"I am sending you out like sheep among wolves.  Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves."

                                                                                                                                  Matthew 10:16

I've been asked to speak to a group in a couple months on a topic entitled Trust & Influence.  I'm excited because these are really fascinating elements -- the sort that undergird virtually all human interactions. 

The amount of literature in these areas is super-duper-bountiful, so let's make some moonshine today by distilling a few key ingredients into a couple potent drops.  These will be my primary talking points for the group in April.

Let's start with Trust.  My perspective on trust is that it is currency, so I tend to think of 10 'coins' -- the Trust Coins if you will.  Now, none of these coins is 'new,' they are, in fact, abundantly found in one form or another throughout nearly all trust literature.  But I like thinking of them in terms of money because, essentially, we're either broke, flush, or break-even in our relationships with others.  As Covey might say, "If you're broke in your relationship with another person, you cannot make any withdrawals."  Conversely, those who love us extend a great deal of grace...a relational 'line of credit,' perhaps.  (As an aside, a word of wisdom: Obey the 'platinum rule' [which is even better than gold] by treating others as they wish to be treated.  The day will come, as it always does, when you will screw up royally and wish you had been nicer, more forgiving or...more gracious.)

In short, if you want to be 'relationally rich,' mind your coins.  Be approachable (open door, receptive), Know your audience (meet others where they are, not where you want them to be), Demonstrate character & integrity (consider your 'brand' and live a life whole and undivided; contrast this with many current politicians), Be competent, Find commonalities with others, Be credible (believable, reliable), Demonstrate empathy (remember, the boomerang often returns), Demonstrate win/win/win intent (you, others, the organization at large), Demonstrate propriety (appropriate professional behavior), and Live consistently (back to the idea of integrity, your pattern of behavior over time is a huge predictor for 'being counted upon' or not). 

Continuing to the notion of Influence, then, the correlations become clear.  Someone who is 'relationally rich' is vastly more likely to be influential.  But influence is an exceedingly deep and broad topic, so let's break it down into 2 bites: Principles & Personhood.

Essentially, influence manifests through two sources -- a half-dozen principles and about nine related aspects of one's personhood.

What does this mean?

Well, take principles, for instance, which are sort of like phenomena.  Where we see Consistency occur (for example, if you behave consistently 'good'), we tend to see influence increase.  Where we see Reciprocation occur (for example, you 'give' because you realize this increases the likelihood that you will 'get'), we tend to see influence increase.  And the same is true for Social Proof (a group of us stares at a building across the street and 'everyone' stops to stare...something must be going on or important!), and Scarcity (the fewer iPads available on Day 1 and the longer the lines will be), and Authority (a police officer's badge 'does' something) and Liking (those who are liked tend to be more influential than those who are disliked).    

But personhood, while conceptually related to these principles, is unique: it is influence that emanates from who you are more than what you do or solely how you behave.  Indeed, it's difficult to uncouple the two, I know, but think of it this way: a principle is something 'going on' while my personhood is 'who I am or how I'm perceived.'  Intertwined, yes...but distinct.  A skeptic might argue, "But isn't WHO I AM...WHAT I DO?"  And the anwer, of course, is complicated.  In short, it is 'yes, mostly...' but 'no, not necessarily.'  Perhaps more on that another day. 

Your 'personal' influence, then, often derives from nine common sources, two of which (Legitimate and Referent) overlap with principles I've described above.  Legitimate influence emanates from the fact that you are, say, the boss!  And as the boss, "What I say goes!"  (But only so far, in fact.  Legitimate influence is actually among the least influential.  After all, when the boss turns his back, what do we do?  That's right...now you've got the idea.)  Referent influence is similar to Likeability...I am attracted to you, for whatever reasons, and as a result I tend to like you and, therefore, I'm more inclined to be influenced by you.

The dark side to influence is that charlatans, sharks, snake-oil salesmen, con artists and Ponzi schemers exploit these principles and elements of personhood by pursuing just the right sort of pigeons/marks/prey most inclined to be influenced: those in distress, the lonely/isolated, the naive/trusting/gullible, the caregiver, the person who thinks he is smarter than the ploy or -- as Jesus Christ indicated in the scripture above -- those who traipse through life as doves, always trusting and denying the existence of wolves.  (Just because I deny their existence does not mean they don't exist.) 

By way of interest, Mensa members and Nobel Prize Laureates are regarded by con artists as easier prey because their success and confidence give them a false sense of security.  Luminaries reason, "I'm smarter than everyone I know.  No one can dupe me."  And voila, just like that the credit default swapper (aka 'institutional pickpocket') distracts them with feigned awe, ignorance, brilliance or a 'once-in-a-lifetime opportunity' that 'no one else sees,' pivots around their sense of imperviousness and takes them for all they're worth.

The remaining seven elements that shape influence include Affiliation (e.g., my mafia or gang membership gets me a good table on Friday night), Coercion (if you don't do what I say, I'm the type who will beat you about the head and shoulders with this bat), Competition (the pizza only has 8 slices and every piece I eat is one less for you, aka 'zero sum'), Expertise (I'm the doctor and what I say goes), Guilt (for as long as you disobey, you're in my doghouse), Information (I have the data and I lord it over you) and Reward (if you play nice, I'll give you a cookie).  No doubt, these seven elements have a lot to do with principles but, essentially, many people are 'wired' a certain way...nature, nurture, or the combination of both have shaped their personhood like a river stone and we come to 'know them' as being this way.  (There is, of course, flexibility or redemption, but these are unquestionably bigger topics for another month!) 

Summarizing then, Trust & Influence operate circuitously, one reinforcing the other.

On your journey to make the world a better place, keep a third eye on your own behavior (how you are seen, perceived) and the behaviors of others, lest you over or underestimate them.  Some are wolves in sheep's clothing -- seeking to manipulate and take advantage under guises, ruses, masks and the covers of trust...while others, like Christ himself, are mistaken by many for lunatics or heretics when they come open-handed with nothing but goodwill.

In his bittersweet swan song, The Last Lecture, Carnegie Mellon professor Randy Pausch shared countless pearls of wisdom about living and dying.  Ten months later, he died at the age of 48 from pancreatic cancer, but not before saying, "You have to decide if you're a Tigger or an Eeyore."

