David Baum Change Through Delight

Lesson on "I"

2010-12-30T08:47:00.000-08:00

This is my favorite story that I heard in 2010. It involves a rabbi. In this case, a famous one. Hassidic leader, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, last leader of the Chabad Lubivitchers. Rabbi Schneerson was a well known teacher, scholar and beloved by his community. Though at times controversial, there was no question his people adored him with reverence and deep respect.

One day Rabbi Schneerson got a letter from a man who wrote. “I must see the rabbi. I need the rabbi’s help. I am deeply depressed. I can hardly go on. I pray and am not fulfilled. I am not moved. I feel no satisfaction. I need the rabbi’s help.”

The Rabbi, who used to be in publishing, did nothing nor offered any opinion or commentary, save for one simple action. He sent the letter back, and circled the first word in each sentence in red. The lesson was clear. You live a life of misery because you are focused on yourself.

There is an old Talmudic saying, "Another's physical needs are my spiritual obligations." In this season of joy and light this may be the most worthy of considerations.

What You Notice

2010-11-18T10:42:00.000-08:00

Recently I returned from running a two week retreat in Kenya (www.davidbaum.com/workshops-kenya.html). The focus was a cross-cultural experience of community service, wildlife and personal rejuvenation. Though I have been to Kenya a number of times, each time I am filled with wonder and amazement. This workshop in particular seemed to be one special moment after the next. It was a great time for all.

One of the highlights of our retreat was the opportunity for each person to spend a day walking the Mara with a Maasai warrior. Imagine being alone on the savannah, with a traditionally armed and clothed guide as your protection. Your time is spent in leisurely travel, engaged in deep conversation and laughter. There is nothing but a great expanse of land and sky in front of you, and the only sounds you hear are the ringing of occasional cow bells from wandering herds.

One of the participants though had a bit of a start. During her walk she and her warrior came across a dead black cobra (a live encounter is very rare and very unlikely). It is after all Africa. Understandably she got a bit freaked out. She kept asking her guide, "Is it dead? Are you sure?" Though her eyes told her one thing, her fear was proving hard to convince. After repeatedly poking the unmoving cobra's body with his spear to reassure her, he then strongly advised, "Kate (not her real name). You must be more concerned with what is living than what is dead." In that one moment, her back home mental struggles instantly shifted, and she learned an important lesson.

Too much of our time is spent focused on what is not working, no longer alive or has little vitality. We have become addicted to the negative, fueled by feelings of fear, doubt and an almost pathological attention to frenzy. In essence, dead cobras are everywhere. A quick check of today's news or blogsphere will validate this. It is all about the negative. The question is, what can we do about it?

There is a Maasai proverb that says, "Home is not far away when you are alive." If you want to feel more at "home" in your work and relationships, then do as the Maasai advise. Focus your gaze on what has life, not death. This is where you place your energy, this is where you choose to move. Look for that in your inner nature and outer world (organizations, families, marriages, communities) which is working or holds vitality. Then when you are aware of something different, based in fear or doubt, walk away. Because usually the only harm it can do is in your mind.

The Power of "Yet"

2010-11-18T10:23:00.000-08:00

I've had the great delight to spend some time with LA based jazz composer Larry Karush. Larry is a deep thinker, passionate in his music and extraordinary in his abilities. He said something quite remarkable the other night.

"I compose songs that I can't yet physically play," he quietly remarked. Imagine that. He doesn't write what he can play. He writes what he can't play. Then he figures out how to perform with his hands what he first envisioned in his mind. In some ways this is the role of the artist...to see a world not yet possible, and then figure out how to do it.

In my own coaching work, one word can help move a client into a more optimistic mindset. It's the word "Yet". Put "yet" at the end of any statement and it immediately turns a negative point of view into one of hopefulness, of something more.

"I don't speak Spanish." "I don't speak Spanish yet."

"I can't run a marathon." "I can't run a marathon yet."

"I'm not happy in my life." "I'm not happy in my life yet."

"Yet" is the language of possibility. It directs the mind towards a future fulfillment when we are stuck in the limiting present. Impossible things happen all the time, but to do so demands a more active approach in the way we think. It requires, as Larry Karush exemplified, a belief in one's ability to figure it out. What can then follow is a new and never before heard composition.

Leadership Calm

2010-03-10T08:21:00.000-08:00

These days it seems a great deal of my time is spent helping clients deal with the stress of the events of the current world. Between speed and access of opinion, lack of differentiation between quantity and quality of information, dying civility, the dismal state of our media, political deadlock and oh yeah, something called the economy, too many are more frequently dealing with eruptions of crisis.

We have become a society where shrill has over-powered common sense and truth matters less than volume. The loudest voice seems to be the winning strategy, no matter what the message. It's tough not to behave in like fashion. The problem is this is a zero sum game. I react with intensity, more than matching the perceived threat, you come back at me, and we are off and running.

Where this sad state began is hard to tell, but what is clear is that it has become deeply ingrained in our cultural patterning and that is rarely good. Oh it's good for attention, power grabs and retaliation, but not good for a sustainable way of co-existing. I have been influenced by a Gallup survey of "Why we follow leaders" which found people positively respond to those who create frames of trust, hope, compassion and stability. This last one was a bit of a surprise, and as a consequence has me occasionally directing during challenging times, "Everyone please. Just calm the f**k down!"

I fly a lot. And sometimes I fly through really bad weather. As I hear the groans, gasps and prayers of those around me, I know that only one question matters to all of us in that moment, "Will it be OK?". I used to worry, holding onto my seat and muttering upward. But now I do one thing, and one thing only. I look for the flight attendants. If they seem relaxed, calmly checking their watch, sitting quietly without a care in the world, I relax...no matter what my cabin mates are screaming. If, however, the flight attendants look concerned, I get very worried. I take my lead from them.

Leaders are the flight attendants of their organization. They are almost always scrutinized by someone in every moment of every day...whether they want it or not. I am convinced that what people notice most, especially during perceived crisis is the response. The response is the cue that guides others on their fear or anger triggers. The response is the dial that either turns up or down the negative emotional temperature of others. It is the response, even more than the so-called "reality", that answers the question, "Will it be OK?"

As I told one president, who was complaining about the drama on his board, "Feelings are fine. Just don't be a co-producer of the play. Embers are everywhere. The mark of your leadership will be whether you fan them."

Letting Go the Demons

2010-02-16T14:53:00.000-08:00

My years in elementary and junior high school were less than stellar. I flunked seventh grade (I am one of the few people I know who can say seventh grade was the worst two years of my life). But of all the teachers that had left their painful mark, by far and away my fifth grade teacher was the most traumatic. Her name was Miss Barr.

Built like a fire hydrant, with a helmet of black hair atop a mean and dour face, she was every fifth grade boy’s nightmare. My typical memory was of her verbally scolding and abusing me in front of the class. She'd repeat over and over that I would never amount to anything--that I was basically worthless. For the next four years she was right, until my parents sent me off to a private school that I credit with saving my life.

Thus it was with shock and surprise that twenty-five years later I found myself sitting in a natural foods restaurant at a table right behind her. She looked exactly the same, down to the sensible shoes, with only one difference—her hair helmet was now bright white.

“Look”, I whispered to my then wife, “It’s Miss Barr!”

It was as if the very mention of her name would summon the devil. My voice had the timber of an eleven-year old, understandable because I was immediately transported back to a scared fifth grader in my old elementary school. And now, sitting behind me, was the unforgiving arch nemesis of my childhood. I immediately started to construct a passionate monologue in my mind. I leaned over to my wife and hissed, “There’s an old Klingon expression, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold.’ Paybacks a bitch baby!”

I was going to go over, look her in the face and say, “Miss Barr. You said I would never amount to anything. But I now have a Ph.D., a successful business and am making ten times what you make. You were wrong then, and I can only pray you have not done terrible damage to the many young children who have crossed your path.” Oh, this was going to be good.

Just to be on the safe side however, and more than a bit curious, I proceeded to prepare myself by eavesdropping on her conversation. Who knows, I thought, in a moment of sentimentality. Maybe I misjudged her. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she is actually a sweet and lovely woman who I had miscast through the fragile perspective of an eleven-year-old psyche.

What I heard instead confirmed I was completely correct. As I eavesdropped, Miss Barr spent the next fifteen minutes engaged in some of the most vicious gossip mongering I have ever heard. She was mean-spirited, vindictive and downright nasty. OK I thought. My feelings are quite justified. This woman is a vampire.

Disregarding the desperately pleading eyes of my wife, I summoned my strength and decided to step into my revenge. This was the moment of truth. I had waited thirty years for this and vengeance was mine, sayeth the Lord. I strode over to her table, looked her calmly in the face and said, “Excuse me. Miss Barr?”

Without hesitation, she squinted, looked up from her curried eggplant and chickpeas, and slowly and coldly announced, “David Howard Baum”.

Dear God. The woman had super human powers of memory too! There wasn’t a moment of hunting for recognition. Not a second! I immediately started to wilt, and found myself shrinking back into a fifth grade body. “Get a grip man!” I thought. “Pull yourself together.”

Not wanting to be thrown off my game plan, I started to launch into my prepared speech. I took a deep breath and readied myself for the attack. I was not eleven anymore, and she was going to know it. I steeled myself for the moment, steadied my breath and felt the rise of adrenaline in my veins. I wanted to be calm, but forceful, and no matter what I was committed to acting on my long suffering feelings.

Suddenly, just as I was to launch into my diatribe, the most amazing thing happened. I heard a voice deep inside of me. It was me, but it wasn’t me…I don’t know how else to explain it. The voice said, “Let it go”.

Immediately I felt a shift in my thinking and instead of seeing Miss Barr as a mean-spirited and vindictive autocrat, I instead saw a sad and troubled old woman, obviously retired by now, with only her gossip and memories to keep her warm.

I looked at Miss Barr and quietly spoke. “Miss Barr,” I began. “I just wanted to say that I have turned out quite well. I have a doctorate, my own business, and am in part who I am today because of you. I just wanted to stop and tell you that.” I didn’t lie, but I did give only a humane portion of the truth. After all, I thought, what ultimate good would it have done?

Did Miss Barr soften? Did we have a moment that connected us in a new and adult way? No, not so much. She stiffened, looked me coldly in the eye, and said, “I knew all you needed was a little prodding from your boyish laziness." She then looked away. I had been dismissed.

But when I left the restaurant, instead of feeling deflated or depressed, I instead felt ten feet tall. Somehow in the reshaping of my history with Miss Barr I had given myself something that no amount of anger and retribution could provide. I had given myself respect. Those three simple words, let it go, had banished forever the demons she had represented.

"Let it go" is rooted in the Buddhist philosophy of detachment, and means we do our very best in the effort. That regardless of what happens, we detach from the outcome. “For us there is only the trying", said Alfred Tennyson. "The rest is none of our business.”

In the end, what Miss Barr said or did, never really mattered. What mattered is what I choose to do with my memories of her. And for that I am grateful.

The Unconscious Court

2010-01-22T12:16:00.000-08:00

I used to be a good tennis player. I came from a tennis playing family. Lessons started with a pro at eight, and then at twelve my father moved me to a local tennis legend named Dave Perchonock. Dave was a classic player, with stunningly beautiful strokes made for slow clay and wooden rackets. He was a surly man and he'd spend a lot of time grimacing and unhappily walking to the net to inform me of where my stroke was off. I was happy to oblige because being coached by Dave was considered an honor. Watching him hit a forehand, his shoes and socks covered in red dust, legs perfectly positioned, was a thing of beauty. Even at twelve I knew what perfect looked like, and Dave was perfect.

My father was quite different. He took up tennis later in life, having been a scratch golfer. Too much time away from the family, he said. One day he literally decided to give up golf and start playing tennis. I never saw him hit a golf ball, but as a tennis player he became a "high B", meaning he was good but not great. His public persona was like his stroke, understated and traditional.

In all ways and situations my father was loving and kind. I still remember the day I beat him for the very first time. I was about fourteen, and as I watched his backhand sail long I worried about what would come next. After all, I had never beaten him before. When we played, he played to win. "No gimme's", he'd say. But when I won he just beamed, offered his hand over the net, and simply said, "Nice match." I don't think I have ever received greater praise.

Growing up tennis was everything. Weekends were spent at the local club, hours of practice and endless matches. Monthly tournaments in the Middle States punctuated my routine, and as a junior I experienced a high level of success. Tennis became my identity. Professional players such as Billie Jean King and Rosemary Casals became family friends, staying with us on their travels. I lived, breathed and dreamed of tennis. My heroes played, my family played and life was often compared to the game. "Remember" my father would strongly advise. "Tennis is a lifetime sport", putting emphasis on the word lifetime. Baseball, football, basketball, hockey...all staples of a Philadelphia sports childhood were considered passing fads.

This all changed in one horrific day. While playing doubles with my father one afternoon in August, he suffered a massive heart attack and died in my arms. He was just forty-eight and I was sixteen. It was of course life changing. First, it set me on a course for which I am ultimately grateful. There is an appreciation I have of certain things that only a close view of death at an early age provides. Second, while a tragic event for sure, I didn't end up a tragedy, and I suppose that is most important.

After my father's funeral I actively chose to still play tennis. Family friends wanted me to keep playing, and so I did. But as time went by I found my energy for the game begin to wane. As I got older the pleasure of tennis seemed to disappear right from my pores. My temper got worse, punctuated with occasional smashed rackets caused by simmering anger. On the court I became like my old coach Dave Perchonock, surly and joyless. At the age of forty-seven I gave up the game completely, weary and disgusted. That was seven years ago. The reason I rationalized was the game was just too frustrating. All I could remember were the faded glory shots of my youth.

A few weeks ago a series of incidents started to get me back on a court. First, a close friend spoke passionately about Andre Agassi's new autobiography, "Open". Said I would love it. Well, I thought, I really don't do tennis anymore. But then I found myself in an airport and needing a book and there it was, staring me in the face. Looked interesting, what the hell. As I started to read about the names and matches I knew so well from my past, I suddenly became...curious. Then away on a weeks vacation, another friend, who was a great player, asked me to hit. "Use to", I said. "But I really don't enjoy it anymore", explaining a bit of my history. "Do you think," she innocently probed, "that it has anything to do with your father's death?"

A trashcan-lid-sized-penny suddenly dropped. Oh my God. I gave up tennis just as I approached the age my father was when he died on a court! How could I have missed this obvious connection? It was so clear. She then coaxed me onto a court for the first time in seven years. I was quite nervous and my legs more than a bit shaky. But I was feeling something I hadn't felt in many decades...excitement. As I started to hit, the old muscle memory began to respond. I wasn't too bad after such a long layoff and strangely it felt good. Tennis equipment had come a long way in a decade since I had bought my racquets, and I was amazed at how I was literally crushing my backhand. I laughed and joked and had such a great time we planned to play again the next day.

When I got home, I immediately started hitting with a local pro I'd worked with before. Now I can't wait to get on a court. I'm energetic, and calm, and fascinated with where this new discovery will take me. No longer upset at missed balls, my new mantra has become "Next!" As Andre Agassi writes in his autobiography, "Control what you can control". The rest seems to be none of my business. This new attitude has made tennis nothing less than pure joy. I'm hitting very well (given the layoff), and on the court there is a passion and grace I've never had. My pro says there is a smoothness to certain strokes that are new to me. And most importantly, it is now only a game. Whatever demons hung over me since I was sixteen, seem to be long gone.

I have a Ph.D. in psychology, which apparently is useless when looking in a mirror. That I could not have seen this reason for leaving the game is astounding to me. But then again, that is the nature of the unconscious. If I could see it, I suppose, it wouldn't be unconscious. Suddenly aware, I now feel blessed, grateful for the events that conspired to awaken me from my past. This awakening has reinvigorated a passion of something I once loved so much.

I am left this morning with a small interior voice. It wonders how many other parts of my past unconsciously still effect my life, silently waiting for me at the net, hand stretched out, broadly smiling, and ready to say, "Nice match".

The Price of Inaction

2009-12-28T07:34:00.000-08:00

Mary was a partner at the actuarial consulting firm, Arthur Anderson where she was a rising star. To meet Mary is to love her--fiery, funny, with an easy laugh and very smart. Mary was in charge of a team asked to bid on an account for the micro-brewer, Sam Adams. Given a variety of factors, Mary and her team were long shots at best.

She decided she had nothing to lose, and so came up with a creative approach. First she got the Anderson proposal to exactly 24 pages. The proposal was then separated into single pages and each page was rolled and placed into a clean and empty Sam Adams bottle. The bottles were then placed into a Sam Adams case. At the pitch meeting, every member of the Sam Adams team got a case, each with a copy of the proposal, one page per bottle. They were highly impressed knowing Mary really understood their unique and different culture. The presentation was a huge hit. She got the project, and Arthur Anderson got a new client.

However, when she returned with the good news, a senior partner dismissively sniffed, "That's not the Anderson way."

Mary told me she knew in that moment, she was in the wrong place. She then did what very few partners at Anderson have ever done. She chose her soul over security. She resigned.

Many times we think through the consequences of an action, but rarely do we consider the consequences of inaction--of not doing. If we are really listening, however, the message of stagnation can often be shaken loose it in one singular, flashing moment.

Consider where you have placed yourself--relationships, work, and friends--all of it. Now ask yourself, "Is the price I am paying from inaction larger than the risk of taking action?" Are you brave enough to act on a truth that probably already exists.

Today, by the way, Mary is a very successful company president. "Did I make the right decision?" she rhetorically asked me one afternoon. "Looking back on it. Damn straight!"

Mount Monadnock

2009-12-23T06:51:00.001-08:00

I live in a beautiful part of the world. Southern New Hampshire boasts many natural treasures but arguably one of the finest is Mount or Grand Monadnock. Artists have painted it more times than there are feet in its elevation, and luminaries such as Thoreau and Emerson have written many essays about its power and inspiration. I see it almost every day when I am home, and it never ceases to inspire me nor make me feel that I live in the shadow of something great.

The term "Monadnock" has come to be used by American geologists to describe any isolated mountain formed from the relationship of a hard and soft rock. It is an Abenaki word of unknown meaning, though some say it translates to "She who stands alone", while others argue it just means "mountain". At 3,165 feet, Mount Monadnock is nearly 1,000 feet higher than any peak within 30 miles.

Between 1810 and 1820, local farmers, believing that wolves were living in the blow downs, twice set fire to the mountain. The conflagration raged for weeks, destroying the topsoil and denuding the mountain above 2,000 feet. It is still barren rock 1000 feet below its peak. Thankfully, there is not one shred of evidence that any wolf perished in the fires set. Most biologists think they simply slipped away at the first sign of smoke and never returned due to loss of habitat. However, many sheep, barns and even some homesteads were destroyed by the blaze. This is commonly known.

What is less known is this. In 1802 the first Merino sheep herd was introduced to Vermont, quickly making the New England sheep's inferior wool almost immediately worthless. In two sudden and disastrous price drops for New England sheep farmers, wool's price went from $5 a pound to $1.86 a pound, and a few years later from $1.82 a pound to zero. Each price drop was followed a few days later by the setting of each fire. The implication is clear. New England sheep farmers were angry and scared and not knowing what to do, they put their rage into a massive destructive act against nature and the unknown.

The artist Janet Bleicken, who painted a series on the fires of Monadnock, tells the story of sitting alone one day in a gallery of her work. A truck driver came in and quietly walked around the paintings, staring in silence, not knowing she was the artist whose work he was now seeing. As he left, with tears in his eyes, he passed Janet and muttered, "This is what we did in Detroit in 1967".

We live in uncertain times with an acceleration of anger that is faster than any I have ever witnessed. Between television and radio demagogues and the uncertainty of the economy, environment and our own security, it is too easy to get overwhelmed with dark feelings. The fast response is to fan the embers of fear and burn down our own home. We don’t know what to do, so instead we displace our anger on that which we don’t understand just as those early sheep farmers did in New Hampshire. We scream about immigrants, demonize Muslims, rage at those who are different than us and pitifully destroy our own environment.

