in alignment with these values.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The idea of tea
I love the idea of tea.
I collect tea pots. I grow herbs with the intent of brewing tea with them. Tea is comfort, warmth, gentle inspiration. Tea is my ideal.
The fact is, though, I rarely drink tea. My beverage of choice most days is coffee – hot, dark, and caffeinated. Some nights I go to sleep thinking, “I will wake up and drink a very dark, very hot cup of coffee.” Sad, but true.
Until recently, I could not explain this seeming schizophrenia of beverage loyalty. Recently, however, a friend showed me a piece of paper on which was handwritten in pencil two columns of words. In the left column were characteristics of left-brained people, and in the right were – you guessed it – characteristics of right-brained people. On the left were words like logical, analytical, and objective. On the right were holistic, intuitive, and random.
My friend, naturally, prompted me with, “Well? Which are you?”
I was stumped.
My reaction after scanning the list was, “I’m neither.” Then it was, “I’m both.” Then, ultimately, “It depends.”
It reminded me of a discussion of introversion and extraversion I had with my mom last Christmas. She told me I was neither – or both. She introduced me to a new term – ambivert – which is sort of like having an ambidextrous personality. An ambivert is outgoing when necessary and alone when necessary. It depends.
It’s like tea. Or coffee. It all depends on what is necessary for the moment. My brain is not confused about its orientation – it adapts to the need of the moment.
Which has led to another, even more recent, revelation. For me, sustainable, meaningful work adapts to the need of the moment. A time for creative collaboration requires open space, places to sit or stand or pace comfortably, a white board perhaps. Serious writing under a deadline requires isolation and an ergonomically correct workstation. Noodling on a problem – a comfy chair near a fireplace, soft music, a cup of herbal tea (yes, it occasionally fits the bill), and people wandering about that are just in the periphery of my sight line.
Work should be this wonderful. In writing it down, I make myself believe that it is possible.
I collect tea pots. I grow herbs with the intent of brewing tea with them. Tea is comfort, warmth, gentle inspiration. Tea is my ideal.
The fact is, though, I rarely drink tea. My beverage of choice most days is coffee – hot, dark, and caffeinated. Some nights I go to sleep thinking, “I will wake up and drink a very dark, very hot cup of coffee.” Sad, but true.
Until recently, I could not explain this seeming schizophrenia of beverage loyalty. Recently, however, a friend showed me a piece of paper on which was handwritten in pencil two columns of words. In the left column were characteristics of left-brained people, and in the right were – you guessed it – characteristics of right-brained people. On the left were words like logical, analytical, and objective. On the right were holistic, intuitive, and random.
My friend, naturally, prompted me with, “Well? Which are you?”
I was stumped.
My reaction after scanning the list was, “I’m neither.” Then it was, “I’m both.” Then, ultimately, “It depends.”
It reminded me of a discussion of introversion and extraversion I had with my mom last Christmas. She told me I was neither – or both. She introduced me to a new term – ambivert – which is sort of like having an ambidextrous personality. An ambivert is outgoing when necessary and alone when necessary. It depends.
It’s like tea. Or coffee. It all depends on what is necessary for the moment. My brain is not confused about its orientation – it adapts to the need of the moment.
Which has led to another, even more recent, revelation. For me, sustainable, meaningful work adapts to the need of the moment. A time for creative collaboration requires open space, places to sit or stand or pace comfortably, a white board perhaps. Serious writing under a deadline requires isolation and an ergonomically correct workstation. Noodling on a problem – a comfy chair near a fireplace, soft music, a cup of herbal tea (yes, it occasionally fits the bill), and people wandering about that are just in the periphery of my sight line.
Work should be this wonderful. In writing it down, I make myself believe that it is possible.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Something Soup
The past few days I've been battling a bad head and chest cold, with little motivation for anything but watching endless episodes of Top Chef and cooking with garlic. The latter may be caused by the former, or it may be a need for aromatics to penetrate the brick that has become my head.
In between cooking shows today I decided to make soup with what was left in the cupboards (we desperately need to get to the grocery store for a full restocking). What I came up with is worth noting... it was, well, good. I could taste it throught the cold, which is saying something. I want to remember what I did so can make it again.
For lack of imagination, I call it "Something Soup." Measurements listed below are totally arbitrary.
1. Thinly slice about 4 pounds of red potatoes, and put them in a large stock pot, covered with chicken stock.
2. Boil until potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Add 2-3 chopped jalapeno peppers, 4 cloves of garlic, and a 16-oz can of crushed tomatoes.
4. Add cumin, cayenne pepper, salt, and red pepper flakes to taste.
5. Let simmer about 5-10 minutes.
6. Take off heat, and blend with hand-held blender (or with a potato masher).
7. Stir in about a cup of shredded cheese (I used Monterey Jack, but cheddar would be good, too).
8. Put soup back on low heat, add a cup of frozen corn.
9. Heat until corn is cooked.
If I were to make this again, I'd add onion with the potato, and if I had any fresh herbs around, I'd throw them in, too. Otherwise, it was very satisfying. Would have been good with tortilla chips on the side (alas, we do not have chips in the house today, either!).
In between cooking shows today I decided to make soup with what was left in the cupboards (we desperately need to get to the grocery store for a full restocking). What I came up with is worth noting... it was, well, good. I could taste it throught the cold, which is saying something. I want to remember what I did so can make it again.
For lack of imagination, I call it "Something Soup." Measurements listed below are totally arbitrary.
1. Thinly slice about 4 pounds of red potatoes, and put them in a large stock pot, covered with chicken stock.
2. Boil until potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Add 2-3 chopped jalapeno peppers, 4 cloves of garlic, and a 16-oz can of crushed tomatoes.
4. Add cumin, cayenne pepper, salt, and red pepper flakes to taste.
5. Let simmer about 5-10 minutes.
6. Take off heat, and blend with hand-held blender (or with a potato masher).
7. Stir in about a cup of shredded cheese (I used Monterey Jack, but cheddar would be good, too).
8. Put soup back on low heat, add a cup of frozen corn.
9. Heat until corn is cooked.
If I were to make this again, I'd add onion with the potato, and if I had any fresh herbs around, I'd throw them in, too. Otherwise, it was very satisfying. Would have been good with tortilla chips on the side (alas, we do not have chips in the house today, either!).
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