Every hour and minute of every day is difficult and tragic for someone somewhere.  I've touched briefly on the subject of grief over the years, but paraphrasing now Associate Justice Sonia Sotomayor, "What perspective does a WASPy, middle class, opportunity-fortunate American have?"  Perhaps very little...as little as a Princeton and Yale Law School graduate might have. 

A few statistics to set a baseline for 'perspective:'

1. 876,213 children were reported missing in the United States in 2000 (FBI National Crime Information Center).  Remarkably, the NCIC estimates that kidnappings comprise less than 2% of all violent crimes against juveniles reported to police.  This means that a lot worse is likely happening than we know.

2. In the summer of 1931, between 1 million and 4 million Chinese died in a flood. 

3. In 2004, approximately 230,000 innocents died in what is known as the Indian Ocean earthquake. 

4. An estimated 230,000 more died 35 days ago in Haiti. 

5. Between 1348 and 1350, 'The Black Death' pandemic killed an estimated 30-60% of Europe's population. 

The list of such atrocities, from those perpetrated upon the most innocent among us (children) by the most evil among us (ill and/or wicked adults) to natural disasters, is a long one.  For all intents and purposes, it might as well be infinite. 

As I glance through my last 155 blog entries, it appears that I've written about loss or death perhaps a dozen times.  Generally, I strive to encourage.  So why am I periodically moved to consider end-of-life issues, wisdom for my daughter, or matters as seemingly vainglorious as 'legacy?'

As someone who writes often and has for many years, writing becomes -- in retrospect -- a bit like a Rorschach inkblot...reflecting (obviously) one's thoughts and emotions.  The same is true for all of us, of course, though I doubt very seriously that busy people proofread, for the sake of comparison, archived emails as much as I do this blog.  What glutton would? 

I share these uncharacteristically personal and intimate thoughts for a reason.  Yes, there is a point.  I am going somewhere with this seemingly random stream of consciousness...hang in there. 

This has been a difficult week, but only temperately compared to the grievous losses sustained by two dear families who -- quite unexpectedly and most certainly prematurely -- watched as beloved individuals died in their arms.

The pain at 'ground zero' is always the greatest, fading more forgivingly as it ripples out and away from the epicenter like waves in a pond.  9/11...the loss of a child...a sibling...a parent...a friend...we all know loss too well, undoubtedly experiencing our own round in the ring and logically concluding this tour with the ultimate reckoning. 

While the sum of all losses occurring across the globe is unfathomable, unimaginable, incomprehensible...we each have our very personal and proximate narrative of loss.  As budding storytellers in grammar school, we are educated to start with something smallish: a child is born, a boy hurts his knee, a girl falls in love, a family seeks a better life.  And from such seeds, we extrapolate.  The story bounces along, characters come and go, things happen.  On the way, the reader is drawn in, drawn down, drawn up.  And perhaps at the conclusion thinks, "Wow.  That's me."  Or, "That's humankind." 

I cannot wrap my head around famine and disease in Africa.  But I can wrap my hand around the hand of Kiki, the seven-year-old boy in Haiti who emerged from the concrete eight days after the quake.  Or I can hug him, or pay for his medical attention, or feed him, or promise to pay for his education, or all of the above.

So rather than minimizing my own life experience because it is too WASPy, simply lamenting the woes of nearly 1 million U.S. children who are reported missing each year, or throwing my hands up in despair because I do not know how I can possibly help Africa...I should instead ask myself something manageable like, "Will I be an Eeyore or a Tigger?"

This mindset applies not only to the most important matters of life and death, but also to the routine and trivial: Will I whine when my pizza has too much tomato sauce?  Or when the man with the world's longest torso places himself before me in the movie theater?  Or when the parking slot closest to the entrance is 'stolen' by a spritelike teenager in a Porsche?

No, I shall not.

Eeyore would, but I will not. 

I may not be the archetypal Tigger that Pausch embodied, but I cannot, in good conscience, be an Eeyore.

Eeyores are over-populated already, and it would be a crime to enlarge their number.

My own take is this: We rarely know even at the end whether we released Boomerangs or Balloons throughout our life, but no matter.  Both were meant to fly.

Sometimes I aim high and throw hard -- and life reciprocates.  I give love, and love comes back.  I study and work hard, and the world opens her arms.  I discipline my child, and she thanks me later by living a life replete with joy and grace and contribution. 

But sometimes, no matter how high I aim or how hard I throw, there is no echo...no feedback.  Just silence.  Or tragedy I cannot understand.  The love I give...gone.  The sacrifice I make...gone.  The job, the purpose, the savings, the home, the child, the dream, the freedom, the country...gone.

Whether a flood, an earthquake, a plague, or an intimate casualty -- we can only comprehend so much.

But we must, and we shall.

And when we're gone, so will those behind us and those behind them.

Humankind is resilient and people, particularly Tiggers, are wired to move forward.  And the rest must be encouraged to rise to their feet, dust themselves off, and soldier on.  After all, we're not always Tiggers or always Eeyores -- these 'labels' are really just descriptions of behavior...so from time to time, we're one or the other.  You'd be amazed at how contagious Tiggerness is.  (Or Eeyoreness, for that matter.)  Such things are viral and communicable (like clapping, laughing, and crying), as has been proven anecdotally, empirically, and statistically more times than you might care to know.  

The majority of people are inclined to inquire, seek, and find that boomerang you threw into the fray all those years ago.  Or that balloon you released in the stillness of night, the one they eventually untangle from the tree halfway across the state.

So don't worry about what life will bring or doubt whether you can make a difference.  The last move, whether a boomerang or a ballon, is the same: let go. 

The ripple effects of your life are best recounted by those who succeed you, for they will tell your story personally just as I am generally. 

If you lived estimably, there will be those who remember.  Who will wish they could call you, hug you, see your smile.  And they will weep at their loss but rejoice in your life.

It's one of the greatest ironies in life's orchard: The fruit only ripens when you leave the grove.

So do the very best you can with all you've got for as long as you're given -- and embrace joyfully the realization that those behind you will indeed experience your harvest. 