This is not the answer. Instead, in this season of “peace on earth”, the response must be to turn one’s back on rage, walk away from the instigators and look for actions that creatively quiets the voices of fear and instead promotes the better angels of our nature.

A good start would be the following. First turn off your TV’s and radios, especially news and commentary. Then take a walk into the open air. Finally, consider this story. When Mother Teresa received her Nobel Prize, she was asked the question, “What can we do to promote world peace?” She replied, “Go home and love your family.”

The Wisdom of a Mistake

2009-11-22T07:28:00.000-08:00

Try again. Fail again. Fail better. -Samuel Beckett

Mistakes? We all make them. If you're not making mistakes, chances are you are not growing and developing. If you're not growing and developing, then chances are you are shrinking. Personally or organizationally there is a word for this. We call it dying. Mistakes are actually a sign of life and vitality. The secret is not whether you make mistakes; it's whether you make smart mistakes. A client calls this "Failing on purpose"--making mistakes in service of one's mission. It has also been called "failing forward".

The issue is not whether we make mistakes, it's the response. That is what we do after the mistake occurs. Is it one of honest assessment or hiding through blame-shifting and obfuscation? Are we direct with our ownership or do we move into collapse, drama or justification? Whatever the reaction, the intention is to deflect ownership, and that lack of admittance is generally based in one thing--fear. Fear of looking foolish. Fear of loss of standing or status. Fear of consequence or punishment.

Fear, of course, is an emotional quality neither conducive for creativity nor sustainable growth. It is stultifying and limits the ability to respond proactively, instead creating an environment of reactivity, protection and self-interest. Fear pollutes even the best of intentions, limits thinking and saps energy. A fearful organization like an individual is generally not good. In short bursts for survival? Yes. But over time, fear's one purpose, biologically and psychically, is to constrict. This won't work for creative growth. Fear's impact limits the ability to respond thoughtfully and with full accountability. A local farmer said it best, "Don't scare the chickens. They'll stop laying the eggs!"

The goal is to move from "perfection" to "excellence". This was well-defined by anthropologist Angeles Arrien. "Perfection", she said, "doesn't tolerate mistakes. Excellence incorporates them." Mistakes are OK, as long as they have purpose and are on purpose.

One way an organization can do this is to follow three rules. It's important that all three be valued and used, and that leaders are impeccable in modeling what they are asking of their people. Without this modeling, and careful hand holding for at least one year, a fear-based approach will generally tend to seep back in. Fear is a powerful unconscious force in this world, based on ancient, genetic survival. Fight-flight is a real thing. To shift it's potential grip requires vigilance, risk and above all, courage.

Here are three rules for creating a culture that uses mistakes effectively.

Rule #1: Always report a mistake in it's entirety, as soon as you can. Own it fully, without "prettying it up" or excessive self-flagellation. The goal is to honestly, and completely bring to light this mistake. A client calls this non-emotional assessment, the "honest autopsy".

Rule #2: Describe in detail your plan to make sure it doesn't happen again. The intention is to make sure you or anyone else doesn’t repeat the mistake. Even the best among us err. Unless it's a life-threatening issue, rarely is anything eternal at stake. It's the repeated pattern of the same error that will deaden the future. Consider Winston Churchill when he said, "Success is going from failure to failure with unrelenting concentration."

Rule #3: Communicate your mistake and it's learning by teaching it to your peers. This is usually the forgotten rule, but the most essential. Think of a mistake like a college tuition. It's real value is in how learning is passed along, leveraged, and inevitably used. The price paid is the error, but it's positive impact can only be fully realized if shared among peers and others.

"Mistakes are the portals of discovery," wrote James Joyce. A great culture knows this, values the learning that can occur, and encourages failure on purpose.

When Projection Seduces

2009-11-02T18:48:00.000-08:00

My wife is a community artist. Among other things she makes giant puppets. One of her creations is a likeness of President Obama. During the campaign, the Obama puppet was requested at a campaign rally sponsored by an old friend (that’s him in the photo).

After speeches from local New Hampshire luminaries, it was announced with much fanfare, “Let’s hear it for the next president of the United States…Barack Obama!” I then appeared from a side entrance to about 300 people wearing the giant Obama puppet (this is what husbands of community artists do in their free time).

Totally hidden under the frame, I was completely swarmed by mothers with their children, fathers with cameras and lots and lots of enthusiastic energy. The amount of adulation I received was stunning. People were lined up 30 deep to have a photo. The energy was palpable, and even though I was blind under 20 pounds of papier-mâché, the projected desire of so many people to get a little piece of "Obama", even if was only a painted puppet, was something I didn't remotely anticipate. Frankly, it was overwhelming.

Afterward all I could think was, “What kind of projection must the real Obama get?”

Rabbi John Moskowitz, senior rabbi at Toronto’s famous Holy Blossom synagogue said, “Projection is the biggest challenge that people in power face and most leaders don’t have the awareness to deal with it.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Many leaders either are unaware of the issue of projection, or don’t know how to handle it. They confuse their public persona with their private self, and as a consequence are ripe for seduction of the ego. Don’t think it’s a problem? A Google search of the phrase “political scandal” provided 840,000 hits. “Religious scandal” 8.5 million” hits and “Business scandal 2009” over 24 million hits.

Freud referred to projection as the unconscious act of a person's own attributes, thoughts, and emotions, being ascribed to another person or people. Projection is one of the most profound and subtle of human psychological processes, and extremely difficult to grasp, because by its nature, it is hidden. While much damage has been done in this world through negative projection, i.e. Nazism, Apartheid, genocide, for many leaders positive projection can also be extremely seductive and soul corrupting. After awhile it can be a challenge to resist the temptation to believe one’s own press. Thus, the more power or influence one has, the more critical vigilance becomes.

I’ve learned the following three strategies from a number of religious, political and business leaders. They are worth considering for anyone who has impact over others.

Organize your defenses without being defensive. Some of the best leaders I know are acutely aware of the need to set clear boundaries in public forums. Beyond their confidence and belief in mission, they know distance can occasionally be a good thing. That unless clear boundaries are set, energy, time and attention will sap them of their focus and clarity. They enter into public situations with a mindset of “I want to connect…but not too much” and prepare themselves by staying aware of the emotional needs of others no matter how well intentioned, and maintaining a healthy respect for the power of projection.

Have real friends. Friends who know you versus your reputation are a godsend, especially those relationships established before a rise of fame or position. The question one needs to ask is, “Who do I trust?” That means not only who will tell you the truth, but also with whom can you be completely vulnerable. Every confident leader I’ve known had a few select people they let into their private world. Someone to share a scotch, dance or go on vacations. These friends are the one’s who listen to complaints, provide personal advice, and can be brutally honest on long walks when balance is needed. At the heart of this friendship is the notion that it is reciprocal. That even if fame and power is held more by one than the other, the relationship "feels" equal because what is offered by the other is a gift that has no price. The gift of truth.

Develop an inner life. The stronger your core, the clearer you will be in those moments of potential ego seduction and thus able to separate what is real from what is the unconscious need of others. The theologian Meister Eckhart said, “The outer work will never be great if the inner work is small." Any practice that supports calm response versus emotional reactivity is a good thing. Meditation, long walks in nature, and time in prayer or gratitude, all help develop a strong and clear discernment process that let's in what is needed and dismisses that which is not.

Anthropologist Angeles Arrien advises that leaders make themselves a student to someone else at least once every season. To literally put themselves in the role of a learner, and not the expert or focus of others adulation and attention. It doesn't matter what, whether learning to snowboard, paint or do stand-up comedy. The important thing is to be humbled by the process and in so doing authenticate our common humanity. This, Arrien states, helps prevent over attachment to one’s role, and reduces what she calls, “the mischief of the ego”.

In the end, to know who one is, and who one is not, no matter what the Greek chorus may sing, is the most important safeguard. Bulgarian philosopher Omraam Mikhael Aivanhov said it well when he wrote, "If you see to it each day that your conduct is impeccable, the following day will be completely clear, and you will be free to carry out your plans, always vigilant that you leave no loose ends. In this way, each new day will find you free and well disposed."

Notes on India

2009-09-19T12:37:00.000-07:00

Today I am in Udaipur, India. It's been a hot day and I've gone swimming in the hotel's pool. Screeching shiny green parrots are flying in to roost. A large red sun is setting over ancient white palaces on the lake. The air humid and thick, promising the end of monsoon season.

A swarthy, black mustached Indian with a compact body and wearing a tight black Speedo is swimming laps in the pool. He appears to be (and I say ‘appears” because I never know with Indians) in his mid-forties. As he finishes his laps, he climbs out of the pool, turns to me and flatly asks, “How are you?”

“On such a lovely evening, how could anything be wrong,” I reply.

He peers through large black eyes and begins; “The moon and the sun, are lovers who are out of balance. They fight and overwhelm. It is a dishonest relationship. This fight is hurting us all. Look at the sky. It’s black. Their imbalance is sucking the oxygen out of the world and there is not enough. People are dying.”

“Hmmm” I thought. Hard to debate that one. “Anything we can do about it?”

“No”, he dismisses scornfully. “Not unless you are one of the chosen.” I apparently was not.

”What’s your name?” I ask, trying to wrap this thing up on a positive diplomatic tone.

“I am Prince Lami Khan!” Then he turns and strides off, leaving me and the sunset alone at the pool.

This popped in after he left. Americans live in time, Indians live in space. Americans are always on the move, Indians are always at rest. Americans believe in freedom of speech; we strive for articulation. Indians believe in freedom of silence; they lapse into meditation. Americans believe in science. Indians believe in metaphysics.

Taming the Tiger

2009-09-19T01:27:00.000-07:00

Lately I've noticed a lot of anxiety and stress around me. Maybe it's the economy, or the self-inflicted wasteland of cable news, or even the recent alignment of the moon, earth and sun. I don't know. But it does feel like a lot of crazy out there, and with it a shortage of civil behavior. It seems like the speed at which people go from nothing to inflamed response is getting faster and faster. The bottom line I see is just a lot of worry, anger and expressed frustration. Calm, non-engagement is a good thing. But how do we get there? Is there a secret?

A young friend in India gives a clue. Recently he was in an open jeep with no doors, off-road driving with his uncle at his home. The land bordered the Ranthambore tiger reserve, one of the few sites in the world where tigers remain in the wild. As they pulled up to a watering hole, suddenly a large Bengal male appeared, walked up and stood next to the jeep. The tiger calmly came to a stop beside my friend. Two feet away, in an open and door-less jeep, now stood the towering Bengal.

My friend, began stammering in fear to his uncle. “There’s a tiger right there. There’s a tiger right there! What do I do?”

His uncle, calmly and quietly directed, “First. Stop talking.”

Wise advice. When taming our own tigers, the first step is always the most important. Stop talking. Little good rarely comes from our mouths when the mind is engaged in fear or negative emotion. When our inner tigers are closest, we are in a place of emotional unreliability and not at our best. The potential for attracting more trouble goes up exponentially the more we speak. The course through is what the Japanese call "noble silence". It's simple, direct and the most successful strategy for moments of inner turmoil.

Moving Through Chaos

2009-09-18T13:22:00.000-07:00

I have just returned from two weeks in Udaipur, India. If you have never been, the driving is not to be believed. It is living chaos theory.

Imagine the following. A road of roughly three unmarked lanes. The traffic consists of overloaded trucks, buses and cars with people hanging out of all possible openings. Lots of dogs walk aimlessly, jumping aside from speeding jitney's and motorbikes (many with up to five on board including infants on sideways sitting mothers). There is lots of foot traffic as well skirting the vehicular traffic...and elephants. Add in, of course, the ubiquitous cows, which are everywhere and wander with total impunity and you have some sense of the opening scene. No one stays in their lanes, or follows a known speed limit, or even some semblance of an approximate side of the road. Everyone moves in cramped spaces around windy curves at fast speeds constantly beeping their horns to let others know their position.

The drivers come so close to everything else on the road I am left gasping and praying the entire time. My mind is a mantra of calm. “I’m going to die,” is all I keep saying over and over. It’s inhale exhale for me, close the eyes and go into denial.

My client, who is Indian-Canadian told me when she first came to Udaipur, she decided to take the plunge and learn to drive in India. When she began she of course drove the way she had been taught--that is like a defensive driving westerner. She'd check her rear view and side-view mirrors, always scanning the surrounding territory.

Her Indian friends were horrified. “What are you doing?", they shouted. "Don’t look around. The system only works if you look forward to where you are going. Don’t look to the side or back. You have to trust others will do the same and everyone will adjust.”

Somehow, of course it does, and the craziness works. The traffic develops a kind of organic pattern that allows constant adjustment. It is far from perfect, but that it works at all is a testament to the power of collective individuality.

I think this is great advice for moving through chaos. When you find yourself in an environment that doesn't make sense, when the patterns cannot be figured out, and when potential danger seems to be coming from all directions, follow the driving tips from India. Eyes forward to where you are going, do not look back, do not over react, and above all trust that others will do the same and adjust around you.

Five Seconds

2009-08-03T12:57:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, while in the waiting room of my dentist, I saw a photograph. It was in National Geographic and part of a series of shots taken by the Hubble telescope. Called "Deep Field", the shot had a black background with whitish swirling dots. It was not very impressive. In fact it didn't look like much at all. That was until I read the caption. "Deep Field" was taken in an area of the sky approximately the size of a dime held at 75 feet. It was shot in the darkest part of space that scientists could see from earth. A place of apparent nothingness and black. However, when the photograph came back what they found was extraordinary. In the photo were 1,500 galaxies, each containing hundreds of millions of stars and billions of planets.

In reading that caption about the galaxies, and staring at the image of those swirling lights, it suddenly became crystal clear to me how big the universe actually was. I was awed, and as a consequence I began to experience a sense of clarity and wonder I'd never felt before. All of a sudden I got how big this whole damn shooting match really is. What came next was quite surprising. Suddenly everything just got real big and real calm. In fact it got so big and calm, that I wasn't able to hold the idea or feeling for longer than five seconds. Too big for my brain, it was gone. Lasting about as long as a shooting star. Once this moment had passed, this feeling of euphoria and awe has never returned. Not even close. Not once...never.

Do I miss it? Have I ever tried to get this awareness back? Frankly, no. Those five seconds are all I want in this lifetime. Because in that one brief moment I saw a "glimpse" of the enormity of it all, and it has been more than enough. Those five seconds at my dentists office, unexpected and surprising, filled my wonder plate right to the edge. They told me something important and big, and as a result I've never quite been the same.

There is an old saying from the Talmud. “Keep two pieces of paper in your pocket. One should say “I am nothing but dust and ash.’ The other, ‘The universe was created just for me.’ The secret of life is to remember when to read which piece of paper.”

On the next clear night walk outside your home, tilt your head back and look up. Then stare into the darkest part of the evening sky. Maybe there are five seconds out there waiting for you, staring back. Maybe you will see something new, something bigger than you ever thought possible.

Maybe. It could happen.

Weeds in the Garden

2009-07-15T19:08:00.000-07:00

My father loved to garden. Our Philadelphia suburban home was typical of the times. Marigolds, geraniums, impatiens and lots and lots of pachysandra. My father was a traveling salesman, so would frequently come home late at night. He'd walk in, kiss my mother, grab a flashlight, and by it’s light start pulling weeds from the lawn. On a number of occasions I’d catch him talking to his plants before putting them into the soil. He’d quietly say, “I’ll take care of you…just grow”. Then he’d offer a little prayer to the garden gods, and gently pat the earth. Needless to say, as a teenager, I thought my father was crazy. A quiet and conservative Republican, he seemed completely out of character and totally out of his mind.

Weeding was one of my household chores, and one I did with little relish. In fact, I hated it, and swore that I would never garden as an adult. Thus it is with some irony that gardening for the last fifteen years has become an obsessive passion. Come the first cold days of March I am itching to get into the dirt and by mid-spring I am in the garden every chance I get. I never call what I do "yard work” because for me it is pure and simple joy, and the garden is the place where some of my most creative energies literally bloom. I read constantly on the subject, will travel to far away gardens and spend money on plants and trees like I am broadcasting seed.

Even more ironically I have a few habits. First, after long travel days, I frequently come home at two in the morning. Between April and August, no matter how tired, I will rush into the house, grab a flashlight and “walk” the borders. I'm inspecting, seeing what changes have occurred since I was last around. Second, I love to weed, finding it serene and meditative. There is a feeling I get of deep satisfaction, taking hold of some clover, wiggling it firmly, and then popping the entire root from the ground. My enjoyment borders on obsessive, and frequently I will not stop until there isn’t a single weed left. Many gardeners say weeding is like eating peanuts. I wholeheartedly agree.

The garden is one of the great teachers of my life. It requires patience, vision and the need to consistently adapt and change. Every day is filled with small victories, surprises and sudden failures. The garden is the place I learn about death, rebirth and transformation. One either learns to deal with change as a gardener or one doesn’t venture in. It’s been said humorously, that in a quiet way, gardening is war. I have experienced this on numerous occasions as I curse the chomping beetles, the nibbling shrews, the devouring deer and the creeping fungi. But for me, Historian Mac Griswold said it best, when she wrote, “Gardening is the slowest of the performing arts.”

I have been thinking about weeding, and what it has taught me. It is this. If I am ambivalent on where to act, what I don’t want is what will frequently win out. Weeding the unnecessary, the unneeded or uninspiring from my life is one of the best ways for me to get what I do want. So much attention is spent these days in telling people to envision their goals. Without doubt that is critical. But the art of removal is also important.

Spend some time this season attending to what keeps you from the beauty you seek. Then with attention and focus, wiggle it firmly and pluck it from your life. If anything, weeds teach us that if we don’t act with clarity, the unimportant can quickly win out, growing larger than what we truly treasure, crowding out the life we wish to grow.

The Being of Happy

2009-07-15T14:41:00.000-07:00

A friend and I were recently talking about her new boyfriend. It is a new relationship, filled with promise. They seem a good match, both are active, interesting and interested in varied things. He is teaching her to fly a plane, she introducing him to the world of roller-derby.

He asked her, “Do you think I’m a happy person?”

“I think” she quietly answered, “You take what comes your way and turn it into joy.”

It was a lovely statement, but honest. She did not say he was happy. She said, he turns the events of his life into joy. This is not just semantics but an interesting thought on the path of happiness.

Many of us want to be happy, and in our quest spend lots of time thinking of and doing things to express this yearning. We take workshops, read books, go to therapists, engage in various activities, all of which are intended to help promote this sometimes elusive feeling. These activities are usually good and worthy efforts, but they are not happiness.

Actions can bring many things, but happiness is a state of mind, often gained more through subtraction than addition. We say, “I want to be happy”. We don’t say, “I want to do happy”. Happiness is not about doing, but being. Said another way, the happiest people accept what is--in their nature and their life. This is different than needing to take some action to change and become different.

A great deal of research has been devoted to the subject of happiness, but one thing most agree on. Happiness comes from the way we hold the challenges of our life. It is created in our minds. Our ability to sit with what is, no matter what, ultimately determines the quality of our inner peace. Happy people aren't always happy. But they do appreciate the ordinary and genuine moments of life when they appear. Dinner with friends, a walk in the woods, a conversation on the phone with a family member...it is these simple events and our ability to truly savor that defines the best of who we are.

The Five Ways to Motivate

2009-06-28T16:50:00.000-07:00

Getting others motivated is often a tough and challenging task. Recently I learned of a model I wish to pass along. It was provided by Hannah Feldberg of Free the Children (www.freethechildren.com), the largest youth helping youth through education organization in the world. Based on the work of Gary Chapman, it assumes that early in our lives we each developed unique emotional patterns. Because each of us is wired differently, as a consequence we have different motivation needs. With all this difference, however, there are five basic motivational preferences. Chapman calls these preferences, "Really Personal Motivators" or RPM’s. They can help guide us in being more effective.