This morning I received a rather humorous email alleging, "A magazine recently ran a Dilbert Quotes contest, eliciting quotes about real-life Dilbert-type managers submitted by their employees.  Here are some of the best submissions from corporate America..."

Alleged Dilbert-Manager Quotes.pdf (99.48 kb)

I apologize for being remiss these past three weeks and not posting -- I cling to my bias: If one doesn't have anything worth saying, remain silent.

Hopefully there's a pony in the pile today worth finding.

I had a recent client engagement that simply reminded me, "Most of what we value is free." 

Too often, organizations focus on the 'extrinsics' (the 'havings and holdings') and strive to motivate employees through pay, policies, and pavement.  You know, bigger checks, better procedures, larger cubes or offices, designated parking, etc.

Along the way, they sometimes lose site of 'meta-pay,' which is free.  The 'intrinsics' (the 'beings and feelings') that foster a sense of achievement, recognition, growth, respect, personal esteem, value, etc.

Interestingly, of course, extrinsics cost money and can become sinkholes.  How much is enough?  A key fob, a company jacket, a steak dinner..."What have you done for me lately?"

When the intrinsics fall by the wayside, people receive too few at-a-boys and arm hugs to realize how much they are appreciated.

This past week, solely because I passed a hallmark birthday, I've received way more than my deserved share of arm hugs and at-a-boys.  And like everyone, I beam. 

More than wrapped packages, what I'll remember -- and what we all remember -- are the feelings communicated and shared by those who care.

So to the extent you can, seek to be that employer -- and person -- who engenders a particularly authentic, selfless and magnetic feeling in others, one whereby they know how much they mean to you.

I was exhausted last night as I shuffled onto the plane in the dark amid the sleety rain in Michigan.

I shoved one bag under the seat in front of me, another above me, and gingerly took my seat where I slept like a tranquilized boar for two hours.

When I awoke, I had a pleasant conversation with the young man beside me -- Brian.  Brian is around 30 and works at Sewell.  Begun in 1911, Sewell is a very values-based car company, "And we really believe in it.  For us, it's not just talk."  We visited for over an hour and, somewhere along the way, quite nonchalantly, Brian commented, "I have brain cancer.  See this scar?"  (It ran from ear to ear, across the top of his fuzzy skull, and was easily 3/4" wide and almost 3/8" deep.)  "I've finished seven weeks of radiation and now I'm in chemotherapy."

"Wow.  And you're working?  And travelling?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah.  What else am I gonna do?  I'm tired all the time, sure, but we gotta keep moving forward, right?  Plus, we just had a huge meeting in Detroit with GM."

"What's your prognosis, Brian, if you don't mind my asking."

"That's God's call, not mine.  I can only do what the doctors suggest.  After that, it's out of our hands."

It is indeed, Brian; it is indeed.

As we parted ways, he shook my hand.  "It was nice visiting with you, Blake."

"You, too, Brian.  You, too."

And with that, I watched him stride toward the front of the plane.  Along the way, he helped a businesswoman remove her very heavy bag from the overhead bin.  She was jabbering away on her cell phone, complaining to someone back in her office, "I simply will not work for that amount of money.  You can tell him I said so."  She never made eye contact with Brian and didn't say a word to him.  Not even a 'thanks.'  But he smiled and kept moving forward.   

As if the billions who preceded us are insufficient signposts, God repeatedly sends emissaries carrying more 'perspective' our way.   

No one promised you another day.  Make this one count. 

Oh, and another thing.  A couple personal favors, really.  One, remember to say "Please" and "Thank you."  It's just mannerly, okay?  And two, stay off the phone when you're in confined spaces.  We didn't call you and, frankly, we'd rather avoid the assault.

I noticed the Michael Jackson autopsy the other day.

You know what my impression was?  How small we are.

In the end, we simply leave these husks that we occupied for so long...and in the case of Mr. Jackson, we are reduced to an accounting of scars, tattoos, chemicals, and sundry measures. 

136 pounds.  Can you imagine?  So tiny. 

If we're not careful, we can make too much of ourselves, no?  Sure, the Jackson estate will generate $100,000,000 in new revenue in the next 12 months...but the progenitor is gone. 

Throughout the course of our lives, we are this, that, and the other thing.  We may build fortresses, armaments, or empires.  But in the end, it's all just rubble held together by water and sand.

This past weekend, our precious daughter drew two pictures, the first a toothy chipmunk, the latter a trumpeting elephant.  Despite my bias, each is irrefutably adorable: Chipmunk&Elephant.pdf (71.63 kb)

Let's make a pact: We shall not take ourselves too seriously, however serious our work.

After all, we're just moms and dads and kids and nephews and sisters-in-law and whatever.  We may dedicate ourselves to great causes, or hope to leave legacies for our children, or aspire to contribute something timeless...or to make a mark, leave a dent, achieve. 

But while Billie Jean will echo through time, as we all hope to, it's just notes in the wind. 

Here today, faded tomorrow.

Make the moments -- every single one of them borrowed -- the very best you can.

The announcement by GM yesterday that, in effect, "Saturn is dead" is a tough, tough blow for many.  Not just employees and their families, but customers and so many others who developed an affinity for the little-brand-that-tried-but-just-couldn't.

I remember all too well studying Saturn in 1988 as a Case Study.  Just three years old then, it held so much promise: to be union free, to be collaborative, to be lean, to offer no-haggle pricing.

It really did aspire to be different and to survive outside the GM solar system.  But in the end, it proved to be entirely unprofitable.  It was mostly "all show, but no go."  The hype proved incongruent to the product.

The many reasons for its demise are clear to anyone who's been paying attention, but I'm certain GM's Saturn will be as infamous a Case Study as Johnson & Johnson's Tylenol.

My focus for today, therefore, is hardly to flog such a valiant effort on a ruthless industry battlefield.  (It'd be akin to picking on an airline, where survival is victory.)  After all, there are far too many cynics and observers who host rock-throwing parties in glass houses. 

No, instead, I simply wish to remind you that you are not the sum of your employment.  Not at all.

For the many who remain unemployed this day, or who will be in short order -- be it from Saturn or wherever else -- you are much more than your employment.

You are a human being, potential incarnate, and I lift you up today.

Keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Remember, it's not how many times you get knocked down, it's how many times you stand up.