Typically we have one RPM we are most comfortable with, and is most effective on us. While other approaches often work, this one approach gets the most traction internally and reflects the way we operate in the world. The problem is we were all raised with the Golden Rule; “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Thus, the way we like to be motivated is the way we frequently will motivate others. We can increase our effectiveness by considering how others want to be energized and valued. If we know their RPM, then our task becomes easier.

The five motivation styles are:
1. Verbal affirmation
2. Quality time
3. Giving and receiving gifts
4. Acts of service
5. Appropriate touch

The verbal affirmation preference type responds best to words expressed in simple, straightforward statements of affirmation. Indirect expressions, public praise and private comments work equally well. Hannah at Free the Children comments, “Remember Mark Twain, who said, ‘I can live for two months on a good compliment.’”

The quality time preference gets motivated when a boss or co-worker puts their work aside to talk, grab coffee, share a meal or invest in doing something together. It is motivating when another goes out of their way to provide meaningful and focused presence. If you are a Blackberry frequent flyer, watch out. It is the clearing of the calendar, and undivided attention that has significance and impact. Sneak peeks at your PDA will get noticed and your efforts will be diminished.

The giving and receiving gifts preference is motivated when someone makes small, tangible offers of kindness or appreciation. Coffee on a desk, or a small card left to be discovered, are both examples of this style. It is evidenced when one goes out of their way for another, without being asked or prompted. It is the act of being thoughtful through a gift that carries the meaning.

Acts of service implies just that. You go out of your way to help or support a colleague without asking. It is often a practical act that would otherwise go unnoticed. Hannah explains, “It’s assisting a co-worker with simple and often mundane chores. Or doing something kind like bringing them lunch because they’ve been in a meeting and haven’t eaten that carries the motivational effect.”

The appropriate touch preference is motivated by physical contact. A gentle touch on the arm while talking, or a pumped high five in celebration, are two examples. A small amount of human touch shows that you appreciate and care through non-verbal efforts. Of course, don’t become “creepy boss or co-worker”. If you don’t know what I mean, then just avoid this style.

In the end, we are all like cars hurtling down the highway with a five-channel CB radio. No matter what I do or how loudly I do it, if you are motivated by one style and I am trying another (usually what works for me) it probably won’t be too effective. Like you being on channel one and me on channel four. You can shout all you want. It won't get through. This can leave you feeling unappreciated for your efforts and short of your motivation goals.

Next time you wish to provide some motivation, consider expanding your approach using the RPM model and remember to motivate unto others the way they want to be motivated!

Silence, Nature and Truth

2009-06-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

I just spent a week in Rocky Mountain National Park with my wife’s extended family. Visiting a different national park every year has become an annual tradition. We hike, laugh and enjoy each others' company. This year’s highlight was a solo hike into the mountains, alone in the grandeur of a godly place.

I find it fascinating that throughout history, when every great religious prophet wanted to connect with God, they went alone into nature. Jesus and Moses wandered the desert. Buddha sat under a bodhi tree. Mohammed prayed in the wilderness. The Aborigines have their walk-about. First Nation’s people their vision quest, and for centuries mystics have isolated themselves in deep woods or caves, speaking to empty air, eyes inward.

Why?

Part of the answer is in silence itself. Every religious tradition teaches, it is in silence that God speaks the loudest. When we are silent, the chattering veil of our mind begins to fade away allowing a connection to something deeper.

This was beautifully stated by the poet Rumi, when he wrote, “The mystery cannot by answered by repeating the question, nor can it be bought by going to amazing places. Only until I have silenced the eyes and stilled the heart. Only then can I begin to cross over from confusion.”

In the quest to understand our greater truth, silence becomes the mother tongue. It is the essential first step to greater wisdom.

But being quiet, in and of itself, is not the teaching. The lesson of the prophets is more than just silence. The prophets teach us instead to be silent in nature.

There is a quality that exists in the natural world that many of us seek. It is the way things happen, a divine order, which has a sense of “this is the way it should be”. We can call this quality “is ness”; as in “it just is”.

This “is ness”, the events of natural life, have happened on this planet an infinite amount of times, an infinite number of days beyond human knowing. This natural order occurs without the addition or imprint of human preference or perspective.

For example, when a bobcat kills a rabbit it is never personal between the two. If a strong wind blows down a maple, it is not a deliberate premeditated act by the wind against the tree. Instead it is what happens every day in the natural world; actions without prejudice, revenge, or ego. The only considerations are food, shelter or continuation of the species. Everything in nature, unlike what is created by humans, occurs without personal agenda.

Why is this important?

Quantum physics teaches that everything has a “field” around it, a molecular energetic at an atomic level that interacts with the “fields” of other things. If you place two pendulum clocks together, they will synchronize their tick-tock swings. Women who live together often report their monthly cycles coordinating over time. Fields mutually affect one another and in matters of impact, it is the larger field that effects the smaller. After all, the earth revolves around the sun, not the other way around.

This is the wisdom of the prophets. Every time we place ourselves in the larger field of nature, we create an opportunity to be shaped and changed by nature’s “is ness”. By being in this larger field, we reset our own basic truths, we realign beyond agenda and ego to a deeper place.
For over twenty-five years in northern Canada I have put people into the wilderness for a solo experience. The instructions are usually simple. Find a spot that calls you. Sit quietly. Do not do anything. Just be. Make wherever you are, in however it feels right, your home.

Upon return, in almost every case, I am struck by a certain quality that returnees exhibit. The eyes are often exceptionally bright, and the voices soft and quiet. No matter what the experience, each returnee comes back changed. This transformation is not typically about what was seen but what was felt. It was less that people changed, but instead stood more revealed.

A few years ago I was sitting on the shores of Lake Onondaga with Chief Orville Lyons, of the Onondaga Nation. Chief Lyons was telling me about his people’s various paths to wisdom. After 30 minutes of discussing initiatory rites and ceremonies, he paused, his voice almost a whisper. As if telling me a great secret, he said, “You know. If you really want the truth…ask a tree.”

Verbal Aikido

2009-06-08T12:53:00.000-07:00

The law of Probability Dispersal decrees that whatever it is that hits the fan will not be evenly distributed. -- Unknown

In aikido, when someone is dead set on an attack, an interesting response is to “take someone’s balance”. On the mat this means you literally go to where their body is not and shift your attacker's balance by taking advantage of their rigidity. For instance, if attacked hard from the right, you step in close to their left and with a small movement create an imbalance in their focus and thus force them to change approach. By not engaging directly in the attack, but sidestepping it, you turn the assault from rigid to fluid.

In a human interaction you can use the same approach of take someone’s balance by carefully noting the tone and intention of the communication.

Have you ever been in the following situation? In a meeting someone raises his or her hand to ask a question. After calling on them out pops the following, “Why don’t we seem to care more about our staff?” The question leaves you in a defensive position, a bit flabbergasted and unsettled.

“Why of course I care” you start. But the look on your face shows a little shock and discomfort that’s translated into lack of surety. The asker is subtly smirking, drawing a line in the sand and silently demanding an instant response. The old saying, “Never let ‘em see you sweat” isn’t working. You have lost.

Why?

Because you were “attacked” in a manner that prevented any real possibility of response or resolution. The goal was not to discuss or resolve the issue. Instead the goal was to try and surprise you and create a position of power and one-ups-manship. Sometimes this is conscious. Often times not. But the results are always the same. The strategy worked because the query did not allow for any positive movement or resolution. There was no room to reach common ground. You become essentially “pinned” by a demand. Held fast by an indirect statement embedded in a question.

Interestingly the opposite scenario is also possible. Sometimes we can become pinned just by an irresolvable statement alone. For instance, your boss out of the blue and staring in your general direction says, “Our customer service was very disappointing this month!”

What can you say, “No it wasn’t!” Not likely. Shift into therapist mode with “You sound upset.” Only if you are not particularly interested in keeping your job. Again you have been pinned and for the same reason; handed an impossible point with a delivery manner that did not allow for movement or resolution.

In both cases, however, you have an option— “taking someone’s balance”. This strategy works effectively because the positions held are rigid and inflexible and not in spite of it. Taking someone’s balance means we step out of the way of the attack and effortlessly respond with the opposite posture. Like on the mat, we do not engage in their rigidity but seek a position that is 180 degrees from their delivery method.

This means if asked an irresolvable question reverse the query by asking for the statement. If you are the target of an aggressive statement, flip instead to a question.

In the first case, if challenged by a question, reversing it with a request for a statement helps to get at the hidden position in the query. Feeling “stuck” is often as a result of knowing there is a strong unacknowledged point of view. But because it’s unacknowledged it’s impossible to respond to and thus create movement. When unspoken this strong opinion basically can leaves one shadow boxing, trying to dance and weave from an unknown assault.

The response is simple. Calmly say, “It sounds like you have a point of view. I can respond more effectively if I hear your statement. What is it?” Consider the above example about supporting line workers. You might hear, for instance, “Well, I believe we don’t value our staff. In fact I don’t feel particularly valued.” This is now an opening that you can react to for further dialogue and possible resolution. The door has been opened for a more honest and forthright interaction.

In the opposite situation, when attacked by a statement try instead reversing it with a question.

Consider the boss’ challenge about customer service. The simple oppositional response is to say, “Robin. I can understand you are upset about service. I really want to take action but I don’t know what to do with your comment. Can you ask me a question I can respond to instead?” is very helpful. What you have done is to shift your boss away from a rigid positional stance into a potential dialogue. She might respond by saying, “What I’d like to know is what can we do to improve order fulfillment times?” Now you have something to work with and a discussion has just been entered rather than a one-sided and closed encounter.

A fine-point to using both techniques is to notice how in both situations you made a subtle request for what you wanted. In the first scenario, it was “It sounds like you have a point of view. I can respond more effectively if I hear your statement. What is it?” In the second, you directly say “Can you ask me a question I can respond to instead?” But note, both times you made sure you asked for what you wanted.

The time to use “taking someone’s balance” is when you are feeling stuck in a tough situation. Your instincts will tell you when to apply these techniques. Just remember, the next time you are feeling challenged but not sure why it is likely you are facing an irresolvable attack. It is irresolvable because its nature does not allow for forward movement or resolution. This feeling of being pinned is a consequence of literally no wiggle room. When this happens try using “taking someone’s balance”. Just take the energy being given and do the opposite.

Try this: When you feel yourself pinned in a conversation, see if you can step away from the interaction. If pinned by a question, seek the statement in the moment. If held by a statement, go for the question.

Negative Space

2009-05-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

James Utterback in his book “Mastering the Dynamics of Innovation” tells the story of the American ice industry in New England in the late 1800s. It was a thriving business. Companies would cut ice from frozen lakes and sell them around the world. In one instance, Utterback writes, “The largest single shipment was 200 tons that was shipped to India. 100 tons got there un-melted, but this was enough to make a profit.”

But innovation brought with it change. The ice harvesters were put out of business by those companies who invented mechanical ice makers. Thus, shipping was no longer an issue. You could make the ice in the city where it was needed.

These ice makers, however, were put out of business by companies who invented refrigeration. Why buy ice when you could make it in your own home?

The sad thing was the ice harvesters could never see the advantages of the new technology of ice making when it came to market. They continued to try and survive by doing what had always made them successful: better saws, better storage, better transportation. The ice-makers could never see the advantages of refrigerators and adopt this new technology to their business model. Neither the ice harvesters or ice makers had the vision or capacity to see beyond what was known and successful to them at the time.

There is a term in psychology for this way of thinking. It is called “pre-cognitive memory”. It means humans will typically only act upon what the memory of their past experience has taught them. Essentially, we limit ourselves by relying on only what we know. Our past limits our ability to change in the future.

A simple example is this. If you take a jar and fill it with flies and put a lid on it for a few days, when you take the lid off very few of the flies will leave the jar. Their memory of what is possible and its experience limits their thinking and actions. Only the boldest of flies will leave the container that serves as an artificial boundary.

The business world is filled with similar examples of once-thriving industries that never changed their status quo, even once the writing was on the wall. In 1960, the Swiss controlled between 85 and 90 percent of the world market in wrist-watches. Swiss watchmakers had a fine reputation for quality and reliability, and their timepieces were in demand everywhere.

Sometime in the 1960's, two Swiss engineers developed the world's first digital watch. A great technological breakthrough, you might think; but the engineers could find no interest in their own country in pursuing this new development. Try as they might, all doors remained closed. The repeated answer: “This digital toy will never replace the quality of a hand-made Swiss timepiece. No one wants this!”

After much frustration, the engineers ended up selling their invention at an industry convention to two companies--Texas Instruments in the United States and Seiko Watches in Japan. Twenty years later, the Swiss watch-makers controlled only eight percent of the world market. They’d denied the signs of onrushing change, and paid the price for their blindness.

The question is, how can we learn to see beyond our boundaries and embrace unknown ideas? One answer may lie in a centuries-old tradition from the American Southwest.

The Mescalero Apache are famous around the world for their "invisibility." They can seemingly blend into any environment and become unseen by the enemy, using minimal camouflage and trickery. Many accounts have been written of whole regiments of US soldiers riding a few feet away from an Apache warrior without observing him--out in the open and yet unseen.

A number of years ago, I had an opportunity to spend some time with a Mescalero Apache elder who told me his tribe's secret. "We move in the negative space," he said.

"I don't understand.”

"Look over there," he said, pointing to a grove of pinion pine. "What do you see?"

"I see some trees, some rocks, some scrub brush."

"Yes,” he answered, “But what do you see between the trees, the rocks and the brush?"

"Between . . . ?” I asked, perplexed.

"Yes, between. We rarely take note of the space that exists between objects. What do you see there?"

"Why, nothing. It's sort of an empty space that just exists. It's created by the space taken up by other things. I never took note of it before."

"Exactly! That is called ‘negative space,’ and it is where the Apache moves when he doesn't want to be seen. That is the secret of our invisibility. We stay in the negative space where we are never noticed."

"Well, then, how do I too learn to be invisible? To move in the negative space?" I urgently asked.

He quietly responded, "The first thing to remember is . . . it is always there."

Like the Apache warrior, we must remember that new ideas, approaches, and perspectives are always there. The secret is to constantly challenge yourself to see the unseen, the unknown on a daily basis. The gift of change is that it shakes up our current view of the world, better allowing us to see any negative space that exists. When we can do that then we can embrace the unknown.

The reason the New England ice manufacturers and the Swiss watch industry were so blind to change was because all they saw was the known world. They could not see between their perceptions to the negative space, the unknown potential. Like the soldiers of the U.S. Cavalry, they passed by what they were seeking . . . and it was there all the time.

Staying Hopeful in Hard Times

2009-05-08T19:09:00.000-07:00

A king suffered from terrible mood swings. One day he asked a wise man for help, explaining his problem. The wise man gave it some thought, and returned a month later with a small beautifully carved wooden box. He told the king it would help with his emotional mood swings. When the king asked how much he owed for such a remedy, the wise man said, “It is a gift that has no price. However, you must promise to use it every day.”

The king agreed. When he opened the box he found inside a simple gold ring. On it was carved the following words, “This too shall pass”.

The wise man told the king, “This is the secret to a happy life. When things are going poorly, remember that everything is temporary. Know that whatever is heavy on your soul will eventually pass. Times will change. They always do. The issue will eventually get better. So trust that whatever challenges you face today, will not be so important tomorrow.”

“But”, continued the wise man, “that is only half the secret of the ring. ‘This too shall pass’ also reminds us that when things are going well, and our life is sweet, we need to stay in the present and appreciate the moment. The good times also don’t last forever, so remember to enjoy the moment and be grateful for what you have. Even if this is only a cup of tea with a friend on a sunny day, hold it, for it may fortify you through harder times.”

In my own life, I have had some very good and some very bad moments. The one thing that has stayed constant is that in no matter what occurs, I am almost always surprised and never able to predict a shift before it happens. But if I stay present to the good, and hopeful in the face of the bad, the path through usually feels softer, kinder and more generous.

On my right hand, I imagine a small and simple gold ring. I wear it always, wherever I go.

The Ice Storm

2009-04-13T16:26:00.000-07:00

It has been a long winter in New Hampshire. The weather has been tough, the days cold, and even now, in mid-April, the mornings are 30 degrees. This makes for a weariness of spirit that is palpable on many people's faces.

Last December we also had an ice storm, which left my town without power for ten days. During the darkest time of the year, that's ten days with no heat, electricity, hot water or light. I am a creature of my comforts, and it was a difficult struggle. For a few days it was fun, but as each day rolled into the next, and we all got dirtier, colder and more worried, the winter took it's toll. My daughter told me to think of it as a test of my character, and I thought, "If this is a test, then I am getting a solid C minus".

The day after the storm had massive tree loss as well. People looked out on their properties and gardens, many of whom had lovingly tended their land for many years, but now saw total devastation. One friend, who had painstakingly developed a cross-country ski center over four decades, had it all destroyed in one night. The phrase, "Looked like a bomb went off" was said more times than I can remember. The old timers commented that not since the hurricane of 1938 had the town suffered so much damage. The sound of cracking tree limbs for the days following was like gunfire going off again and again. It made everyone a bit jumpy.

Our home, a farm house over 230 years old, with massive pines and maples, was significantly effected. The days following the storm we hauled out 14 dump trucks of tree limbs, and that was only the start. I couldn't get to my barn, the limbs were so deep. When two feet of snow fell a week later, it was almost a relief, because now the ground was covered. But Spring brought a melt, and with it the reality of a clean-up that will take some many years to complete.

Time and money, of course, can right many a problem. This year is no different. The checks are being written, and my bones are quite weary at times from all the hauling and raking. Plus, we've had a lot of help. But still, the loss has been significant, and sometimes my heart breaks a little when I see the damage done to a two-hundred-year-old maple that was my favorite tree. It was a particular beauty, with massive limbs that came out at right angles to the trunk and then arched skyward 60 feet. Some of those great branches are now gone, snapped from the weight of the ice. My garden, a source of great pride and creative effort over the years, was also damaged, and many of my favorite shrubs and plants have been destroyed.

Gardeners like to comment with any loss, "It's an opportunity to try something new", but truth be told, it is a bit too fresh these days for optimistic cliche. That said, I was moved today by the haiku of the poet Masahide, who wrote, "Since my house burnt down / I now have a better view / of the rising moon."

Tonight is a clear, cold sky and I can see the moon rising through the now open woods. There is a great horned owl calling for a mate from a broken tree. After a long day, this moon and sound, makes me feel better. In the end some things never change, even in the midst of so much of it. One is this. We take our hope where we can, the best that we can, knowing that nature and time will always bring us another chance to try again.

Kilimanjaro

2009-04-13T08:10:00.000-07:00

In January, I found myself in Tanzania. I was attempting to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa and seventh tallest in the world. It's summit is over 23,000 feet. Most climbing stories are filled with conquest, or at least heroic survival in the face of difficult odds. This is not one of them.

I didn’t finish. I didn’t even come close. In fact, my adventure was one of the shortest climbs in Kili history.

When I arrived at the town of Kilimanjaro, I was very sick. I didn’t know it but I was coming down with the flu. I thought maybe I had gotten some food poisoning, having had a bad ostrich “Philly Cheese Steak” the night before. I assumed my stomach would quickly get better. Travel sickness for me is usually a "pass through", remedied with over the counter medication.

However, the next day, I was not feeling different. Instead I just lay in my hot, small and depressing room, the click, click, click of a fan overhead, sweating, feverish, and frequently vomiting. I was sick, as in only "Africa sick", which is a special kind of horror. Unless you've been there it's hard to describe, but suffice to say, death seems like a workable option.

Having missed my first days departure, I tried again the next morning, feeling a bit stronger. I had paid a lot of money, told a lot of people I was going, did a lot of planning and traveled a long way to make this climb. I did not want to be denied so I put forward a good face and headed out. I assumed all would be well. Sadly, I assumed wrong.

I went up a trail called Rongai, which is described as the easiest path to the summit. It is gentle and sloping. Rongai has the highest success rate of any of the trails up Kilimanjaro. At the first camp, after a normally easy hike of two hours and ten thousand feet, I collapsed into my tent. I had been "two exits, no waiting" the entire hike up, rushing into the bush every ten minutes. Though incredibly nauseous, to my horror, my porters kept trying to feed me

“Dabid, you must eat," came the plea.