As Bruce Lee used to say, "Walk on."

Well, this is a neat idea!

Mike Gathright, a professional acquaintance, is now 8 months into a yearlong (or more, or less) sabbatical that involves traveling around the world with his family.

The photos are beautiful and the gang looks happy.  What a fun trip, especially during these times.

Let us live, albeit briefly and vicariously, through his amazing photo album and blog at www.3amtraveling.blogspot.com

We all -- each and every single one of us -- present.

Just as we all sell and negotiate each and every day.  Life is one long dialogue about what to do, with whom, and in the context of finite resources...be they time, money, attention, energy, effort, etc.

When I am asked for recommendations on Presentation Skills, I always recommend http://www.presentationzen.com/. 

And I do so again today.

Presentation Zen is a crisp, clean, clear blog rife with countless book recommendations, videos, checklists, and other wonderful resources.

Enjoy and, if it benefits you, please share it with others.

I spoke with the kindest man last week.  Mid-sixties.

Regarding his vocation, he commented, "I have finally found my sandbox."  And his eyes twinkled and his grin beamed.

Wow, yes.  Our sandbox...  That which we are called to do.

Remember..."vocation" -- from the Latin "vocāre" -- to be called.

May we each find our sandbox and, ideally, before the final straightaway of life's run.

I think this is really inspiring, beautiful, haunting, heartbreaking, overwhelming, and personally convicting: http://emichrysalis.co.uk/players/sigurros/unicef_photostream/ 

Count your blessings, pray, and work tirelessly each and every day to make this world a more tolerable place.

-------------- 

Peter said to him, "We have left everything to follow you!"

"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life.  But many who are first will be last, and the last first."

Mark 10:28-31

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world."

John 16:33

On last night's SHARKtank, an entrepreneur named "Cactus Jack" (aka Jack Barringer from Ames, Iowa) pitched his "push-up machine."  (See 'Week 5, Episode 105.')

Nothing revelatory about the device, of course.

But he made a comment that I've heard in less memorable ways.  As he put it, "The one lesson my daddy taught me that I still remember: 'You can trade hours for dollars or ideas for millions.'"

You go, C.J.  Move those machines.

The world, of course, only goes 'round via both.  We need brain surgeons to create new ideas, but we also need brain surgeons to operate.  The equation doesn't work without a numerator and a denominator.

But I got a real kick out of Cactus, and I thought you might, too.

At long last, I have finally escaped from and exorcised the 770 pages of Cheever: A Life by biographer Blake Bailey (based upon Cheever's 4,300 page journal which spanned multiple volumes and nearly five decades of reflection).¹

Upon completing the 1977 manuscript of what would become his most successful novel, Falconer, Cheever wrote, "I think the work is successful and that I may be rich and famous.  I claim not to care.  I can always scythe my fields and walk in the streets.  It is the strangeness of this excitement that I must examine.  Why should it seem so strange to succeed?  I do not mean pride or hubris.  I mean only to have solved most of my problems and to have exploited, to the best of my intelligence, my raw materials."

We should all be so lucky as to find use for our raw materials.

And yet, although Cheever did indeed achieve sobriety in his final years, "Rarely has a gifted and creative life seemed sadder," wrote peer John Updike after the publishing of The Journals of John Cheever, nine years after Cheever's death.

Cheever's 'lostness' for so long, coupled with the interpersonal destruction that accompanied his alcoholism is staggering. 

A Cheever friend reflected, "He was extraordinarily blessed by anyone's standards -- fame, wealth, a wonderful wife, great kids who did him proud and loved him, a long and highly successful career, talent, friends, on and on -- but he liked to say all he had in life was an old dog.  There was his despair.  And then there was his inability to comprehend the despair and self-negation he inflicted on others."

Having been consumed by Bailey's authorized biography in the nooks and crannies of many plane flights and otherwise wasted moments in boarding areas, I have completed the book with much relief.  Cheever's is a difficult life to inhabit, even temporarily and only intellectually and from beyond the veils of time and space.  His was a life in which brilliance was tempered and metered by such depression, addiction, and self-destructive narcissim that one cannot help but wonder, "What if?"

Posthmously, Cheever was described by Dave Eggers as "some kind of freakish winged book-writing angel beast."  Undoubtedly, his writing was periodically otherworldly and often breathtaking.

Yet his life serves, in my opinion, more as a cautionary tale than something to be desired or envied. 

After all, at what cost giftedness?

¹See August 10, 2009 entry.

Strolling thru Barnes & Noble the other day with my wife and daughter, I stumbled across a biography by Blake Bailey entitled Cheever: A Life.  Reading the jacket, I bought the 770-pages brick and am consumed by it in the margins of night time and pre-flight checks.

John Cheever, the highly acclaimed and prolific author of Falconer, The Wapshot Chronicle, and dozens of The New Yorker short stories was one miserable soul.  He said it himself, and I agree.

I’m in 'Chapter 1960' (he lived from 1912 to 1982), and his life remains a dark, overcast sky of alcoholism, loneliness, identity confusion, and depression.

It is heart wrenching yet engrossing to read as he fights, fails, and rises again, only to be consumed by disparaging thoughts, self-doubt, worry, feelings of inadequacy, and so much more.  His life is a proverbial yo-yo caught in the downward position.

I remain hopeful that – as his alcoholism lifts – the clouds may part. 

But I am doubtful; the omens indicate otherwise and I suspect that my hopefulness for him will be dashed by reality.

But I will learn nonetheless and, perhaps, come to appreciate all the more what so many of us take for granted.  Namely, a belief that many if not all things work for good, that tomorrow might be better than yesterday and that, as Viktor Frankl wrote, there is meaningfulness in hope itself.

It appears this week that many, many friends, colleagues, and clients are on vacation.

Outstanding -- it's late Summer, and this is as it should be.

But if you know me, you know I love words, and this morning I was thinking about two, in particular: Vacation and Vocation.

(My minor musings may not necessarily interest or inform, but I'll share them nonetheless.  Heck, we're here.)

The root of Vacation is vacāre, which literally means, to empty.

And the root of Vocation is vocāre, which literally means, to call. 

Sometimes, if we are exceedingly fortunate and blessed, our profession/vocation/career is the same as our calling.  (You know, we're doing what we were designed and called to do, as opposed to 'doing this or that in the interim while going to school and then searching for a j-o-b.')  Pinch yourself if you get to, as one client recently said, "Spend the rest of my career here and be happy with that."

But for the sake of balance, be sure to periodically 'empty yourself.'  Emotionally, physically, labor-wise.  Forget things, lay things down, set things aside... release and let go.

We all need 'fresh perspectives' and the opportunity to get away, clear our head, recharge, and get in touch with who we are, who we've become, where we're going, what it's all for, and to reconnect with those intimates around us -- close family and great friends.

To be called, then to empty. 

A natural rhythm in life that must be heeded if we are to be intra- and inter-personally healthy.

Enjoy the kayaking, the hiking, the cycling, the swimming, the skiing, the camping, the riding, the driving, the flying, the sleeping in, the standing still, the breathing deeply -- the 'whatever' that may call you away in the near future. 

We'll see you when you get back.

Wisdom is an interesting thing.  Technically (etymologically), it is the confluence of knowledge (generally acquired thru experience), discernment (or prudence) and, as Hippocrates wrote, "self-control."

I spoke with a woman today who commented, "Sometimes things are better left unsaid."  Boy, is that a hard-learned lesson. 

Too often, in people's attempts to be honest, transparent, forthright, thorough, complete, accurate -- whatever -- they come across as hurtful or graceless or abrasive.

If there's one thing deficient in this little world of ours, it's forgiveness.  I have found the most sustainable relationships have, at their core, an abundance of 'benefit of the doubt' and 'trust' and 'forgiveness.'  As one dear mentor once said to me, "Trust is the lubrication of all good relationships.  Without it, there is much friction, irritation, burning, and pain." 

Indeed.

So, as much as you can be -- being fallible and human yet tolerant and gracious along the way -- be wise.

And relish those around you who strive to do the same.  Just as a tiny drop of food coloring can transform a large body of liquid, so too do wisdom and grace transform relationships.

Having described Grand Canyon & Grey Towers and a great haunt in Toledo, I'll conclude this 'photo album' trilogy (!) with one final entry: The Great Wall of China. 

All I can say is, it's a 50° grade in some places (compared to a standard U.S. grade-range for stairs of around 38° to 39°), it's visible from -- well, not quite space -- but far, because it's so large as to be practically unfathomable and, equally important, it's hot as Hades but more humid.

As always, for the interested, here is a photo album with brief captions.  The attachment concludes with a few organizationally relevant thoughts regarding vision, potential, and the like.  Remember, be patient as the file loads, it is somewhat large: GreatWall_WisdomFromTheSchoolOfHardKnocks_photos_July2006.pdf (1.36 mb)

I'm a sucker for great, small, fun, authentic... 'dives and diners.'  Packo's isn't necessarily either, but it's close.  It's smallish, high-energy, and serves a real gut-busting dog 'n chili mac.  But more importantly, it's a great example of a small, thriving, third-generation family-owned business. 

Every time I go there, the line is practically to the door, whether it's 11am, 1pm, or evening.  The food is simple quality, the service is great, the faces are friendly, and the 'barkers' keep the line moving.  (Simple behaviors, and ones that any organization would do well to demonstrate.) 

Enjoy the food and, as importantly, take a moment to appreciate how Packo's markets itself with clever ideas -- from hundreds of autographed hot dog buns to celebrity photos and a thriving little store... all in this unassuming joint by the river.

And just one more thing, don't forget the Tums.  The place ain't known for salads and tofu. 

In the past couple weeks, having sprinted from working with groups in the Department of Interior to the Department of Agriculture, I can't help but be awestruck by the tirelessness and commitment with which their employees and leaders serve.  They are literally 'on the ground' each and every day, year after year, decade after decade -- preserving America's greatest natural resources and interacting with and educating the public.  

Grand Canyon, of course, makes nearly any short list of "world's greatest natural wonders," but I have absolutely got to share how phenomenal and breathtaking the less-well-known Grey Towers is.  A 'summer cottage' for Gifford Pinchot, the Pinchot Institute at Grey Towers (the residence itself) covers a sprawling 105 acres and rambles pastorally across gorgeous hills in Milford, PA at the juncture of New York and New Jersey.   

It would require pages and pages and more energy than I possess to describe the experience of spending five days at Grey Towers working with some of the greatest thinkers and doers in the natural resources arena, so I'll suggest instead that you research Gifford Pinchot himself, his amazing wife Cornelia, read about the infamous Fingerbowl and, most importantly, if you ever find yourself in that neck of the woods, take the tour of the estate with your family.  The Grey Towers website has videos and podcasts about the Pinchot family legacy, and one cannot immerse him or herself in it without coming out the other side feeling... humbled and motivated.   

There is much great work to be done in the world, and it's individuals like the Pinchots and the often anonymous federal employees who extend their work and add anew who inspire us all.  

Research-on and, for the interested, 21 photos with brief captions.  Be patient while it loads, the file is relatively large: GrandCanyon&GreyTowers_photos_July2009.pdf (5.50 mb)

I recently watched Nothing But the Truth with Kate Beckinsale, Alan Alda, Matt Dillon, David Schwimmer, Angela Bassett, and Noah Wyle. 

Movie synopsis: "In Washington, D.C., a female reporter faces a possible jail sentence for outing a CIA agent and refusing to reveal her source."  I won't give any of the plot twists away; I just wanted to share this great quote:

"Great people are inseparable from their principles."

And they then trotted out a few examples... MLK, Gandhi, Christ...

It was a stellar movie, very under-the-radar. 

And I just love that line, because to the extent we are blessed enough to come across people who are really committed to their principles, despite the cost(s), faith is buoyed.

With the recent celebration of our 16th wedding anniversary, followed immediately by the occurrence of Father's Day, I have a whole wallet stuffed with Barnes & Noble gift cards.  One of the 'givers' inquired, "What did you buy?"

In response to her, and a client this morning who asked, "What are you 'bedside reading' these days?" I offer this brief defense.