“Please" I moaned. "I need to rest!”

“Dabid! Please. Will be very bad if you do not. Have potat and soup and pasta and chicken,” came more strident wide-eyed efforts.

“OK", I weakly submitted. "Potato. But then sleep."

I meekly pushed some food around on my plate, and lay staring.

That night was filled with hourly up and outs from my small tent into the cold mountain air. Sweating, feverish, I vomited and worse. I think there is a special place in hell called "African bush toilet" and I was there with frightening regularity. At about four o'clock in the morning I knew I was not going a step closer to the summit. Not even close. I was done. My goal to climb Kili was over.

It was pretty clear from morning conversations with my guide that he agreed. If I could not climb a simple trail for a few hours, than I might die if I pushed into harsh conditions. At the moment I only wished I was dead, and that's a big difference from the real thing. So, we decided to stay at camp an extra day, enjoy the most of what we could, rest, and then head back down the trail to the entrance. It was not a hard decision, as my body made it for me.

That next day in camp I hung with my crew, telling lots of stories and doing lots of singing. I got to know my porters, cooks and guides in a way one usually does not because you are often separated by protocols and the task at hand. But since I was “the boss” and there was no task at hand, all I craved was conversation. We talked about family, life in Tanzania, how hard and cold Kili is at the top, and that my guide had summited over 200 times. I found out he was the guide for Jimmy Carter, when he climbed Kili, though apparently he too didn’t summit. President Carter did, however, go a lot further than me. Of course, so close to the election, we also talked a lot about Obama. We ended the day speaking of the dreams we had for our children and the world. As night fell, we said "Lala salama", or "Good night" before heading to our separate tents.

The next day I hiked down to where I had started. My legs still wobbly, but feeling better. Tanzania is very concerned with bureaucracy and the leaving of a park when you are not supposed to is no different. The last morning after breakfast, I was introduced to the area ranger who asked me to fill out the log book. It was an old accountants ledger, musty smelling, ratty and falling apart. I called it “The Book of Shame”, because while you filled it out, the ranger making sure no mistakes were made, pointed out each item to be accurately completed. There was a column for your name, passport number, number in your party, etc. There was exactly ten columns for data, including the reason you were leaving early, and again why you needed to leave early.

This was the first camp, and not too hard to reach, so there were few entries in the book. In fact, the last entry was six months earlier, and in ten years of log keeping they had compiled exactly forty entries. You do the math. Suffice to say, I was in a very select group. The ranger gave me a dismissive look that said, “You sad sad man”, snapped close the log and whipped away without a word.

When I exited the park, I was again asked to sign an identical book with an identical looking ranger. I called this log, “The Book of Failure”. Same questions, same procedure, and same attitude. To add insult to injury, the ranger concluded by saying, “Please sir. Sit here. Not with the porters”, separating me as if I was an infected leper. It takes some serious “I’m OK, you’re OK” not to feel totally demoralized when twice reminded of how little was accomplished. Following a two hour ride back to the hotel, and a quick shower, I was headed home to New Hampshire.

So? Here's the question. After thousands of dollars, untold hours of training and planning, not to mention the travel, was it worth it?

I can only say this.

During my first dreadful night of sickness on the mountain, I dreamt a lot about pineapple and apple cider. I was so parched from fever and dehydration that my dreams had me drinking or trying to drink all through the night. In the morning, exhausted and weary, and confronting my quick abandonment of the mountain, I asked my cook, "Do you have pineapple?" His face erupted into a smile. Ten minutes later a plate emerged with bright yellow slices of fruit. As I sat watching the sun rise on Kilimanjaro, enjoying a sense of peace that can only come from total detachment, I took my first bite. The taste was indescribable. It was the best pineapple I had ever tasted. In fact, it was the best damn thing I had ever tasted, period. Kilimanjaro, which had so clearly humbled me, had also brought me to a state of complete bliss. It was an extraordinary moment.

Carl Jung said, "Every defeat for the ego is a victory for the soul." On Kilimanjaro, the victory in what had been accomplished for my soul was through a most unlikely route. I was again reminded that sometimes we grow more through subtraction than addition, and in what is not accomplished is where our greatest forward progress can occur.

The Outer Work

2009-03-23T13:40:00.000-07:00

During this time of deep struggle and fear, I am struck by the sense of inner corruption magnified time and again on our 24-hour news shows. Politicians, CEO's, bankers, mortgage lenders...the list goes on and on. One wonders how did these leaders get so bad. Did they start this way or was there some form of "soul loss" that worked itself into their inner nature? This behavior would be literally unbelievable was it not happening to my 401K.

I can't believe that they started their careers to screw us, that their first day of work they awoke, looked in the mirrors and said, "My dream is to ruin lives." Even Bernie Madoff, couldn't have started his career as a Ponzi scheme. He must have somewhere been about something better.

There is nothing sadder than those who try to change the world but have never looked inward to change themselves first. It is an opportunity rife for some form of destruction. The worst to witness are the falls from grace of people who held our highest esteem. Religious leaders who became sexual predators, political leaders tainted by corruption, and spiritual leaders who ended up egomaniacs. This doesn't even mention those entrusted with our own personal dreams of homes and financial futures.

We know this intuitively because our greatest societal hero's are those who either through circumstance or hard work used their lives as a mirror to change that which was around them. Think Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Jane Goodall or Mother Teresa. It is the best and only place to start, and so few people really ever go there.

I once asked a wise teacher the best advice she had for finding other wise teachers. "How do you really know" I wondered, "that someone's character is trustworthy?"

Her answer was quite profound.

"Always make sure this teacher is a "learner" at least once a season", she said. "It doesn't matter what they do, it can be anything, as long as it is out of their comfort zone. The key is they must be in a place that has them as a beginner. By being a beginner we stay humble. When we are humble we do not become over-attached to our role. It is when we become too heavily identified with what we do versus who we are that we are open to...mischief."

The theologian Meister Eckart said it another way, “The outer work will never be great if the inner work is small.” In this change of season are you doing anything that has you as a beginner? What new opportunities await that will smooth the rough edges off your ego, by putting you in a place of discomfort and newness? Remember, ultimately every loss of ego is a win for our integrity.

To Act Without Knowing

2009-03-23T10:33:00.000-07:00

In the late 70’s, as a student at Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts, I was part of a small group of individuals who were protesting the current South African government. Our intention was to get the board of the college to divest it’s stock from all companies engaged in business practices in that country. Our thought was, put public pressure to bear through industry, and begin to create a larger movement of collegiate awareness. At that point Hampshire was only six years old, a wonderful collective idea born from the minds of local educators wanting to create a different kind of college experience. The board was keeping the place running with almost no endowment or reserves, dedicated but underpaid faculty and a very small but enthusiastic student body—in short rubber bands and duct tape.

Managing some very precious and limited funds, the board was largely unmoved by our enthusiasm. As part of our strategic response, and borrowing from lessons learned in the 1960’s, we “took over” the administration building, holding a multi-day sit-in. With guitars strumming, students barring the doors and home made protest signs hanging from the windows, we vowed to stay until we saw action. We got a commitment to begin serious dialogue.

In 1979, through courageous vision, hard discussion and probably some less than wanted national publicity, the board did in fact do just what the students wanted. Hampshire became the first college in the United States to divest its portfolio of all businesses operating in South Africa. Though a tiny institutional amount it set off a wave of similar action throughout the country. Historical record shows that in 1994, South Africa opened its polls to a fully representative democratic election and as a consequence Nelson Mandela became president.

At the time did I think there was a connection? Of course not! It would be a huge act of hubris to even consider the idea. It was, and for 29 years remained, a distant memory and occasional eye-rolling story told to my kids.

But on November 30, 2008 my wife and I attended a concert in Boston of the Soweto Gospel Choir, South Africa’s premier gospel chorus. At the end of the concert their spokesperson asked us to stand for the South African national anthem. At its conclusion, she preceded to say something that caught my attention. She solemnly began. “I want to personally thank the people of Massachusetts,” she announced. “It was here that the collegiate divestment strategy was born. It ended up creating a movement that helped change our country forever.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I turned to me wife, and said, “Oh my God. She’s talking about Hampshire! That was me!” My wife patted my leg, and sweetly smiled. It remains one of my proudest moments.

We never know, do we, what a small and passionate act will set in motion? It may take years, decades in fact, to become reality. Great dreams can rarely be judged in the moment. The changes that occur, especially those of large injustice, often take significant time to be felt. Many times this change can happen without us even being aware. Yet this begs a very important question; are you willing to act, even if your work never knowingly makes a difference?

It is one of our most profound cultural myths--that our problems are too big, and the issues too large, for each of us to have impact. That somehow we don’t really count. Guidance to this battle comes from the Jewish phrase "tikkun olam", which means, “To repair the world”. The belief is that at some point, the very fabric of the universe was ripped into many pieces, but if each of us takes one small section and does our part, we can over time repair the whole. We may never know what the sewing of our section does, but in the end it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we begin.

The Choice of Conflict

2009-03-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

One day a scorpion asks a frog to help it get to the other side of a deep lake.

“Can you swim me on your back across the water?” asks the scorpion.

“Are you crazy?” says the frog. “You’re a scorpion. You’ll sting me and I’ll die!”

The scorpion calmly responds, “That’s silly. I can’t swim. If I sting you, and you die, then I’ll drown. Why would I do that?”

The frog considers this, and says, “Makes sense. Hop on my back. I’ll take you to the other side.”

About halfway across the lake, the scorpion suddenly, and without warning, drives it’s stinger into the frog. Gasping in pain and dying, the frog pleads, “Why did you do that? Now we will both die?”

The scorpion calmly answers, “I can’t help it. It’s what I do. It’s my nature.”

Consider for a moment all the struggles you have in your life that revolve around problematic relationships. How many of these struggles are long term and rarely seem to break through. You can fight the issues, consistently be disappointed, and find yourself forever frustrated. But if it is in their nature, that is, if what you want changed is not who they are, you are more likely to find yourself in a pattern of conflict retread than anything else.

If this is a conflict that has occurred three times previously, ask yourself the following: Have I presented my concerns fairly and reasonably? If yes, then is it in this person’s nature to be different? If you know it honestly is not, can you accept them for who they are, without expectation?

So much of the battle is in our minds, and not as we think, the responsibility or problem of the other person. If you can get to a place of acceptance of this basic truth, it may not be ideal, but you may find that a sense of relief and calm begins to pervade the relationship.

If you cannot, then lower your expectations or appropriately and with integrity withdraw from the relationship.

In the end, what happens in us is far greater than what happens to us. It is our one true option.

The Hard Ask

2008-08-19T10:37:00.000-07:00

Tip O'Neil, the legendary speaker of the house from Massachusetts, served from 1952-1987 in the US Congress. What is less well known is he lost his first campaign. As a senior at Boston College he ran for the Cambridge City Council and was defeated by only 150 votes. Afterwards he was talking with a neighbor, and he inquired, "Did you vote for me?"

"No" she responded.

"Why not?" the incredulous O'Neil asked. "How could you not support me?"

"Because" she quietly stated. "You never asked."

A powerful lesson for O'Neil, he never lost another election for 35 years.

The poet Rumi says, "You must ask for what you truly want." All great coaches basically offer the same advice. First, be crystal clear about your needs and the more specific the better. Consider the lesson of the woman who kept praying for a life companion who would love and adore her, be there no matter what, and she would do the same. She came home one day to find a dog on her porch!

Step two, as simple as it sounds, ask! So much in our lives goes unstated, with assumptions that either the other should know or we don’t deserve what we want. It is not anyone else’s business to take care of your needs. That is your job. If you are not willing to do it, then it’s true…you do get what you ask for. This is a lesson I've learned from my wife, who plans exactly what she wants every year for her birthday. I on the other hand, spent years in birthday disappointment until she gave me the hard facts. "If you want your birthday to be special, then design it the way you want. Don't expect me to do it for you!" I've had some great parties since.

Today, consider something you really want, and make the request. If it is fair, and appropriate, you might be surprised. You certainly won't be any worse than if you had never asked in the first place. Nothing is the same as nothing. It also allows another the opportunity to support your dream. In the end, that is a good deal for all.

In Praise of Flip Flopping

2008-08-12T05:26:00.000-07:00

I have been watching the news with interest lately as the term "flip-flopper" has been bandied about. It seems to be the strategy for painting a candidate as weak or unsure. In defending themselves, candidates have continually used the phrase, "As I have said all along..." to justify their positions. They bristle at the word, as pundits and political surrogates continually try and paint them with this brand.

I could not disagree more with this philosophical view.

In my experience, great leaders continually reassess situations and only the very foolish or fundamentally flawed will hold a position long after wisdom or judgment informs otherwise. A very strong case can be made that our current president has consistently held to decisions long after a changing environment would guide otherwise. By his own admission, Bush says he is not "self-reflective" as if this is a point of pride. The ability to learn from our mistakes, admit error and change course is the first thing you teach MBA students or even your own child as a key to success. But somehow this has not been the case with our current political environment. By using the term over and over (in one random two hour span of watching CNN I heard it 12 times) we only serve to solidify our national obsession with stubbornness and lack of flexibility. We think this is a good thing. It is not.

Show me a business leader who has not over time changed his or her mind on significant strategy issues and I will show you an unemployed one. Good leaders set strong direction. Great leaders continually adjust within essential key values to a changing world around them. Are you the same person today that you were ten years ago? Are the choices you made then the best ones for today? If you wouldn't wear the same hair style or clothing that you did in 1998, why would you continue on important matters to hold to positions that no longer make sense? This is the craziness of the "flip-flopper" position.

There is a difference, of course, between changing one's position because of new information versus political advantage. The first shows deep leadership character while the second has an odor of cynicism surrounding it. However, I would find it refreshing if a candidate said, "I used to think about this one way, but I have since learned otherwise and now think about it differently." I value one's ability to learn from mistakes, to admit error or to model growth. It is something our current president seems unwilling to do and our presidential candidates seem to avoid all together.

I might suggest instead a national day of flip-flopping where all of us admit the mistakes we have made in the past decade and what we have learned or changed because of it. I think it would be good for us. I know it would be good for our country.

Alignment

2008-07-01T07:49:00.000-07:00

What does alignment mean? Think of a car going down a highway. If all four tires are aligned and you take your hands off the steering wheel, your car will still go in the direction it is headed. But if one of the tires is out of alignment the car will shake and begin to drift. If two are out of line you'll end up in a ditch. Alignment is about critical mass. Using this analogy, the less tires you have, the more critical that the mass be aligned. On an eighteen wheeler, one tire won't effect the truck's direction too drastically. On a motorcycle it can be deadly.

Alignment means when I make decisions or take independent action, I am always informed by a larger context and act accordingly. Some think alignment is the same as agreement. It is not. It is also not the same as trust. Trust is a by-product of alignment. Alignment is instead a deep understanding between stake-holders, that only occurs over time through repeated engaged conversations. It is an essential part of any change effort. Where misalignment occurs, is where seams will often be worked by those who are disaffected or resistant. Alignment is most essential in complexity, when deep understanding to a larger whole may be your only path through a big change.

On a car, if the wheels are .34 degrees out of alignment, or just 0.17 inches off, on an average driving year of 12,000 miles, your tires will have traveled sideways for 68 miles! That's a lot of drag. When we are misaligned organizationally, it is felt as resistance and lethargy. In a relationship, it is felt as conflict or deadness. And when our values are misaligned with the way we live it is felt as discontent and even depression.

Alignment requires a significant ability to manage paradox--what the philosopher Georg Hegel called “the availability heuristic”. This means the ability to hold differing points of view that seemed mutually incompatible at the same time. Holding paradox can only occur when a bigger context is created. If this larger context doesn't exist then individual self-interest or ego will usually win the day.

To attain organizational alignment, frequently remind others that:

The collective future is greater than the past.
Their questions greater than the answers.
Combined contribution is greater than individual gain.

On a relationship basis, ask:

Where do we share the same vision and dream's about our future? Where do we share the same values and ways of acting?
In difference, what is either mostly right, partly right or even somewhat right in the others point of view? Remember, that in all relationship misalignment's, it always makes sense to them.
What are our relationship "no matter whats", i.e. those things which we will never sacrifice for either demands or opportunities?

Finally, on an individual basis, we can stay aligned by remembering the following philosophical points.

Keep asking what is the larger goal I am trying to attain? Have short breaks in your day to re-align yourself. Think of it as the pause that refreshes.
It's not a choice between what you know and what is new. Instead frame new demands as you need instead.
Think in terms of addition versus decision. The goal is to add the "new this" to the "old that". Don't get stuck in "this way or that". Find what anthropologist Angeles Arrien calls, "the formidable middle".
Remember that in the end, it is all about discovery. Explorers know this, and so always make room in the present for the possibility of what might come next.

Obama's Unteachable Quality

2008-06-22T15:29:00.000-07:00

I do not write political blogs. However, today I am making an exception.

On the day of the New Hampshire debate, my wife and I hosted Senator Obama in his only appearance of the day---a speech in our southern New Hampshire backyard. A gorgeous September afternoon, we had 1200 people attend. By way of context, our town’s population is only 5600.

Afterwards, my wife invited the Senator to join us for lunch. We had catered in his trademark chicken and steamed vegetables, along with sandwiches for his staff. We could also pack it up, so he could eat it on the road. The choice was his.

That night was arguably the biggest moment to date of his political career. Additionally, Senator Obama had a cold. If there was any reason to back out the door gracefully, this was it. But instead he asked his assistant Reggie for his opinion.

“Let’s eat here” Reggie joked. “It will only end up in our laps anyway.”

So it came to pass that my wife and I sat with the Senator quietly talking and eating lunch at a small wooden table. Though we covered the election, his predictions and general party politics, mostly he was interested in our lives. For thirty minutes he asked lots of questions about our dreams and family challenges. He was engaged, curious and present.

For twenty-five years I have written, taught and consulted in the area of leadership and change. I have been fortunate to spend time with a lot of great leaders in all types of situations and I have personally seen almost every one of both party’s candidates. I know when there is a there there. Too many people look through you, seeking the next handshake, the next set of eyes with a bigger payoff. The authenticity of presence in a leader is a rare thing. Because for a leader to be truly present he or she must have awareness, introspection and humility. Leaders who are present can see the uncharted path through complicated issues. They understand how to reach forward into the unknown. They know themselves, their strengths and limitations. Finally, they connect to those they wish to lead.

I am moved by Barack Obama's courage. I am compelled by his vision. But mostly it is his presence, attentiveness and curiosity to my life when he didn’t need to be, that stirred me the most. He is the rarest of leaders; someone I follow because of a simple but unteachable quality. He is present. I listen to Barack Obama because, when there were a host of reasons not to, he to listened to me.

Surprise and Delight

2008-03-10T10:28:00.000-07:00

Recently I was in New York City for a few days with my twenty-two year old stepdaughter Kate. She is tall, loving and gorgeous. But she is also at a time in her college career where what comes next is both a bit scary and unknown. Though an outdoor adventurer, lately Kate has been in need of a little confidence and inspiration. My idea, through the initiation of a friend, was to go on a typical New York bonding trip--a whirlwind of shows, museums, dinners and lots of new and different people.

On day three, after hauling Kate to yet another “art experience” (which featured a 78 year old woman’s honest but naked self-portraits) she was tired, cranky and more than a little over-whelmed. I was feeling under appreciated and doing my best to be enthusiastic…but truthfully, the question of whether this had been a good idea had entered my mind more than once.

After lunch, I excused myself to go to the restroom. The unisex bathroom was classic SoHo…a mixture of obscenity, strange offerings and scratched out advertisements. But there to the right of the sink was a small yellow Post-It that had been placed low and out of the way so that I didn’t at first notice it. It said, “You are loved” in bright red ink. I was touched. Someone in the middle of the most impersonal of places had managed to catch my attention in the deepest personal way. The note made me smile, shook me from my funk and gave me a little lift. I took a deep breath, dried my hands, and went back to Kate.