The table is spilling over with magazines: The Week, Inc., and Time -- to stay abreast of 'the serious issues.'  And I've got a couple issues of Entertainment Weekly, for those moments before take-off when my mind wants empty calories rather than world events.  There are undoubtedly moments when I cannot bear to read 'heavy stuff.'

I also purchased an assortment of interesting books, a couple new ones and a classic.  A Different Life by Quinn Bradlee looks promising.  A young man with VCFS who has memoir'ed his journey as a learning-disabled student, son, and friend.  I love the dedication page, "To my mom -- my archangel, and my father, who is my sword and shield."  We should only be so appreciated.  Losing Mum and Pup by Christopher Buckley, about his inimitable parents and their respective deaths in 2007-2008.  A loving tribute from a complicated son.  All the King's Men by Pulitzer Prize winner, Robert Penn Warren.  A classic, and more timely than ever, even 63 years later.  Finally, I've got an Idiot's Guide to Latin beside the bed because it has always fascinated me and I don't want my brain jell-o-ing to mush.  To keep a muscle, you gotta use it!

It'd be nice to be one of those folks who grows younger as he grows older (more curious, more free, more fun), rather than the other way around (less curious, less free, less fun)!  (Sort of a Benjamin Button, if you will, minus the drool and diapers at each life-endpoint.)

Keep the recommendations coming; I'll read all I can.  As a great mentor, Carveth Kramer, once said to me, "Leaders are readers" or, at least, they should be. 

As is often the case, I notice things when they happen in 'threes.'  Sometimes, perhaps rarely, I'm quick enough on the uptake to notice things in isolation, but more infrequently than I care to admit, even to myself.

This past week, I spoke with and coached a few folks who were frustrated with what we might call 'taking behaviors.'  Specifically, people with whom they were frustrated because the relationships were lopsided: my 'coachees' were GIVING and the 'wrongdoers' were TAKING.  You know the drill; we've all been perpetrators and victims in the same circuit.

Such is the human condition; always has been -- always will be.  Don't mean to be a fatalist, just a realist.

That said, I've always most admired The Invisible Man.  Not the cheesy-movie one, but the real man (or woman).  You know, the unassuming type, like Clark Kent, whom we later learn is really super.  Or the quiet one in the back row, whom we later learn is illuminatingly bright.  Or the awkward and seemingly powerless one, whom we later learn is a mogul's son and thrice-over gazillionaire eyeball-deep in curing cancer. 

I share these thoughts, not because anyone need be super, smart, or rich in order to be worthwhile (quite the contrary, I postulate), but because there is something to be said for not placing oneself onto every stage.

But moreover, I believe, because the legacy of Takers -- whether others' time, attention, credit, or sundry finite resources -- is one of emptiness.  I have been to many a funeral, and the Taker's is the least attended.

Better to be humble in life, listening to and encouraging others and supporting them behind the scenes, than to gluttonously devour the entire banquet table for oneself.

Give me the Givers, please, though we should all give regardless.

As tomorrow is Memorial Day, I hope that all Americans who can... will appreciate the many 'ultimate sacrifices' made for this great country.

It is 'holidays' like tomorrow that serve to remind us what liberty and freedom really cost.  For millions, it cost everything.  Through democracy, we elect and assign our leaders -- and fire those with whom we disagree.  Our soldiers, however, serve where they are sent, and whether we agree or disagree with their literal marching orders, their service warrants our respect and honor.  After all, were it not for them, we would lack our freedom of speech and the right to, in public fora, approve or disapprove of what they are called to do.  We all understand that war is not the answer, but en route to the day when peace is unilateral and terrorists and jihadists surrender rocket launchers in exchange for olive branches, we are left with irreconcilable ideologies and conflicts during which we have the responsibility to demonstrate values while preserving the security and rights of those without voices or defenses.   

As a great nation, we are duty-bound to be grateful for those who do this and put themselves in harm's way, and as any entity which possesses much, we are obligated to be humble.  And so, today, a few brief words on gratefulness and humility.

"Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.  Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others."  (The letter of Paul, to the Philippians, chapter 2, verses 3-4.)

Regardless our petty differences, be they individual, organizational, or geo-political, we are called to love one another and be gracious with others, especially those with whom we disagree.  Similarly, to become great, we are to become nothing.  To die unto ourselves that we may serve others and, forsaking ourselves, help others become greater.  In short, we are to be grateful.  Where we are currently insatiable, we are to be satiated by little and pour ourselves out for others; to appreciate and be thankful for the difficulties and sorrows, that we might appreciate more the seasons of bounty and blessing.

And equally important, to find that in giving to others and contributing beyond ourselves, we are more fully restored.  In the words of a great counselor-friend of mine, "Nothing helps the clinically-depressed so much as volunteering and serving others."

To provide a tangible example of gratitude, gratefulness, humility, forgiveness, and service, allow me to share a super-brief story. 

Three hundred years ago, the prolific Matthew Henry, scholarly theologian and commentator, was attacked and mugged and beaten to within an inch of his life on a dark, London street.  As he reclined in his bed, recovering, he was asked for reactions to his assault.  He thoughtfully replied, "I am thankful."  Seeing the puzzled look on others' faces, he elaborated, "I am thankful, first, because I was never robbed before.  Second, because although they took my purse, they did not take my life.  Third, because although they took my all, it was not much.  And fourth, because it was I who was robbed, and not I who robbed."

Is this how you reacted when you realized half your net worth had evaporated in the last fourteen months?  Is this how you reacted when you were laid off?  Is this how you reacted when the world or its many minions danced gleefully on your failures, stomped on your heart, stole your livelihood for personal gain, or crushed your soul?  I doubt it.  And yet, we are to count our losses as blessings, and our sorrows as joy, if we are to be a grateful lot.  May Matthew Henry serve as a gentle reminder this coming Monday, week, and year.  When all seems lost, may you perceive the gain. 

Despite your worldviews, political persuasions, or views on the hereafter, may we all bow our heads on Monday and say a prayer for those who made -- and make -- it possible for us to enjoy this land, our family, and our harvests.  However great or small we perceive them to be, we undeniably and inarguably reside in a free country that has gone out of its way for 233 years to endow each and every citizen with three very enviable, exceptional, and uncommon rights.

e hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness...