Making conversation a few blocks from the restaurant I started in. “You know what I love about New York?” I enthusiastically exclaimed. “You find the most interesting things in the public bathrooms. “It fascinates me. I just found a Post-It note in our restaurant’s bathroom that said…”

Before I could finish my sentence, Kate grinning from ear to ear pulled a stack of Post-It notes from her pocket. Clutching them in her smooth fingers, she carefully held them up. They all said the same thing…“You are loved”. She was the author.

Unbeknownst to me, this has been one of Kate’s responses to the global crisis of hopelessness. She has for years gone around putting these Post-It notes in public places, awaiting unsuspecting people like me to discover them. In this case, however, she got to see the impact of her “You are loved” installations. That I was the recipient of her work was an added bonus. She did not do it for me. She just did it at the beginning of the meal because she was so inspired, and I happened to have found it at the end.

It takes a lot to genuinely surprise me, but in that moment I was more astonished with delight than I could ever remember. Kate looked about as proud and happy as I had ever seen her, and the rest of our time together was smooth, relaxed and laughter filled. The trip ended as I had hoped--magical and memorable.

I am left today thinking about the importance in our lives of surprise and delight. How so much of it comes from a heartfelt showing of love, without a need for reciprocation or even ownership. In the end, even the smallest of actions can create an opening, a moment of grace. And after, everything is different.

The Four Rules to a Simple Life

2008-01-18T17:24:00.000-08:00

The psychiatrist Scott Peck wrote, "The paradox of life is that we are all trapped inside of a box, and the instructions on how to get out of the box are written on the outside of the box." Life can be a complicated process and figuring out a way through is often tough and confusing.

In a way, we are all looking for the “owners manual”, fumbling around in complexity wishing we could make things clearer and more direct. It doesn’t need to be this way. Angeles Arrien, a cross-cultural anthropologist, has spent a lifetime studying this subject and created four rules that can be found in many cultures world wide. I have found them invaluable, and know that whenever I am in a self-made pickle it is because I have violated one of them.

They are not complex. There is a reason for this. What Gandhi called, “means to ends consistency”. He advised that one's journey must match the destination. Thus, if you wanted a simple life, then a complicated process contradicts the goal. A simple life means you must use simple rules. But be warned. Simple does not mean easy. It just means clear, and without equivocation.

Here then are a set of instructions for getting out of the box, based on Arrien’s research, and different religious models.

Rule one: Show up!

Rule one means to be fully present each and every day, a task harder than it looks in our fast moving and multi-tasked world. The average adult spends 40% of their waking time worrying about things that will never happen and 35% worrying about the past and things that can’t be changed. This leaves only 25% of our internal thought time is in the present. It is being present in the present that creates depth and connection. A critical key to living at depth is to live at it's pace.

A few years ago I jumped out of a moving airplane...a perfectly good moving plane I might add, and I paid someone to help me do it! This experience was one of many from my younger years. Flying trapezes, race car driving, walking on fire, cliff jumping--these were all some of the many things I did to create an intense "buzz" in my life. This buzz helped me feel alive, and in some ways supported my love of learning.

But in my mid-forties something began to shift. I began to separate "intensity", the thrill and all the effort that came with it, from "depth". And it was a question of speed.

Intensity moves at a high rate of speed. Everything is fast. We think fast, act fast and make appropriate connections fast. No time to consider whether pulling your ripcord is a good idea. You pull and pray. When you walk across hot coals, your mind says only one thing, "Go, go, GO!"

It is conducive for survival but not for showing up.

If you want to show up more, you need to speed less. Think slow to medium. Think time in nature.

All great religious traditions know this. When you wanted to have an epiphany you walked into the wilderness. Moses, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammad, all went because their souls craved depth and it could only be found in nature at nature's rhythm. Native Americans go on vision quest, aborigine's on walk-about. The goal is the same. To slow down and then…show up…for our own lives. In the end showing up is about showing up for your own life. To consider, as the poet Mary Oliver asks, "Listen. Are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?"

Rule two: Pay attention to what has heart and meaning.

The Grand Canyon makes me weak in the knees. Whenever I am within a hundred miles of it, I try to visit.

Such was the case a few April’s ago. The day was unusually warm and misty, but at that time of the year there was still plenty of snow on the ground. This resulted in a feat of nature—fog. I couldn't see much past my nose. Directly below me, the canyon dropped away thousands of feet, but to my eye there was nothing but mist. Nothing.

I walked back and forth on the rim, staring, peering into the middle of a cloud. No view, why was I here? So I did what everyone does when there’s no view at the Grand Canyon. I headed for the gift shop.

I was poking around when in walks this guy. He is beside himself with anger and frustration. His veins popping out the side of his neck. Talking to no one in particular, but somewhat directing his attention to a small Navajo woman behind the counter, he starts right in.

“I can’t believe this", he begins yelling. "I’ve waited over forty Goddamn years to see the Grand Canyon. It’s been my dream for my entire Goddamn life. My dream! I finally get the time, take a bus trip here from Florida…and it’s fogged in. The Goddamn thing’s fogged in! I’ve been here for six fogged-in hours. The bus is leaving in fifteen minutes, and I haven’t seen a thing! Not one Goddamn thing!”

I felt his rage on my spine. Everyone is backing away except for the Navajo woman behind the counter, who is remarkably calm. She moved closer. She looked into his eyes with kindness, holding his gaze.

She moved forward and gently took his hand. “I understand your disappointment" she said. "Sometimes the Grand Canyon gets fogged in. But what I can’t understand is why you would devote only six hours of your life to your life’s dream.”

It was a shockingly accurate statement—and he immediately deflated. He left to get on his bus, in shock and softly crying. I had no idea what he was thinking, but clearly, her words went right to the marrow of his bones.

The gift shop stayed in complete silence. There was nothing left to say. We all knew why we were there.

This rule instructs us to stay attentive to that which is most meaningful in our lives. To remind ourselves of our deepest dreams and to devote enough time to those things that matter the most.

Rabbi Baruch Spinoza advised that meaning can be found by thinking about the following three questions for a season. Ask yourself, “What made me happy today?” “Where did I experience comfort, satisfaction and a deep peace today?” and “What or who inspired me today?” If we ask ourselves these three questions every day we will know without doubt that which our heart holds with deepest reverence.

Rule three: Speak the truth without blame or judgment.

It is a tough thing to say what’s so when it’s so, especially in our culture. We are so used to either inflating or denying our true feelings that many of us create unnecessary complexity through our communication patterns.

The theologian, Thomas Acquinas instructs, “A trustworthy person is angry at the right person, for the right reason, at the right time, at the right level in the right manner.” When we are vulnerable, open and willing to see beyond our judgments we move beyond the complexity of our own machinations into what is truly so.

So much of our own complexity occurs when we sit in judgment of others. Try this experiment. For one month, every time you have a judgment or feeling that is negative about yourself or another, just raise your hand. That’s it. Just raise it. Simply flag the feeling. The unspoken resistance is 8-10 times more powerful than the spoken one so this simple activity helps bring to awareness our judgmental nature while helping us laugh and release our critical patterns.

Finally, speaking the truth is about not holding back on saying what is important and loving. The death and dying therapist, Steven Levine says, “If you were going to die soon, and you only had one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?” As a practice try every day asking yourself the question, “What would be the more vulnerable and honest thing to say right now?” Then say it.

Rule four: Be open to outcome, not attached to outcome.

This final rule teaches us about de-attachment, which means we do our best in the effort and then we let go of whatever the outcome may be. To remember, what Alfred Tennyson said, “For us there is only the trying. The rest is none of our business.”

One of the most helpful models I know to teach us de-attachment is the morning prayer of writer Annie Lamott. “Whatever” is her daily offering to God. In the evening she closes every day with “Oh well!”

Being open to outcome has us looking at the possibility of a larger perspective. I don't know if there is a master plan, but I do know this. Unless you have the big picture—I mean the really big picture—than self-inflicted judgment, guilt, recrimination, faultfinding and attachment is probably a waste of time. And the deal is, none of us will never have the big picture. So don't curse the rungs of the ladder that got you to where you are. Because wherever you are on the ladder, unless you’re dead, one thing is for sure...it’s not the last rung.

Rwanda and Forgiveness

2007-12-18T13:55:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking a lot these days about Rwanda. Earlier this year, I visited for the first time with a remarkable client, Women for Women International. Their mission is to support women victims of war (www.womenforwomeninternational.org)

Thirteen years ago, during the genocide, close to one million people were killed in one hundred days. Five hundred thousand women were raped in one hundred days. Many of those raped were done so by men with AIDS to deliberately infect them. It was a well-planned and coordinated effort, despicable beyond imagination.

The country was devastated and all these people, the victims and the perpetrators must now live next to each other. The government in many cases has even forced communities who were torn apart to continue living together to make sure that reconciliation occurred. Imagine if your neighbor, who was a friend and whom you knew all your life, killed your husband in front of you with a machete, raped you and your daughter, maimed your son, but by some miracle left you living. And he still resided next door.

It was a massive horror, and the people of Rwanda are trying to reconcile with what courage they have. I met one woman to which the above scenario happened. After years of depression, she began to rebuild her life through my client. She now has a thriving business selling beer and wholesaling fruit, with a cell phone and everything. She is happy and productive, returning from the depths.

One day a few years ago, the man who committed this crime came and begged her for forgiveness. After quietly listening she told him she would, but then did a remarkable thing. She suggested the two of them together start the first reconciliation movement for their area. She is now a significant community leader with this man in Rwanda's post-genocide era--a saint in a country filled with saints.

My Western mind has a hard time grasping all of this. But one thing does seem clear. As a matter of tone, Rwanda feels more committed to forgiveness than they are to justice. The modern root of forgiveness means, "to give up the power to punish". Conversely justice is often so much about revenge. The Latin root of the word is justia, meaning “righteousness” or “vindication through assigning punishment”. This is not the same as forgiveness. Try this. Say, “I want justice”. Notice the energy of your statement and where your attention goes. Now say, “I want forgiveness.” Do they feel different?

I think part of Rwanda's success is the strong force of women in the country. By law 40% of the legislative body must be women (Rwanda is at 49% and lead the world. The United States conversely is 61st.) Five of their nine Supreme Court Justices are women. The bulk of their senators are women. The head of police is a woman. The head of economic development is a woman. The head of reconciliation is a woman. This is not an accident. While still in the shadow of the genocide, what they have done in a decade models positive force in an otherwise increasingly bleak world.

I visited a church that is a “living” memorial to the genocide. It is a place where ten thousand Tutsi, running for sanctuary packed themselves into the building. The Hutu came and in one killing spree macheted or shot everyone but two children who had managed to hide under the dead bodies. Thirty-five thousand victims are buried at this site, along with the original ten thousand who were killed. There is a twenty-foot high tunnel of skulls and skeletons that you walk through, and freshly found bodies awaiting burial. Death is everywhere. You see the tarps with decomposing corpses, stand next to them, breathe... and your mind goes to a place it has never been before.

This genocide, like all others, was committed by men. It is an affirmation of the need for women’s empowerment and a stark reminder of the work men must also do. In a world run by women this would never have happened. Of that I am convinced.

And yet Rwanda is a vibrant country, safe and incredibly clean. The capital Kigali is one of the cleanest cities I have ever seen. This is because one day every month every citizen picks-up the country, including the president. They have outlawed plastic bags and there is literally no trash on the streets. Flowers and gardens are everywhere. There are monuments to women, children and the genocide in every town. They are proud of what Rwanda has become and deeply dedicated to never going back. The president, Paul Kagame said, “We went as low as a society could go. Keeping our streets and bodies clean helps cleanse our souls.”

In February Rwanda will release more than 8000 prisoners convicted or awaiting trial in the 1994 genocide. Many of these are capital crimes. Rwandan authorities have held several similar prisoner releases since 2003, when President Kagame ordered them as part of an effort to decongest Rwanda's crowded prisons and promote reconciliation.

Rwanda has also abolished the death penalty.

I am left wondering how Rwandans can do this? I think it is because at the heart of this bold plan is a national desire for forgiveness. It is a lesson to us all, and a reminder that forgiving others is only part of the challenge. By it's very nature, forgiveness is a reciprocation.

Many of us are more willing to forgive than to be forgiven.

Stepping Back From Polarization

2007-12-18T12:04:00.001-08:00

I live in New Hampshire, and right now we are in the middle of "shopping season". With a few weeks to go till the primary, it's a wild ride. I have watched more than my fair share of political commentary and presidential candidates, and one thing I have observed is that everyone talks about how polarized we are, but very few seem to know how to act differently.

Here is a clue.

In matters of substantial difference, don't question people's intentions, question their judgment. If your goal is to minimize the amount of polarization that exists in our culture, carefully watch your language. Questioning intention is often seen as an attack on integrity, and while you may feel passionately about your point of view, everyone feels that their intentions are good. No matter what.

Republicans and Democrats, liberals and conservatives, all have one thing in common...they believe that their way is the right way. Challenging why they feel the way they do is red meat to a dog. Questioning what was done instead, and the judgment behind an action, while not always welcome, will allow for honor to remain intact.

Tonight flip the channels between CNN, Fox and MSNBC. Notice how often a candidate's integrity is questioned. Then ask yourself, how often in my daily life do I do the same? Remember, polarization is less about position than it is about tone.

The Inevitability of Consensus

2007-12-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

A lot of my time in 2007 was engaged in managing a national dialogue on the death penalty. The goal was to create an agreed upon strategy, state-by-state and nation-wide, to abolish executions in the United States by 2025. It was a hard and difficult process, bringing together many varied points of view. The "movement" has a long history of difference, not in intention but in approach, and many big personalities as only rooms of lawyers, researchers, policy makers and grassroots organizers can provide. It was exciting, exhausting and ultimately successful.

Yesterday New Jersey became the first state to abolish the death penalty in thirty years. It has had me thinking a lot about what happened and why it worked. In the end, it came down to creating an environment where consensus felt inevitable, and this more than anything seemed essential to the process.

Creating an “inevitability of consensus” in any environment is a complex undertaking (the phrase was coined by my friend, Ricardo Baretto). Here then are a few things I learned along the way.

First, is to set the bigger context. A sense of inevitability can be created through the frequent restating of a purpose all can agree on. In this case, everyone wanted the death penalty abolished by 2025. How it would get abolished was a matter of deep discussion and argument, but this larger overarching vision was something everyone could unquestionably support. In moments of deep difference, someone would inevitably reference this broader goal, and an opening would be created that would allow movement of thinking and position.

Second is to establish urgency. Everyone in the room knew that certain environmental factors brought a sense of immediacy, i.e. political timing. “Why us?” and “Why now?” seemed obvious enough. By continually referring again and again to the opportunities at this point in time, people felt a need to come together even if individual agendas were sacrificed. We additionally had a process that was time-bound, and as a consequence it was referenced by the participants constantly, i.e. “When we get to the October meeting” or “When we finalize our strategy in October”. This created pressure on all the participants to “get it done” by October…with no opportunity to extend the deadline. We would either reach agreement or not, but all participants were clear that when it was over, it was over. As the months rolled on, all the time and effort of the group increased the pressure to create an agreed upon strategy. No one wanted to waste the effort.

Third is to seek the overlap between individual self-interest and the common good. If this diverse group only focused on the individual benefit each would have gained, they would have inevitably fractionalized. Participants would have eventually retreated into positions of personal benefit and away from consensus. On the other hand, if the group only sought the common good, the entire process would eventually have lost it's energy and momentum. Without individual's knowing their self-interest was served, the motivation to work through hard places of disagreement would disappear. The key was to continually reinforce those times where we knew the whole benefited, and many would benefit individually.

Fourth is to highlight individuals when they publicly shifted positions. We consistently looked for moments when an individual might say, for instance, “I’ve changed my mind” or “I agree with John”. This was very for important for a room filled with advocates and organizers, who strategize and argued for a living. You could almost feel a collective deep breath, as the group learned new forms of conversation through positive modeling. Looking for moments of "joining" and position change created an environment of trust--an essential prerequisite for consensus. When a majority in the room felt this, inevitability became more of a reality.

Finally, act "as if". That we (the facilitators) believed in the group’s ability to reach consensus cannot be overstated. This was observed by the frequent comment from many in the room, “Well, if you think we can do this then I guess we can!” As always happens, the meeting breaks were filled with anxious concern and questions of “Is this working?” We would always respond, “You’re right on track” and reaffirm our view that consensus was going to occur. Sometimes I'd even resort to saying, “trust the process”. Then like “The Little Engine That Could”, when the group moved from the possibility of consensus to it being a forgone conclusion, the steep climb of agreement gained momentum and thrust. As a result, when it happened, it happened fast.

In the end, consensus is a hard thing to achieve, even under the best of circumstances. But if you can make participants feel it is inevitable, then your job becomes an easier one. Inevitable consensus is essentially a way of thinking, created by conversational structures, optimistic belief and the consistent reinforcement of positive behavior.

Roots of Compassion

2007-09-04T07:12:00.000-07:00

I have just returned from leading what has been an annual event for me for the last thirty years. A ten day retreat on spirituality and community in the wilds of northern Canada called "The Temagami Experience". For three decades my partners and I have witnessed, through this work, many forms of human struggle and complexity. We have seen extraordinary acts of personal bravery, commitments to substantial change and the deepest kinds of human connection.

In all that time, there has been one over-arching lesson that I seem to sadly relearn every year. It is this. Once I know someone’s story I usually either deeply respect or even love them. What Temagami reminds me every year is that who we are is largely created from where we have been. A woman who grates another because she doesn't follow his logical thinking is suddenly seen differently because she confides she has a brain injury from an automobile accident. An elderly man who appears cold and indifferent reveals he lost three wives or lovers to cancer or sudden death within six years, and breaks down sobbing over the injustice of life. And a soft spoken woman who has trouble speaking above a whisper sadly tells the group about her life as a victim of childhood abuse.

While these are powerful stories, they are not extraordinary in their example. Thirty years has taught me that no matter who you are or where you come from, most of us are survivors of tragedy or trauma and members of what anthropologist Angeles Arrien calls, "the scar clan". It seems to be our ticket for admission to a full life.

Year after year, this pattern of conflicted strangers becoming important friends through the revelation of personal story leaves me wondering why this is so hard to remember in every new and difficult situation I face? I am learning that compassion (which means to "suffer together") is to bring an innate curiosity to every challenging encounter. To seek the "back story" of an other's behavior no matter who they are.

What separates the Dali Lama or Mother Teresa from the rest of us is not their psychic awareness. When they meet a stranger they have no more insight into their story than you or I. They do not know the story. They just assume there is one. I think they make a simple decision. That no matter who they may meet, a history of struggle and challenge exists. This not very complicated point of view then allows them to act accordingly, with the kind of love and acceptance that we "ordinary" humans take days, months or years of exploration and dialogue to create.

While it is true that our life story is not our life, it's just our story, it is also true that everyone seems to have one.

The Employee Rescue

2007-08-16T13:36:00.000-07:00

Getting someone to admit they have a behavioral problem is one of the most difficult of a manager's tasks. Many a night has been filled trying to figure out how to get the message through after a number of attempted and failed conversations.

The following is an approach that has been very successful. It is loosely based on an interview strategy used by the OSS to interview Nazi war criminals after World War II. Why use this model? Because getting people to admit ownership of a problem is a huge issue. And who historically refused to take culpability in any behavior or consequences of action more than the Nazi’s. Please note: I am not comparing your problem people with the WWII German government. But I am taking a very effective historical approach and applying it to a modern situation. As a strategy it was and is effective with all types of resistance.

The basic philosophy is to follow a protocol and ask questions. That is all. You do not threaten, lose your temper, apply pressure or preview consequences. In short, you never have to present the hard perspective if done right. The employee comes to his or her own conclusions through the asking of a few very specific and targeted inquiries.