On Monday, if you do nothing else, give thanks and count your blessings.  They are likely more abundant than you perceive, starting with the truth that you choose how you will spend your Monday, while many around the world cannot.

For those of you who were kind, curious, and committed enough to devour my last blog in its entirety, today I am serving a tiny and tasty morsel for dessert. 

This very morning, I had the most wonderful time attending a Professional Women's Networking Breakfast and sharing some ideas on the topic of Resilience.

Throughout, and particularly afterward, I was overwhelmed by their own resilience, positive spirit, degree of engagement, stories of inspiration, and general entrepreneurship and drive.  These dynamic women are clearly tackling the world with a zest for life; the morning was absolutely buoyant.   

One of the most common topics that arose in the 'post-presentation' dialogues was Purpose & Calling.  A number of the attendees inquired, "Where can I learn more about 'purpose' and 'calling?'  I am personally at a crossroads, and eager to read and learn and discover more about myself and where I am destined to contribute, collaborate, and work."

In answer to this perennial question, I offer up the work of Richard Leider as a great "go to" resource.  Dick is a best-selling author, executive educator, life coach, teacher, speaker, and counselor.  His most well known books include The Power of Purpose, Claiming Your Place at the Fire, and Re-Packing Your Bags.  He is a calm spirit in a blustery gale, a temperament which serves him well -- especially given his profession.  I consider him one of the most pivotal mentors I ever had in my earliest years as I stared-down several proverbial 'forks in the road.'

If you have, are now, or ever do face your own 'fork in the road' moment, bookmark the following two resources.  You'll be glad you did.  

Are You Deciding on Purpose?  (An easy, breezy interview from Fast Company Magazine) 

Purpose&theGoodLife.pdf (1,016.52 kb)  (A rich, scholarly study on Money, Medicine, and Meaning as subsidized and published by MetLife) 

 Robert Frost

What a difference seven months make.

In October, as the unwinding of our world's economy became crystal clear, so many perceived it as 'temporary.'  "The prey must make its way through the python, then all will be well in the end," they seemed to say.

And perhaps that is entirely true.  2010, 2011, 2012... I suppose things could return to 'normal' by then.

But I think not.

I think what's done is done, what was was, and we've entered a New World Order.  I believe the 'unwinding' was, in fact, a re-calibrating. 

I believe the waterline of the former market was, for all intents and purposes... former.  And we may not see Dow Jones at 14,000+ for another generation.  Call me a heretic, an idiot, or a doomsday-sourpuss-naysayer; I've been called worse.  But I believe the snake oil salesmen who are selling fiction disguised as hope are unrealistically optimistic or altogether deceptive. (I see the difference as their 'knowledge' x their 'intent.')

I attended an economic conference several weeks ago, and ALL the economists were prophesying, "This will blow over in a few months.  Q3 2009 will see a return to business as usual," guess-hypothesis-theory-lie.  I'm sorry; I just don't buy it.  While I fully understand FDR's lamentations about 'fear itself' and the need for positive psychology to lead the market, I believe it's time to come to terms with reality and adapt rather than hope for stable sand castles found primarily in Utopia. 

I imagine the market as we knew it before -- with easy loans, bottomless debt, and raging home sales -- is a thing of the past. 

Is the bottom near?  Perhaps, though I agree with Warren Buffett's sentiment that we probably won't experience it until the Government stops reaching in and tweaking the knobs.  At some point, probably where 'rescue' and 'reality' intersect, we will indeed experience a legitimate transition, but I don't think 'bottoming, leveling out, and climbing' are synomymous with 'back to business as usual.'  (At least, not for everyone.  One of the great ironies of this current economy is the disparity between the haves and have-nots.  While many people and clients and states I interact with are STARVING, many others are THRIVING.  On the one extreme I hear, "The sky is falling!" while on the other extreme I hear, "Crisis, what crisis?  We have so much money we don't know where to spend it all!")

Some might argue that I am sounding a bit like Chicken Little, but I believe that history and conventional wisdom will reveal that I am among an unintentional chorus of Shepherd Boys who would rather be wrong.  And by unintentional, I mean to say, "non-economic types" who wind up being in the majority and on the side of right, not because of knowledge, but because of intuition. 

I believe we're entering an era of Business as Unusual or, said another way, The 'New' Economy is The Economy.

2,600 years ago, the Greek slave, Aesop, wrote well over 200 brief fables, and many of them specifically for children (though they apply to most everyone).  Among them is The Shepherd Boy & the Wolf, more commonly remembered as The Boy Who Cried Wolf.  The theme of the story is best recalled in the final line of the fable:  "Even when liars tell the truth, they are never believed.  The liar will lie once, twice, and then perish when he tells the truth."

Only time will reveal whether the 'renowned and expert economists' are right (and Q3 2009 will reveal a miraculous, magical, and unheralded 'market bounce' that eventually leads us back to earlier Dow Jones health, employment, and worldwide productivity as before) or if those who said once and twice (without knowing why), "the world is changed for a generation" will be deemed right.

Again, I would prefer to be wrong.

At this point in life, most of us have endured one sort of surgery or another.  I equate today's Shepherd Boys as those who scratch at our scar tissue.  What was once sensitive and irritated (October 2008) is slowly becoming thick and numb (May 2009).  The 'jump' in our step has faded a bit, we've ignored the alarms for too long, and many are awakening and coming to grips with a potentially new reality.  A sense of, "Okay.  Um.  So, this REALLY isn't going away next month?  It wasn't just a drill?  All righty then, let's see... what shall I do now?"

History has an enviable way of efficiently and accurately sorting the misfits and malcontents from the rest.  I know most of us would LOVE to see a return to a pre-9/11 or pre-2009 economic world order, but the hairs on the back of my neck just don't sense that coming anytime soon.  Do yours?   

Meanwhile, whether it's only a few years or an entire generation plus, I suppose we should return to our work, reprioritize, rebalance, and find ways to survive through and thrive within a minor economic winter.  There is plenty of work to be done, there are many fields still lacking qualified applicants, and as Nature reminds us, life is binary.  It's either 'find a way to Grow' time, or 'embrace the slumber that has no end' (e.g., die). 

I elect to fight, as I'm sure you do, too.  It's buckle-down time.  Not for an illusory and fabled 'comeback' of lore, but in pursuit of creating a more sustainable future for our children, our customers, our constituents, and all those we hope will follow.

Onward.  Perge.  Semper fidelis.  It's on.  Let's roll.  Bring it.  Go time.  All that jazz.

Sometimes the smallest, simplest things catch my attention.  I don't know why, but it intrigues me, as do the teensy lessons the things themselves reveal.

Last week, Lowe's delivered several pallets of mulch to our driveway.  Once the bags were emptied and spread, I began to wonder what we might make of the remaining wood from the pallets themselves.  Coincidentally, my wife, Dawn, had been talking about a "flower wagon" for our front porch for several days.

Though it took a while for the cogs to engage, eventually... klunk-kerplunk, eureka... Mother's Day is coming. 

She printed a photo from the internet, and bam -- I was off to the races.

From Friday evening through Sunday, I became a man possessed.  My aged and creaky body beneath me, I painstakingly broke down the eight pallets with a hammer, crowbar, pliers, and ripsaw.  Our family ran the errand to Lowe's and purchased chain, hinges, angle brackets, more screws, a second drill, and another saw blade.  Three days later, we have five wagon-bodies awaiting the arrival of their axles and wheels.  Upon completion, we'll distribute the wagons around the yard and load them up with flowers, grasses, watermelons, or pumpkins as the seasons dictate.  In time, and with age and weather, we think they'll work well.

But as I was bending, standing, hobbling around my sawhorses, experimenting, screwing up, starting over, measuring, re-measuring, marking, cutting, re-cutting, drilling, screwing, sanding, and spraying, my mind was free to drift and float.

On Saturday night as I did 'bedtime' with our six-year-old daughter, Lauren, we played a memory game.  She's working on her math and, as we wound-down for the evening, with all the lights off in the room, she said, "Let's play a numbers game.  I need to work on my math, okay?" 

Into the ink-black darkness I said, "Okay.  How many curtains are in your room?" 

Her mind whirred through the room and she said, "Five."

"Yes, five," I replied.  "That's right.  Good.  Okay.  How many doors do we have upstairs?  Downstairs?  Be sure to count the closets, attic, and doorways with no 'literal' doors, okay?  And how many gates do we have outside?"

In time, she gave me great numbers for every question.  She was right-on.  And then she said the coolest thing,

"Isn't it neat that while my body is here in bed, my mind is roaming the house and yard?"

Y e s    i t    i s

It is, literally, mindblowing.

And as my body and hair and eyelashes and shoelaces and fuzzy legs and arms became covered and more covered with fine sawdust, my mind traveled to Beijing and Paris and London and Toronto and Phoenix and Toledo and Orlando and to the movie and grocery stores down the street and the mall across town and that terrible O'Hare which always strands me.  It roamed to cars and planes and people and politics.  To religion and mailboxes and dogs and squirrels.  To the wind that blew and the rain that fell and nearly ruined my tools, to the neighborhood boys revving their engines and blaring their tunes, to birds and ants and leaky roofs and mosquitos, and to the meals I could smell through the windows and the shower I longed to take when I was finished each evening.

And like our precious Lauren, growing inch by inch and word by word, I thought to myself, "Isn't it neat that while my body is here, my mind can go anywhere."

Y e s    i t    i s

The mind is a terrible thing to waste, but too often, I see organizations and leaders who don't allow (much less expect... demand...) their people to hope and dream and think.  And we confine people, and their minds, to cubicles and repetition.

Henry Ford once lamented, a century ago, "Why, when all I need is a pair of hands, do I have to get a whole person?"  (Yes, people are complicated, but oversimplifying the workplace so people can solely be more effectively 'managed' borders on malpractice.)  Toyota, and countless companies defined by 'predictability,' have found ways to ensure job enrichment and variety.  Have you?  After all, though it is indeed complicating, you get much, much more from a person when you demand they also think creatively and constructively about your business.  And yes, sometimes the most constructive changes arise like a phoenix in the face of 'creative destruction,' not unlike Market Darwinism and what we are seeing in broad scale around the world today.  

(There is an anecdote that Bill Gates, Sr. tells about his then-adolescent son.  After repeatedly yelling up the stairs at Bill, Jr. to come down and get in the car, his exasperated mother inquires, "WHAT are you DOING?"  "I'm thinking, Mom.  Don't you ever do that, too?" he replied.  Later that evening, his mother and father admit to one another, "No.  We really don't take enough time anymore to just think.  Just think.")

And no, I am not advocating 'daydreaming,' but I am encouraging you -- as a leader -- to facilitate and foster an environment in which people can indeed imagine and think, wherein you allow their minds to explore new and heretofore uncontemplated opportunities.  As they do at W.L. Gore, we should consider allowing people 'dabble time.'  It's where Gore finds breathable plastics and 3M finds Post-Its.

And for all of us, including my daughter and me, it's where we find doors and freedom.

We stood at the counter, Dawn, our six-year-old daughter Lauren, and me.

And from Lauren's tiny mouth come these words, "I'll have a banana smoothie, please."

She had read this $2.50 line-item from 20' away and ordered it herself.

My, oh my, how times change.  A year ago, she could read one and two-syllable words.  Two years ago, at age four, I think she 'recognized' words, but I don't recall her reading many sentences.  But here we are, May 2009 at the age of six, and she's reading chapter books, street signs, movie titles, Viagra commercials, Disney Channel barrages... she can, in short, read just about anything.  Words like 'catastrophe' throw her, but with these wily exceptions, she can pronounce most everything.

Like soft mid-sections and wiggly skin, I know that, as adults, undesirable things creep up on us.  But the year the world begins to reveal itself to a child like a blossoming flower in Spring is a welcome year indeed.

Life itself is like this, I believe.  We are born into utter darkness, ignorant of all.  And year by year, bit by bit, our eyes open.  They open to the good, the bad, the indifferent -- but they open.  And over time, we assert ourselves (or fail to) and become a person with proclivities, opinions, preferences, and biases.

What an amazing thing, life. 

Relish it.

And every now and again, stop and smell the flowers -- indulging and appreciating the awesomeness of simplicity.

After all, there's more to saying, "I'll have a banana smoothie, please" than meets the eye.