The secret is to make sure you repeat the question until you get an answer you want, i.e. “I understand you feel it’s my issue to solve, but...” Do not get hooked. Instead be a broken record. Calm and resolute. It helps to think a bit beforehand about what the predictable resistances be to the “Rescue” questions might be. Because the questions are given to you, preparing yourself psychologically is the most important thing.

Thus beforehand consider what you want the outcome of the meeting to be? What do you need the outcome of the meeting to be? What will be the consequences if no change occurs? To the problem (or person)? To you? If no change occurs what are you prepared to do? This helps get you ready emotionally.

If you follow the below steps you improve your chances for a successful resolution.

First, describe the problem. Then begin the protocol. Do not move to another question until you have gotten an acceptable answer to the one you are asking. Follow the steps. Do not skip any. I have given you some choices, in case one feels better than another.

How do you think people feel when you behave like that? Or why do you think I’m concerned?
How would you feel if others treated you that way? Or what would you do if you were in my shoes?
What do you think this will do to your career here if this continues? Or what do you think the consequences of this continued situation will be?
How do you think I feel about this? Or why do you think I'm talking to you about this?
How could you behave differently so you don't have this effect?
How would you feel if we discussed this on a regular basis?
How often should we meet?
What can I do to help?

Always end positively with encouragement for change and the belief that a positive outcome is what you both want.

What Fuels Your Work?

2006-12-29T07:01:00.000-08:00

Recently I spent three days with the primatologist, environmentalist and peace activist, Jane Goodall. Jane is 72, and a passionate voice for her work, speaking on hope and the need for global action 260 days a year. The Jane Goodall Institute and Roots & Shoots (her youth empowerment organization) benefit directly from her personal mission. She has a schedule that would crush an ordinary human. In fact, after our visit, in which I essentially “shadowed” Jane, I was exhausted—and she’s got a good twenty years on me. When I asked how she managed to maintain her energy with such a demanding schedule she responded, “I become filled when I work.”

With a schedule that seems almost Herculean, Jane becomes energized when she talks about the earth—and this is what sustains her. She deeply believes that the planet is in crisis and the time for contribution and action is now. In our discussions of slowing down or building up, it is clear her sustainability comes from her desire for a greater good. By any standards, Jane is a busy woman.

I think there are two types of busy; a “busy” that comes from passion or one that comes from fear. When our time is filled with activities of passion, like a great date, time flies and we end our day excited and energized, no matter the pace. But when our time is spent in activities that at their root come from fear, it leaves us drained and weary. Where it gets problematic (and seductive) is in those efforts that seem urgent or important, and where the intentions are good, but honest exploration shows us that the deeper motivation is instead fear-based and rooted in some form of loss.

The basic question comes down to one of either a core belief in sufficiency and abundance or insufficiency and scarcity. If your passion comes from the former, your reservoir of energy will never run dry. But where the later comes into play (and sometimes the same tasks can have different faces), your tank will need refueling. It is that simple.

Watching Jane speak it is clear she becomes filled with abundance when she connects through others on her personal message. What keeps Jane filled is essentially her hope. Her hope is an island of strength upon which she builds her future.

I am reminded that the Greeks didn't write obituaries. They asked only one question, "Did he or she have passion?" In this seasonal time of reflection, ask yourself, “What passion will fuel me this coming year? How will I know?”

To read more about Jane’s work go to www.janegoodall.org and www.rootsandshoots.org

The Climb to God

2006-12-18T09:41:00.000-08:00

In this season of miracles, again I find myself asking the question, "Why do we fight over God?" I have no easy answers, but the best image I have of this seemingly endless struggle comes from the philosopher Jacob Needlemen.

In our search for God, he says, metaphorically we are all climbing the same mountain and trying to get to the same peak. The peak, of course, is our connection to the Divine. This mountain called God is so large that it extends at its base from the arctic all the way to South America. The people who start climbing in the arctic dress for their journey in heavy parkas and thick boots. Those in South America wear pith helmets and shorts. As each group approaches the midpoint the weather starts to change for both. Those from the north start taking clothes off, and those from the south start putting clothes on. Finally, when they each reach the top, they find themselves identically dressed.

Whether Jew, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu or Muslim, the tenants of love, forgiveness, compassion and divine connection are the same. This year, as you are wandering around the bottom of your mountain, remember all others climbing. Take a minute to consider ultimately how fruitless it is argue how to dress and instead seek the similarities of all journeys. Then with anticipation and hope look for your fellow travelers at the top.

Reshaping Our Future

2006-11-13T12:38:00.000-08:00

My years in elementary and junior high school were less than stellar. I actually flunked seventh grade, and am one of the few people I know who can say seventh grade was the worst two years of my life. But of all the teachers that had left their painful mark, by far and away my fifth grade teacher was the most traumatic. Her name was Miss Barr.

Built like a fire hydrant, with a helmet of black hair atop a mean and dour face, she was every fifth grade boy’s nightmare. My typical memory was of her verbally scolding and abusing me in front of the class. She'd repeat over and over what a loser I was and that I would never amount to anything--that I was basically worthless. For the next four years she was right, until my parents sent me off to a private school that I credit with saving my life.

Thus it was with shock and surprise that thirty years later I found myself sitting in a restaurant at a table in front of her. She looked exactly the same, down to the sensible shoes, except her hair helmet was now all white.

“Look”, I whispered to my wife, “It’s Miss Barr!”

It was as if the very mention of her name would summon the devil. My voice had the timber of an eleven year, understandable because I was immediately transported back to a scared fifth grader in my old elementary school. And now, sitting behind me, was the unforgiving arch nemesis of my childhood. I immediately started to construct a passionate monologue in my mind. I leaned over to my wife and said, “There’s an old Klingon expression, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold.’”

I was going to go over, look her in the face and say, “Miss Barr. You said I would never amount to anything. But I now have a Ph.D., a successful business and am making ten times what you make. You were wrong then, and I can only pray you have not done terrible damage to the many children who have crossed your path.” Oh, this was going to be good.

Just to be on the safe side, and more than a bit curious, I proceeded to eavesdrop on her conversation. Who knows, I thought. Maybe I misjudged her. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she is actually a sweet and lovely woman who I have miscast from the fragile perspective of an eleven year old.

What I heard confirmed I was instead right. Miss Barr spent the next fifteen minutes in some of the most vicious gossip-mongering I had ever witnessed. She was mean-spirited, vindictive and down-right nasty. OK I thought. My feelings are quite justified. This woman is a vampire. She’s going down and I’ve got the stake and hammer right here!

Disregarding the pleading eyes of my wife, I summoned my strength and decided to step into my revenge. This was my moment of truth. This was what I had waited thirty years for—vengeance was mine, sayeth the Lord. I strode over to her table, looked her calmly in the face and said, “Excuse me. Miss Barr?”

Without hesitation, she squinted, looked up at me and rasped, “David Baum!”

Dear God. The woman had super human powers too. Not one to be thrown off my game plan I decided to launch into my prepared speech. I took a deep breath and suddenly the most amazing thing happened. I had a shift of thinking. Instead of seeing her as a mean-spirited and vindictive autoctrat I saw a sad and troubled old woman, retired by now with only her gossip and memories to keep her warm.

I looked at Miss Barr and quietly responded, “I just wanted to say that I have turned out quite well. I have a doctorate, my own business and am in part who I am today because of you. I wanted you to know that.” I didn’t lie, but I did give only a humane portion of the truth. After all, I thought, what ultimate good would it have done?

Did Miss Barr soften? Did we have a moment that connected us in a new way? No…not really. She stiffened, looked me coldly in the eye and said, “I knew all you needed was a little prodding from your laziness” and then looked away. I had been dismissed.

But when I left the restaurant a few seconds later I felt ten feet tall. Somehow in my re-shaping of my history with Miss Barr I had given myself something that no amount of anger and retribution could provide. I had given myself respect. Whatever demons she had represented were now gone. I felt lighter.

I think the lesson is if we are willing to see past our memories to how things really are then we can shift at any time away from our past. It requires thinking differently about our history and then acting differently towards our future.

Our Culture of Apology

2006-11-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you but a phone call for help on any service or technical matter usually leaves me more frustrated than when I started the conversation. It seems that the typical service motto (and insert your favorite airline carrier, phone or computer company here) is, "We're not happy till you're not happy." Their lack of empathy and competency is sometimes staggering.

But of all the things that bother me, the worst is that business has become known for the meaningless apology. In a recent conversation with a large phone company, in which my PDA was yet again not working, the technical support representative said either, “I’m sorry” or “I apologize” twenty nine times in a thirty minute phone call. That’s almost an apology once a minute! To make matters worse, it was clear he didn’t really mean it, and that his apology was scripted and only intended to quell my frustration. I later learned this same phone company trains their people to say, “I’m sorry” for every expression of frustration because their focus group data suggests this is what customers want.

I think this is absolute nonsense. A meaningless apology is hollow at best and manipulative at worst, and at least for me generates the exact opposite response. I see it as nothing more than a pre-emptive strike. “Look”, I want to say. “When I am upset, I may not be a box of chocolates but I am not horribly, abusive either. I understand certain business realities. But when that fake apology comes my way, over and over, it does nothing but ignite my anger. It all feels so disingenuous.”

I think this is a good reminder to remember that meaningless apology, while a cliché in the world of service, does not have to become a part of your own behavior. A way of making sure it doesn’t is to include three things in every apology. First, say what you are sorry about—be specific and transparent. Second, say what you have learned from the issue or interaction and how you have been impacted. Third, be clear about what you are committed to doing differently next time. If you do these three things, your chances of staying out of apology mischief, i.e. using apology to manipulate others, will be greatly reduced.

At the end of the above phone call, I told the technical support rep how many times he had apologized during our conversation. What did he say in response? You guessed it.

Words Matter

2006-11-09T07:58:00.000-08:00

The AARP is a huge organization. With over 37 million members and one of the most envied and prolific membership machines in recent memory they are a force to be reckoned with as advocates for senior adults. The running joke is, if you want to catch Osama Bin Laden, wait till he turns fifty…because AARP will find him with a membership letter!

However, an organization of this size is not known for nimble change. Nancy LeaMond, group executive officer, told me the following story. Recently AARP put together a focus group video to use in developing their key messages . They had each of their top executives individually talk on camera about AARP's policy positions. Though the strategy had already been set, and the talking points established, Nancy learned something very interesting during the editing. Even though all the execs basically said the same thing, they weren’t using the same language! Different phrases and key words were used leaving a viewer with an impression that the message was confused and lacking in coherency.

“We found this out quite by accident”, she told me. “During the editing process for the video it became clear that we were saying very different things. And while we had all agreed on the framework for our strategy, the way our policy was communicated by different leaders was muddled. We learned that words matter. It’s not enough for your senior team needs to mean the same thing; they must say the same thing.”

Colleen Clark, head of HR at Eastern Mountain Sports, says “The conversation is the culture.” I couldn’t agree more.

During a significant organizational change bring your people together for one-on-one sessions in front of a video camera and ask them to tell you how they will talk about the change. Then sit back and watch. Is the language consistent? Are the same key words being used over and over? Is the phrasing not just aligned, but even identical?

Because at the end of the day, Nancy LeaMond is right. Words do matter.

Last Breath

2006-10-24T09:43:00.000-07:00

I just spent the weekend with a remarkable group of leaders all looking at the question of how do we create lives of life-long learning and purpose? It was during this meeting that I heard the following comment. “I want to live my life”, one participant said, “driven by the following question; ‘What will I do to the last breath?’”

This is a stunning notion. Because it doesn’t say, what will I do till I am no longer healthy, productive, valued, influential, or even conscious. It is a statement of what you will do no matter what, in good times or bad, all the way to the very end of your days.

I asked some people at the meeting what this meant to them, and the answers were quite inspiring. A seventy year old leader in his field said, “I want to be learning to the last breath.” A national policy maker said, “I want to be loving”. A university professor said, “I want to be having fun” and a philanthropist said, "I want to be curious.".

What strikes me is the simplicity of this phrase, its utter ability to get to the core. “Last breath” is more than a positive intention, more than a desire to live fully to a larger purpose. It is a vow, a commitment, to the last moments of one’s life, regardless of external circumstance. What was interesting was in all the responses, nobody said, “I will be…”, only “I want to be…” Whether this is just a language difference or denotes an unconscious awareness of the seriousness of the challenge, I am not sure. But I do think it is more powerful when framed in the affirmative.

This month, as the leaves turn and winter settles many of us into a slower rhythm, take some time and consider, “What will I do till the last breath?”

Finding Meaning

2006-07-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

The 17th century philosopher Baruch Spinoza was once asked, “How do you figure out what has meaning?” He thought about it for a moment and responded, “That’s a big question…I’ll get back to you in a year.” After one year of considering this weighty question, Spinoza returned to the man and replied, "You can track purpose and meaning by asking the following three questions for thirty days." He then offered this solution.

The first question one asks is, “What made me happy today?” It is important to note that Spinoza felt this was not a “who” question, as in who made you happy, but instead the goal is to focus on activities, task and work. This is because it is an illusion to believe that someone else can be responsible for our happiness, and that our inner joy is tied to another.

The second question is, “Where did I experience comfort, satisfaction and a deep peace today?” This is the place in our daily lives that feels effortless. It is one of perfect balance and smooth clarity. The anthropologist, Angeles Arrien refers to it as "where we neither strive nor hold back”. In this place, there is no pushing or minimizing, and the feeling is one of internal gliding, like a skater who effortlessly moves on smooth ice.

The final question is, “What or who inspired me today?” Spinoza reminds us that inspiration is a thread that leads us to both our inner creative source and the heart of what has personal meaning. It is where our human spirit is uplifted and transformed. And as the root of the word suggests, from Latin meaning, "the breath of God", our inspiration is connected to something larger than ourselves.

If you are feeling a little lost or rudderless, try this. Track these questions for one month in a journal. Take ten minutes at the end of every day to write what you have learned. You may be surprised by the results.

The Third Other

2006-07-19T13:33:00.000-07:00

The only thing harder to change than the way you think is to change the way someone else thinks. The recent explosion in the Middle East is just another example of how hard it is to shift points of view. Politics, religion, race, class and ethics are all places where we can get stuck in power struggles with others, and where movement is rarely made. In my experience there are basically two environments which will lead to a softening, expansion or change in one’s thinking.

The first is when an individual is engaged in conversation with people who are mostly like them but a little different. This like-affinity group is one that wields enormous power and influence. For example, if I am a deeply religious Christian I am more likely to shift a political point of view if it comes from conversation with other Christians in my church. Any parent with teenagers knows this. Our children's peers are critical points of influence in their lives…some would say the most critical.

The second thing that shifts thinking is when an individual is put into a totally different setting, one that rattles his or her sensibilities, and challenges one's frame of reference. This shaking up of one’s view allows rigidity of perspective to loosen and a new point of view to emerge. People who volunteer in organizations radically different than their personal experience (think soup kitchen) or travel to countries that bear no resemblance to home often report their “lives changed” through the expansion of the experience. As a general rule, the more intense the event, the greater the potential for thought change.

Years ago I knew someone who was an extraordinary example of this principle. As an adult in the middle of an unsatisfying life she came to realize her dissatisfactions were rooted in two significant "issues". The first was a deep phobia of death, a fear which even prevented her from attending her father’s funeral. More disturbing was an irrational antagonism towards Indians that was clearly racist. She realized that to change her life for the better, she would have to resolve these darker parts of her character.

So she embarked on a brave and radical solution. She quit her job and went to the one place where she knew she would be immersed in her “stuff”—Calcutta. She chose to spend one year volunteering at Mother Theresa’s Orphanage working with dying children. Every day, she immersed herself in the two issues which had kept her stuck.

Of course, it changed her life. She returned a different woman, both in outlook and in character. Today, she is a practicing Hindu with deep connections into the US Indian community. She has also become quite spiritual about death, and no longer holds irrational angst about it. “When you find yourself seeing dead bodies almost every day” she told me upon her return, “it awakens you to the natural rhythms of life and the inevitability of death.” It was a brave and powerful example of challenging one’s frame of reference.

While we can’t say with certainty what will change one’s thinking we can say what won’t. Arguing the fine points of difference, theology or political view simply don’t work. If you really want change, then find a common ground interest that doesn’t require movement on the difference. I call this common interest the "third other". Let’s face it, I will probably never feel the same as a traditional Catholic neighbor on abortion, but we both agree that our local environment is important and can work together in shared agreement. If successful there, who knows where it will take us.

It is in the success of this “third other” that the greatest potential for movement and hope occurs.

Unearthed

2006-06-23T11:52:00.000-07:00

In the town of Visoko, Bosnia-Herzegovina there has been a startling, recent discovery. An archeologist named Semir Osmanagic, thinks he has found pyramids! Not just one, but at least two. The largest is one third larger that the Great Pyramid of Giza. At first glance they look like mountains...green and covered...but take a minute and you notice they are perfectly formed pyramid shapes. No pyramids are known in Europe, and there is no evidence any ancient civilization there ever attempted to build one.

But Osmanagic, a Bosnian archaeologist who now lives in Houston, has spent the last 15 years studying the pyramids of Latin America. He suspects there is one in his Balkan homeland. He learned about them in April 2005 from Senad Hodovic, director of a museum devoted to the history of Visoko. On a recent visit, Hodovic asked Osmanagic did he want to see "our pyramid shaped hill". When the pair climbed the hill, the sweeping view revealed a second, smaller pyramid-shaped hill. It reminded Osmanagic of pairs of pyramids he has seen in Latin America that together create a gateway into a valley.

Anomalies include some hard to dismiss items. For one, the four perfectly shaped slopes point exactly towards the four cardinal directions. Additionally, NASA satellite photography shows the pyramids give off a thermal signature consistent with man-made objects versus natural objects. And finally there are huge evenly thick blocks of cement-like material consistent with the material found in Egypt found just below the surface. These blocks are even "glued" together in an unknown manner that is the same as Giza.

This, of course, has set off a wave of optimism and hope in Bosnia. It is estimated up to 10,000 people a day come to visit this possibility. What is stunning is how something so big, so grand and so spectacular could have remained undiscovered all these years. Literally a town is built at its base, and people have been living in the shadow of this discovery for many generations. But maybe this discovery was revealed at just the right time. A Bosnian friend told me, "I think this is what we get as a country for all the horror we have faced. God gave us something very good because we also got something very bad. We are lucky it was discovered when it was. If revealed before or during the war they would certainly have been destroyed."

Time, of course, will tell. But for Bosnia and its people I hope they are real. The country needs some good news, some mystery, some symbol of great hope and possibility. I remain moved by this larger metaphor both for Bosnia and for my own life, and am left thinking about the great undiscovered realms that exist for us all…and that they may be right next to us, just below the surface.

Beauty

2006-06-20T13:47:00.000-07:00

I recently returned from a trip to Bosnia-Herzegovina where I witnessed the high value placed by Bosnian women on looking beautiful. For over four years during the war, Sarajevo was under siege and basics such as food, water and daily safety were in short supply. Bosnian women, in part, fought back by looking as fashionable as possible. One woman told me, "A Cosmopolitan Magazine was as valuable to us as a next meal". This meant that any bits of cloth were often used to try and create a fashion statement, and Bosnian women would take whatever they could find and try to turn it into something extraordinary.

Today, wandering the streets of Sarajevo, a visitor is passed by elegant woman in the latest fashions resembling Milan. You'd think these women shopped in the new trendy stores of Old Sarajevo, such as Ralph Lauren, but you'd be wrong. Most of them are quite poor, and consider an evening of wandering and window shopping to be the limit. There is very little buying going on--simply put there is no money for anything extravagant. So most evenings end in a smoky cafe discussing how current fashion might be reproduced from already existing clothing. Which raises an interesting question. If you can't buy, why spend so much time in the stores? Because they are, as one woman told me, "A theater of hope. A reminder of what once was and could be again, letting us know what a better life looks like."

Towards the end of the war, a very important moral victory was won by the besieged people of Sarajevo. The international clothing company, United Colors of Benetton, opened a store on a war scarred road within 200 yards of "sniper alley", the deadliest deadly sniper spot in the city. The store was barricaded in sand bags, and a "shopper" would have to risk their life just to make it to the front door. Regardless of the danger, it was a very popular destination, and many Bosnian women sprinted past sniper alley to head directly to see the latest fashion possibilities.

Today there are many shrapnel holes in the sidewalk, a ghastly reminder of hopefully how far the country has come. The poet Mary Oliver wrote, "Imagine grief as the out breath of beauty". When confronted with fear, the Bosnian response is to rise above the forces of destruction and instead embrace that which enhances human splendor. You can see it in the many tiny rose gardens that dot the region, and of course in the individual fashion statements.

Anisa Suceska, program manager in Bosnia for Women for Women International (http://www.womenforwomen.org/), an organization that empowers women in conflict and post-conflict countries, said it well. “We cannot change the facts” she stated. “We can only change our situation.” No matter what your situation, there is always an opening for beauty.

Ask yourself how can I bring beauty forward daily? How can I partner more effectively with my own soul’s call for this essential, life giving quality?

The Spirit of Resiliency

2006-03-23T14:44:00.000-08:00

For a moment I’d like you to consider a challenging change you’ve been through. Something that deeply tested your equilibrium. Maybe a divorce. Death. Job crisis. Health issue. Something. Call up the struggle, and its history.

In twenty years of studying and teaching on the subject of change there is one fundamental thing I've learned. Change is not a natural state but the natural state. It is the way of the universe to be in constant motion. We are either in expansion or contraction, living or dying, in love or in fear, breathing in or breathing out…but it is rarely one of stasis. Instead it is the nature of all things to be about physical and spiritual transformation. Stephen Hawkins, the great astrophysicist once said, “You can’t ask, ‘Do I want to change?’ You can only ask, ‘What does it mean to me?’ and ‘What am I going to do in response?’”

It is the response that defines who we are and the response that makes change either meaningful or not, an act of courage or not, a strengthening moment or not, and ultimately spiritual or not. My grandmother used to say, “Life is filled with difficulty, pain, heartache, struggle and change. If it wasn’t they wouldn’t have called it ‘life’. They would have given it some other name.”

Ultimately we are defined by our ability to respond to change with a quality essential for coping with the challenges of life—resiliency! In the wake of even the most horrifying experiences, research shows only a small percentage of adults become chronically troubled. More commonly, people rebound—or even eventually thrive. More than half of all people who have struggled with terrible trauma say it ultimately changed them for the better. Their refrain is something like, “I wish it hadn’t happened, but I’m a better person for it.”

We often think of resiliency as the ability to bounce back, but when it comes to its spiritual nature, resiliency is more than just recovery. Instead it’s about transformation. Thus instead of bouncing back when we are fully resilient we bounce forward. Those who weather adversity with resilience are living proof of one of the paradoxes of happiness: We need more than just pleasure to live the best possible life. Those we consider wise have been tempered by adversity, and their lives positively altered by painful and even traumatic events. Ultimately there is no living without resiliency.

The poet Bo Lazloff said, “One thing you can begin taking for granted is that every person you meet who seems to have courage, dignity, compassion and humility has experienced failure and weakness and shame.”

What then defines resiliency?

Jerry White is the founder of the Landmine Survivors Network (www.landminesurvivorsnetwork.org), a Nobel Prize winning organization dedicated to landmine eradication and victim support around the world. In 1984 while hiking in the Golan Heights, Jerry stepped on a landmine and blew off his right leg. Ten years later, he went on to found this impressive organization, as a response to what happened. Jerry has taught me that resiliency has five key steps. It is based on his experience with surviviors around the world. He is also one of the most resilient people I know.

Step one: Choose Life. In every crisis there is an inevitable choice point that eventually comes. This means willing yourself into the future and not the unchangeable past. I use the word” willing” because this is often very difficult in struggle or hardship. It is a threshold point, a decision, a commitment to life. But the truth is we choose life, every day, in every moment and every breath and--it is a choice. It is our defining moment and what propels us forward.

In every moment of adversity or crisis there is hidden within an invitation to live. It can come from a friend or family member, a song on the radio, a dream, God…but it is always there. And sometimes it’s best when it’s a strong kick in the ass.

At 42 years old, I had emergency open heart surgery. To say it tested my resilience would be a huge understatement. About two months after my surgery I was working out in cardiac rehab therapy next to Fran, a thin, seventy-eight-year-old wisp of air. Sweating under a barbell, I look over to discover that he is out-lifting me by forty pounds. I’m ready to shoot myself. Christine, my rehab therapist overhears me muttering and laughingly asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired of this!”

“Tired of what?”

“This! The exercise. The dieting. The struggle.”

“So you want a cup or a bowl?”

“Excuse me?”

“A cup or a bowl?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“For your crybaby soup! Now get back to work.”

Step Two: Face the Facts. Honestly address your suffering and loss, no matter how brutal or cruel. This means to see what is truly so, without inflation or denial. Resiliency does not mean we are always optimistic. It means we greet what comes to our gate with clarity and direct, unvarnished honesty. Admiral Jim Stockdale, who was held and tortured by the Vietcong for eight years during the Vietnam War was once asked, “Who didn’t make it out of the camps?”

“Oh”, he responded. “That’s easy. It was the optimists. They were the ones who said, ‘We were going to be out of the camp by Christmas. And then it was going to be Easter and then the Fourth of July and then it was Christmas again.’ You know. I think they all died of a broken heart.”

This second step means, once we have chosen the path of life we now have the hard work and sometimes painful honesty of wrestling with the truth of what is so. To remember as Helen Keller said, “When one door closes, another opens. But we often look so long and so regretfully at the closed door that we do not notice the one which has opened for us.”

These moments of truth are rarely epiphanies. Generally, we get only a whisper - a faint urge. That's it. That's the call. It's up to us to do the work of discovery, to connect it to an answer that is larger than the challenge or crisis we are in. “It’s not what we know that gets us in trouble”, Will Rodgers said. “It’s what we think we know that’s not true that causes our trouble.”

Step three: Move Forward Through Action. That is, make a personal action-oriented plan for self-directed recovery. This means being responsible for your own life, and then to behave accordingly. Do something. It is a great fallacy to believe we never have options of action. There is always some course through. Some choice of empowerment.

A few years ago, a fourteen-year-old boy shot and killed an innocent teenager to prove himself to his gang. At the trial, the victim’s mother sat impassively silent until the end, when the youth was convicted of the killing. After the verdict was announced, she slowly stood up, stared at him directly and said, “I’m going to kill you.” Then the youth was taken away to serve several years in a juvenile facility.

After the six months the mother of the slain child went to visit his killer. He had been living on the streets before the killing, and she was the only visitor he’d had. For a time they talked, and when she left she gave him some money for cigarettes. Then she started step by step to visit him more regularly, bringing food and small gifts.

Near the end of his three-year sentence she asked him what he would be doing when he got out. He was confused and very uncertain, so she offered to help set him up in a job at a friend’s company. Then she inquired about where he would live, and since he had no family to return to, she offered him temporary use of the spare room in her home.

For eight months he lived there, ate her food, and worked at the job. Then one evening she called him into the living room. She sat down opposite him and waited. Then she started, “Do you remember in the courtroom when I said I was going to kill you?” “I sure do,” he replied. “I’ll never forget that moment.”

“Well, I did,” she went on. “I did not want the boy who could kill my son for no reason to remain on earth. I wanted him to die. That’s why I started to visit you and bring you things. That’s why I got you a job and let you live in my house. That’s how I set about changing you. And that old boy, he’s gone, and that killer is gone. So now I want to ask you, since my son is gone, and the killer is gone, if you’ll stay here. I’ve got room, and I’d like to adopt you if you’ll let me.”

And she became the mother of her son’s killer, the mother he never had.

Sometimes inaction is the best course to take. Most of us think that waiting is a passive state. But inaction can be very active. When we wait in patience and trust something new is being born. That’s the secret—knowing a transformation is already occurring, already happening. Patience is not a passive activity; it involves nurturing the present for the potential of what might be possible.

Step four: Connect to Others. Especially those who can offer peer support and network you to helpful resources. Research tells us that a community of like minded souls, whether our church, friends and family or an understanding network, provide the wisdom and solace needed to endure and grow. Even at our most vulnerable, our most fearful, it is in our connection to others where our humanity emerges.

I remember on September 11th witnessing the one image that will forever stand above all others. More than the planes exploding into the towers, more than people running covered in ash, more than the buildings collapsing. It was watching people, holding hands and jumping to their deaths. What a stunning reminder to us all. That their final action was one of connection and love—it stands as the most powerful testament I know to the innate human desire for support. Connection with others, especially those who are further down the road which you now walk, is one of the greatest transformational healing forces. As Steven Levine, says; “If you were going to die soon, and you only had one phone call you could make, whom would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?”

The final step is to Give Back With Gratitude. It's important to note that when we feel grateful and act from that place, it is not to say that everything in our lives is necessarily great. It just means we are aware of our blessings. If you only think about your disappointments and unsatisfied wants, you will be prone to staying stuck in your struggle. If, however, you're fully aware of your disappointments but at the same time thankful for the good you have been given and for your chance to live, you will increase your chances for happiness. Finally, if all else fails, remember, that if you didn't get all the things you wanted, you can still be grateful for all the things you didn't want that you didn't get.

As a practice consider the times in your life in which you have been resilient. And consider which of the five steps you are naturally good at and which need additional development. The good news is, if you are alive, then you have at some point been resilient. And if you have done it once, you can do it again.

Signs

2006-03-13T13:18:00.000-08:00

I was in Maryland last weekend talking about resiliency. Three times during the course of the afternoon, on a windless day when nothing was moving but a slight breeze and the conversation, a HUGE tree came crashing down in the nearby woods. Trees were literally coming down around us. In a lifetime of small miracles, this was a day to remember. Imagine. When was the last time you heard a tree fall? Now think about it happening three times within a few hours! Admittedly I can be a bit slow to acknowledge signs but by the third tree even I was stunned by its immediacy (once while discussing whether a site in Minnesota was a good place for a meeting an eagle flew overhead, chased by a red tail hawk, under a rainbow...I kid you not...and I said, "Dear Lord...show me a sign, any sign!"). The trees fell every time someone in our group was talking about how they overcame a devastating personal event. One time it was a death, once cancer and the final crash with the revelation of the breakup of a long marriage. It was eerie.

This afternoon the weather is rainy and overcast and I am struggling with the news of a young thirteen year old friend who has been diagnosed with very aggressive cancer. The parents are models of faith, but still, it is a sad and wearying place. I might even say cruel.

But as I write this posting there is a small brown creeper on the maple outside my window. Tiny and delicate, it hugs the tree, spiraling up the craggy trunk, looking for any small insect hiding from the weather. His song is improbably sweet, a long and melodious tinkling that pierces the gray and infuses my ear with a sense of wonder and awe. The song of the creeper always makes me feel hopeful.

Give me a sign, any sign.

Why Partnerships Fail

2006-02-20T08:30:00.000-08:00

The gods curse us in two ways. They either don’t give us what we want or they give us what we want. --Greek Proverb

In the past few years, sad stories of gigantic merger failures have been told and retold in the media – AOL Time Warner, Corus, and Vodafone are all examples of gigantic blow-ups. But you go into any Wall Street bar on a Friday evening and you’ll be entertained by a litany of excruciating war stories about a multitude of smaller, less notorious disasters. Here are some startling numbers. Half of all mergers, acquisitions and strategic partnerships fail. That’s right. Half! Only 30% outperform the industry within five years, which leaves a whopping 70% of survivors who chronically under perform.

What went wrong? Post-mortems usually conclude that poor synergy, bad timing, incompatible cultures, off-strategy decision-making, hubris, and greed are all culprits. But I believe there is an additional way to look at a very complex problem that can be useful and simple. It is applicable to both profits and non-profits because it deals not with the logic of the arrangement but the emotions of the players.

In any strategic partnership it has been my experience that two dynamics are always brought by both parties to the table. These dynamics hover around almost all conversations. The first of these is hope, defined as the dreams of the relationship. Usually talked about exhaustively, with the intention of creating a positive and engaging vision, it is what people wish will happen. It is all about possibility. This usually takes the form of conversations on impact, market share or revenue. It’s often public and compelling, with optimistic tone setting such as “unprecedented”, “legacy” or “industry changing”. This is not a bad thing. People need positive stories and images that they can move towards. But it is not enough.

That is because there is a second dynamic that always comes into play, and it is rarely talked about, but none-the-less acted out. It is the dynamic of fear. And all fears typically can be placed into one of two categories, with everything else usually a subset. They are the fear of "loss of control" or "loss of identity".

Loss of control is when one of the parties fears the relationship will negatively impact their span of authority. Who decides what, what’s my level of influence or autonomy and what I can and cannot do are at the heart of this. Everything from brand protection to strategy differences defines the territory, but the issue usually comes back to “what do we control?”

On the other hand, “loss of identity” is the fear that I will get swallowed up by a larger partner. I fear I may not be the master of my own destiny, or that I will lose the essence of what makes me unique. This can play itself out in an emotional roller coaster of ups and downs. “It’s the chickens versus the foxes”, as one client once said “and the chickens always do what they can to get one up on the foxes.” References to the by-gone days of “we used to be a family around here”, or “the changing culture” are often a key indicator. Needless to say, because emotions don’t know logic, it can get ugly fast.

Fortunately, there’s an antidote. It is simple and direct, but not necessarily easy. It is this: in all matters of engagement, say what you mean and do what you say. “Saying what you mean” implies we honestly speak our internal concerns, neither holding back nor withdrawing from the fire of the conversation. This creates safety for the other party because they know there is no second guessing on intentions or actions. We relax, knowing things can be taken at face value.

“Doing what we say” means we are impeccable with our promises and commitments. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it. There is no such thing as too small in this category. One’s word, is one’s word, and that is all there is to it. The blank screen of a broken promise is a huge opportunity for projection of fear. This is remedied through consistency and predictability—the bedrock of trust.

What seems true is that every organization will usually have one big fear (loss of control or identity) and that during any partnership discussions susceptibilities to that fear run high. It is easy to trigger an unseen landmine if you’re not careful, and so the bigger the stakes, the more impeccable the need for high level behavior. The simple actions of 1) discussing your fears with the other party and 2) making sure that you then act accordingly to the other’s concerns can go a long way in creating reassurance and safety. And of course, say what you mean and do what you say.

Finally, it’s important to note that it is a great illusion to think that power or manipulation works well over others. At best, relationships based on these fear-based strategies are temporary and unsustainable, and typically emotionally debilitating and long-suffering.

Power of Gratitude

2006-01-10T13:24:00.000-08:00

Wilma Mankiller, former chief of the Cherokee Nation, wore a choker around her neck with the face of two wolves. The press once asked her what they stood for. "This one," she said, pointing to one face, "represents the voice of my self-sufficiency and self-esteem, what we call “the good, true and beautiful”. And this one represents the voice of self-diminishment and criticality, or what my people call “the monsters and demons”. They are always in battle and always in struggle with each other. My choker is a reminder that every day in my life this struggle goes on."

"Which one is winning?" a reporter asked.

Her response was quite profound: "The one I feed the most."

We choose our inner world based on the attention we give it. It seems so many people these days are chasing “happiness” and yet so few of us are actually there. In fact, a landmark study called “The World Values Survey”, looked at the fascinating and fundamental question, “Are you happy?” This study was a massive multi-year undertaking involving 65 societies in six continents representing 80 percent of the world’s population. Nigeria, one of the poorest countries on the planet was first. The others after that were Mexico, Venezuela and El Salvador. Not a G-8 in the bunch. The richest country in the world, the United States, ranked sixteenth!

I believe the best way to start to promote greater inner happiness is through gratitude. The word comes from the Latin root gratia, meaning “to lend grace” or “to be in God’s favor” and Mankiller reminds us that we can choose gratitude, in every day, moment and breath.

The problem is we are so used to feeding the negative wolf our knee-jerk response to any stressful situation is to focus on what is not working. As a consequence our heard turns to the shadow and away from the light, and we migrate away from the potential for joy and into pain.

But we can change our inner happiness if we follow a few gratitude steps.

First, begin by tracking the habits that diminish your gratefulness--your negativity and addiction to what is not working. To get a sense of this, try raising your hand for one day, every time you have a negative judgment or feeling about someone or something. Do this without fail (even for instance if reading this). Do you think you’ll be raising your hands once a day? Twice a day? Some of you will look like those little wooden ducks at the lake when a Noreaster’ comes rolling in you will be flapping so fast.

Second, start to raise your level of gratitude through awareness. Keep a simple journal every day that you write in about what you are grateful for. Research shows that this is one of the very best ways. Study after study shows journal writers are healthier, happier and more self-aware. The act of awareness shapes and informs us in ways that help define the paths of our lives. Or try what anthropologist Angeles Arrien calls “The Blessing Way”. Every day take a few minutes in silence and gratitude, and then set an intention that will take you forward through positive action.

Finally, share your internal awareness with the outer world. Said another way, don’t make your gratitude a secret. I love what Steven Levine, says; “If you were going to die soon, and you only had one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?”

This is not just New Age gibberish. It is in our self-interest to deepen our gratitude. Recent studies have shown that people who describe themselves as feeling grateful to others and something larger (you define) tend to have better health, more optimism, exercise more regularly, suffer less stress, and experience less clinical depression than the population as a whole—even when you factor in age and income. Grateful people tend to be less materialistic and suffer less anxiety about status or the accumulation of possessions. Thus, they are more likely to describe themselves as happy or satisfied, as reflected in the World Values Study.

Here’s the good part. You can start now in this exact moment—picking up your phone or going home and saying what needs to be said, to whom you need to say it. Why are you waiting?

Remember, as the great theologian Meister Eckhart compelled, “If the only prayer you ever said, was ‘Thank you”, that would be enough.”

Walking to the Middle

2006-01-04T08:22:00.000-08:00

Every New Year’s Eve and day for the last seven years I have helped re-create an almost exact reproduction of the Chartres Cathedral labyrinth on the floor of our New Hampshire town hall. The original in France, was built in a thirteenth century church and is made of different types of embedded and chiseled granite. Ours sits on a creaky wood floor in a 100 year old New England hall with a fifty foot white ceiling and is created from black floor tape (a temporary affair). Still, it is stunning—both in how it looks and the impact it has garnered over the years. Started initially as an idea to celebrate the Millennium, this 42-foot wide circle contains a path over 1/3 of a mile long has become a local tradition.

A labyrinth is different than a maze. The purpose of a maze is to confuse and obfuscate, with numerous dead ends, twists and turns. But a labyrinth has only one path in and out. Its purpose, through the simple act of placing one foot in front of the other, is to clarify and enlighten. It is a guided meditative walk, taking the visitor first to its center and then back out again. I suppose it is a universal metaphor for our life’s journey and can provide the walker with an opportunity for reflection and thought.

Anyone can walk for any reason. To walk a labyrinth does not demand a great amount of preparation or concentration to benefit from the experience. Just walking an intricate path can help focus the mind. To the visitor this means a quieting of our almost constant inner buzzing. This does not just happen. But walking a labyrinth can help to distinguish between what’s really important and what’s not. This is often easier to do when the whole body is moving.

The poet Rumi put it well when he wrote:

The mystery cannot by answered
by repeating the question,
nor can it be bought by going to amazing places.
Only until I have silenced the eyes
and stilled the heart.
Only then can I
begin to cross over from confusion.

Over the years I have seen amazing things within the taped floor of our hall. In a small town the confluence of people that attend can be quite “familiar”. One year, within the labyrinth at the same time, was my wife, my two step-kids, her ex-husband, his two other kids, his business partner, his business partner’s ex-wife and daughter and everyone’s therapist! And no one seemed to mind one bit. It was like watching one of those mechanical solar system devices, where each “planet” revolves at a different speed, yet all of them are still connected in some way. Each was attending for their own reasons, and each experience was different. But together, they represented the unseen linkage that is felt within a small community.

Sometimes the impact is stunning but difficult to fathom. For instance, almost every year a photographer comes to shoot the labyrinth. While we post signs requesting sensitivity to the “sacredness” of the event this does not dissuade her from shooting endless flash photos (until stopped) or wearing shoes to walk while everyone else has removed theirs as requested. You would look at this woman and assume she was insensitive, clueless or lost. Yet when she gets to the middle of the labyrinth, a place for many of contemplation and thought, she stands there for 30 minutes with tears streaming down her face, her eyes raised in splendor and profound emotion. Go figure. She blows my mind every time.

I think the great learning I take from the labyrinth is the annual reminder that each of us walks the same path in a different way. There’s the senior adult who dances the labyrinth or the young mother who walks with her one-year old baby, the infant continually waving. Or the bent and wrinkled woman with a walker, moving at an incredibly slow pace. There are those who race along, and those who move as slowly as a three-legged turtle. Some smile to each they pass, and some are inwardly focused, eyes down and reflective.

The labyrinth is the perfect metaphor for the notion that no matter how we get to the center, it will be the same for us all. The only choice we have in the journey is the thoughts we carry, the energy we bring, the focus of our attention and the balance we maintain between our outer speed and inner our reflection. After that, it’s all just some tape on a dusty floor.

All In

2005-12-23T14:54:00.000-08:00

Picture this. Your only brother's son is a senior in college. He is about to begin his final semester but emotionally is starting to crash and burn. Depressed, alienated and suicidal, his completion of a degree seems unlikely at best, his very life in jeopardy. He lives three hours away and you are a busy person with a full life. What would you do? Plan a visit? Call weekly? Maybe even pay for some therapy? All good and loving responses, but do they reflect your true and unconditional love? Are they actions that match the easy words we bandy about such as "family", "commitment" and "sacrifice".

This was the issue recently facing an old friend. And his response was nothing short of inspirational and stunning. Starting the first of the year, he is moving in with his nephew for the semester--a permanent roommate and support system to help his brother's son graduate from college.

He told me, "I figured if I'm there I can be a friend, uncle and guide. I can make sure he keeps at it, graduates and hopefully turns his life around. He's got a good chance if he gets his degree. If not, he'll regret it for the rest of his life. We'll get an apartment together, hang out and I'll do what needs to be done. Of course, I'll also keep him safe."

What enhances this story is that my friend is married, has a full life (job, friends, etc.) and is sixty-one years old. This will require some significant shifts on his part and the part of his wife. I think it is a remarkable response of love and compassion and one that leaves me questioning my own levels of sacrifice to what I truly value. My friend is also a very passionate poker player, and has a great love and talent for the game. This is especially true for the most popular of all poker games, "Texas Hold Em". On more than one occasion I have seen him go "all in", betting his entire stake on one hand. It seems to be in his nature to occasionally make a stand that literally puts his money where his mouth is. It is this nature, I believe, which allows him to take such a full-hearted commitment for his nephew's life.

I am reminded that the word "commitment" comes from Latin, committere, meaning "to keep safe" or "to be on a mission of safety". In this season of professed love and sacrifice, it is humbling to witness one who quietly and with great dignity has put it all on the line for what he believes. For my friend it's no big deal; words and actions need to be aligned.

I think it is a valuable exercise for us all at the start of this new year, to honestly ask ourselves, "For whom or what am I truly willing to go all in?"

We

2005-12-12T14:49:00.000-08:00

After the game the king and pawn go in the same box.
-Italian proverb

A frequent small exercise I have client groups engage in is to say, “Close your eyes. Now please point to true North.” When they open their eyes, typically fingers are going in every direction, including up! I couldn’t care less whether they actually know true North, but the metaphor is whether the individual fingers in the room are all pointing to the same place. This is the notion of we.

You hear the word a lot. “We are in this together”, “We need to be a better team”, “We must all get on board”, “We need to better communicate with each other”—these are but a sampling of comments from almost all most any business setting on any given day. But what does “we” really mean?

“We” is a feeling shared by people who work in any system. “We” means that every “I” understands the big picture and that when “I” act independently I am mindful of the larger organizational focus. In an accelerated and complex environment it is the best definition I know of for teamwork; that when I act, I may not seek the agreement or input of everyone I work with, but I keep the well-being of the whole in mind and behave accordingly.

The “whole” is defined as the composite of critical individual roles and jobs, the larger mission and vision, and the business environment in which one operates. It’s not everything, but it is everything that has meaning.

Moving an organization from “I” to “we” is no easy task. In a culture that relishes self-sufficiency and individualism, leaders who push for change are running against the tide of independence. What helps is to make sure you consistently provide everyone in the organization with the bigger picture of where you are, where you are going and why you are going there. John Kotter of Harvard University, a leading research voice on why change efforts fail, says you probably need to do it ten times more than you are actually practicing. Think about it. Whatever you are doing communication wise, do it at least five times more to be even remotely safe.

This can have a huge positive impact. Because the more everyone understands the bigger picture, the more connected, engaged and responsible everyone will be to the whole. This helps to meet the larger goals while better leveraging all talent.

Peter Drucker, the great management theorist wisely wrote, “No organization can depend on genius; the supply is always scarce and unreliable. It is the test of an organization to make ordinary human beings perform better than they seem capable of, to bring out whatever strength there is in its members, and to use each one’s strength to help all the others perform. The purpose of an organization is to enable common people to do uncommon things.”

Karma and Grace

2005-12-01T11:20:00.000-08:00

We walk in two worlds.

The first is the world of karma, a Sanskrit word meaning “cause and effect”. All great religious traditions at their core level teach this concept. “What you reap is what you shall sow” is an example of this belief—that one’s actions are at the heart of the consequences of one’s life. Aesop said it well, “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”

The second world is that of grace. Grace comes from the Latin root word gratia, and means “to receive unearned favor from God”. We don’t do anything for this—it is, as the word says, unearned. There is no need to do anything to receive grace; it is part of the operating system you get for being alive. At the heat of this concept is that regardless, we are forgiven.

In this holiday season I think the secret is to live one’s life with the intention of karma, but to know we are always in grace. To assume that all our actions will have impact, and thus to strive as best as we can to be as good as we can. To try to live as an example to others, and to act as if in every movement our actions, responding to the laws of karma, will shape our future.

But at the same time, to imagine we live in a larger grace, and no matter what, it is OK. To trust there is nothing to prove, and to relax into a deeper knowing, that regardless our lives have meaning and favor from something larger than ourselves—and we don’t have to do anything for it. That you were wanted into existence, and that “wanting” brings with it a sense of perfection, no matter what.

Karma begs the question, “How do I live as if every action means something?” while grace asks, “How do I live as if every action is forgiven?” It is between these worlds that we can find our uniqueness and contribution and remember the middle ground in walking our lives.

Time and Enclosure

2005-11-15T08:44:00.000-08:00

The creative process is not all bells and whistles and light.
--Mathew Fox

“Time and enclosure"--this is the unofficial mission of the MacDowell Colony for the Arts. Founded in Peterborough, New Hampshire in 1907 it is the oldest artist colony in North America drawing 250 residents each year from the United States and abroad. The Colony is a place where artists can go, free of any expectation or obligation, to create and to do their work. It's website, www.macdowellcolony.org notes, "When it began, the Colony was an experiment for which there was no precedent." Almost 100 years later, more than 5,500 artists plus have graced it’s grounds and the impact has been stunning. Works in part or whole written at MacDowell include Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring, Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, and Leonard Bernstein’s Mass to name a few. Why do I tell you this? Because modern business has consistently moved away from creative thought and MacDowell with its rich history of innovative expression has lessons to teach that can be applied by any leader.

Artists at MacDowell (and most in general) know that to look for multiple answers, even when an apparent way through seems obvious. This is in contrast to the tendency today to seek only one answer. The polarization of American thinking has begun to influence our problem-solving strategies, and one has only to watch any of the major news talk shows to see a paucity of creativity. MacDowell artists time and again show us it is in the unexplored possibility that the greatest creative energy and breakthrough resides. In this regard, the continued asking of the questions are as important as any one answer.

MacDowell also responds to the business motto, “Time is money”, instead believing that the pressures of time and speed are usually not conducive for true creativity. If you want innovation, then it requires making sure space and quiet are available. This breathing room engages our creative energies, and makes us more open to possibility. It allows us to see more.

An interesting story is told about the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who was secretary to the sculptor, Auguste Rodin. At one point he temporarily lost his ability to write. For Rilke this was a disaster of monumental proportions. To Rodin, all it meant was that Rilke had stopped seeing. He suggested that the poet go to the Paris Zoo every day, sit quietly and look at one animal until he saw it. Seventy-two poems later, all about a panther, Rilke could say, as he later said of the painter Paul Cezanne, "Suddenly one has the right eyes.” MacDowell knows that it is from the time taken to disengage that we rejuvenate our creative abilities.

Additionally, nothing helps expansive thinking more than nature. MacDowell sits in rural New Hampshire, on hundreds of wooded acres. The resident artists, many of whom live in fast-paced cities, immerse themselves in the rhythms of this setting, which in turn reflect the larger rhythms of the natural world. These rhythms are not fast paced, but slow to medium, and as such can deepen creative thought and inspiration.

The Colony also knows that great innovation happens in environments in which there is no hierarchy. MacDowell encourages a culture of egalitarianism. Cheryl Young, Executive Director says, "Every artists feels they have an equal voice. At MacDowell emerging artists and master artists are treated the same." For example, an evening reading can be composed of a Pulitzer Prize winning author, a Hollywood screenwriter, an unknown poet and a painter's journal entries for a new concept piece. This is an essential part of the creative process because in a free-flowing artistic environment one never knows where the next great idea will come from. Lack of hierarchy emboldens the possibilities while minimizing the trappings of fame or ego.

Finally, MacDowell teaches us that innovative thought can be enhanced by balancing solo time with time in community. It is not one or the other that produces breakthrough but a combination of the two. At MacDowell, artists often spend their days in solitude, doing their work in individualized studios. However, most of the meals and evenings are a shared communal experience. This creates feedback and insight from a larger, interested community that often informs the next day’s work. I think this is a fascinating notion…that great creativity comes from a balance of individual and community time, and it is in the flow back and forth between solitude and community support that makes for the best innovative environment.

It was well said by the poet Rumi:

The mystery cannot by answered by repeating the question, nor can it be bought by going to amazing places. Only until I have silenced my eyes and stilled my heart. Only then can I cross over from my confusion.

Trust What You Already Know

2005-11-15T06:55:00.000-08:00

Years ago I had the adventure of a lifetime. I flew in a hot air balloon over the Irish countryside. It was a cool, misty morning as my pilot took me over endless farms and rolling green hills. We had been in the balloon about an hour, when my pilot said something you never want to hear while flying. “I think we’re lost”, he muttered somewhat embarressed.

What!

“No problem. We’ll just float down over that field, find ourselves a local and ask for a reference point.”

Slowly our balloon hovered down over a somewhat unimpressed farmer who was kicking rocks around on his property. “Excuse me”, my pilot shouted. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“What?” yelled back the old farmer.

“I said, can you tell me where we are?”

The farmer paused for a second, gave the question some serious consideration, and then indignantly exclaimed, “You can’t fool me. You’re up there in that little basket!”

Years later I still laugh over this blinding flash of the obvious (BFO).

In my work with individuals and organizations there is often a lot of planning and discussion around change. I often hear, “I am quite confused and don’t know what to do.” And while personal change or crisis creates confusion and difficulty, it is also true that slowing down our thinking helps reduce the volume of fear, allowing much needed clarity. You will have your own BFO moment.

The next time you are trying to decide a difficult question or make a challenging choice, spend a few minutes considering all that you gain from each choice. Then trust your instincts to guide you into action. Usually we know the answer, but are fearful of the consequences or the implications of action. This is not a time for “yes-butting”, but a time for honest and courageous self-exploration. A simple way to do this is to frame your decision as a “yes-no” choice and then flip a coin. The purpose of flipping a coin is not to make the decision, but once you see the result check in with how you feel about the result. This will immediately inform what you know to be already true.

Remember, courage is the ability to face your fear and still act on what you know is right. Ultimately it is the only path to sustained happiness.

The Benefits in Not Changing

2005-10-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

There's a joke my grandmother used to tell. "In the old country, we had a cousin who thought he was a chicken. He acted like a chicken in every way, clucking, crowing, scratching. We would have taken him to a psychiatrist to be cured . . . but we needed the eggs!"

Often when individuals refuse to change, the reason is that they derive benefits from not changing. Even if the benefit is small--like the comfort of facing a known situation rather than an unknown one--there is a value. If none existed, we'd change immediately!

Years ago as a graduate student, I had a client in counseling who weighed 390 pounds. John had been on every diet known to man--Pritikin, Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, Nutra Systems, OptiFast, Bahamian Diet--you name it, he'd tried it. On every diet, he would lose between thirty and fifty pounds, and then, with uncanny predictability, bounce back to his previous weight.

A part of every program was for John to receive counseling on the benefits of weight loss. He knew them all: health, longevity, self-esteem--he could list the benefits at the drop of a hat. What his counselors never explored was the benefits John derived from not changing his behavior--from weighing 390 pounds! But until we did so, he was doomed to stay on the perpetual weight loss roller-coaster.

What, you may be thinking, could possibly be the benefits in weighing 390 pounds? The answer was very interesting. First, there were the work expectations. They were low. While everyone else at his company was on overdrive, John was on cruise control. The typical comment from John’s supervisors and colleagues was, "John's got enough trouble in his life, he doesn't need any more." So the company colluded with John's poor work ethic by protecting him, and he was subtly rewarded at work for his weight problem.

The second benefit was John's sex life, or lack thereof. Whenever he was bold enough to pursue an attraction into an attempt at a relationship, he would inevitably get turned down. Then he would say to himself, "She's not rejecting me, she's rejecting my weight!" This comforting excuse for his romantic failure became a very powerful defense against John's intimacy fears.

Finally, came the kicker. One great universal truth in life is this: if you're not getting any respect in your job, and no love in your personal life, who is the one and only person you can turn to, no matter what? It's the same person the world over: your mother!

In John’s case, Mama was from Italy, stood five foot two, dressed in perpetual black (her husband had died eighteen years earlier and she was in mourning), and wore orthopedic shoes. As family custom dictated, John would visit Mama once a week, every Sunday. She would open her door, stare him in the eye, and say, "Gianni, you're looking thin!" Then she would feed him with three meat courses, two soups, four fish courses, three kinds of pasta, two desserts, and four kinds of bread. Would she cook enough for two? Of course not! She'd cook enough for twenty. And the leftovers? She'd send John home at the end of the day with two huge shopping bags filled with food. John would then spend the rest of the week literally filling himself up on all the love and personal support he was getting nowhere else in his life.

John and I spent days talking through these realities behind his weight problem. When he realized the benefits he was getting from his size, the pounds rolled off him like water. In two years, John got down to 185 pounds. He looked fabulous. The crowning moment came when he turned all his old suits over to a used clothing store for large men. As he was leaving the store, he passed someone of his former weight. It was, John said, "As if I was passing my former life." He never would have been able to change his food behavior had he not come to understand the complex dynamics of not changing.

Most change efforts in organizations are focused on the benefits to change. Rarely is any attention paid to the benefits individuals or organizations get from not changing. But if one does not change despite the clear benefits, the reason is obvious. At an underlying level, there are bigger benefits to not changing.

For the leader, this implies two actions. First, spend time working with key individuals to understand the full dynamics of the change effort. Don't shy away from the difficult question of the value in not changing. You may be afraid to ask about it because you think that raising the issue will reinforce the resistance. It's not true. Just because you don't ask doesn't mean your employees don't have strong feelings. The silence just prevents you from understanding the issues and reacting accordingly.

Second, you need to help your employees understand that not to change will be, in the long run, more painful than to change. Often the deepest fear is of job loss. Yet, in a sense, this is not a real issue. During most large-scale organizational changes, every employee has already lost his old job. The only question is: What will the new job look like? This must be answered honestly and directly.

I love what scientist Stephen Hawking says: "The one question you can never ask is, 'Do I want to change?' You can only ask, 'To what will I change and how will I do it?'" Said another way by Don Marquis, "Ours is a world where people don't know what they want and are willing to go through hell to get it."

From my book:

Lightning in a Bottle: Proven Lessons for Leading Change

Courage Under Fire

2005-09-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

There are certain lessons I sometimes need to re-learn. One big one is this. Once I know someones story it is almost impossible for me to not to hold them in the highest of regard. Such was recently the case.

I was running a leadership program in partnership with the University of Western Ontario. It is a long-term, first-class effort for one of their biggest clients. My job is to teach change theory. And bless their hearts, both the client and UWO allow me to do some very wild and unorthodox programming. In the section on leading with courage, I pull from my circus past. Metaphorically underscoring the leap of faith that is often times the mark of true leadership, I teach participants to eat fire!

It is out there, but the client loves it and it is very, very effective. I might also add that the risk is largely perceived rather than real. Imagine the event. Forty people, one by one, cheered on by their classmates, coming up to the front, lighting a torch and extinguishing it in their mouth. Most, when done are jumping in excitement. All are inspired. It is an unforgettable evening of power, motivation and shared risk taking.

About half way through the evening a woman walks to the front to take her turn. She is very nervous. What strikes me is that I simply don't recognize her. I have been working with the group all day, and yet I can't recall seeing this woman in my class. To me, she has been, until this moment, literally invisible. Also, she is shaking. I am thinking, "I hope she has the courage to go through with this."

She leans over and whispers, "I'm only going to put the flame in my mouth once." This instead of the three-four times that everyone else is doing and then extinguishing the flame by closing their lips around the lit torch. "I'm terrified", she adds, as if it is not evident.

"Don't worry", I try to reassure. "I will keep you totally safe". Then she says something which will forever change my definition of courage.

"When I was a child" she quietly murmurs, "I set myself on fire, including my hair. I don't allow fire of any kind in my home. No candles or gas stove. I have never even lit a match."

Dear lord. How could I have not seen this woman who was about to put the deepest of trust in me? This was an act of monumental proportions.

I instruct her to tell the group what she whispered to me. There are audible gasps from a few, respectful silence from the rest. She steadies herself, focuses on the flame with narrowed eyes and puts the torch in her mouth--slowly, calmly, with no hesitation. She does it cleanly and perfectly. Then she stuns us all and does it again!

The group erupts into wild, spontaneous applause and a standing ovation. The "invisible woman" in a few seconds has turned into the hero of the group. She is unforgettable to us all. Tearfully she returns to her seat, forever re-writing her life and the lives of all who witnessed this remarkable moment. Later she reports that afterwards she immediately called home, to a family in disbelief and joy. She has, in the most public and powerful of ways, put to rest a long and painful demon.

I am not sure what it is about the human condition that makes us leap to conclusions and justify our pre-conceived judgments. I just know that the next time someone appears invisible to me, I will remember this courageous woman and her act of heroism. I will pause, call up the look in her eyes when she fearlessly confronted her terror and try and learn more of the yet untold story.

Our Flaw in National Character

2005-09-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

I do not typically post political content. However, I have been so concerned by the leadership gap at all levels since Katrina, I felt moved to write the following.

Like many of you I have been horrified and overwhelmed by the tragedy of Katrina. So many people displaced and poorly treated, matched only by horrendous leadership at all levels. For the past weeks, I have been looking for two words from anyone in government, two words that may help in the national healing and more importantly prevent this from occurring again. Those two words are, "I'm sorry". I won't be holding my breath. Sadly, the spin-doctors have convinced our elected representatives that to admit fault is a sign of weakness, and the only way to handle a mistake is to escalate one's commitment to an already bad decision. "That's my story and I'm stickin' to it" has become the strategy for getting out of trouble, even when thousands of lives and billions of dollars have been lost. We live in an age of limited responsibility and "not playing the blame game" really means "not playing the accountability game". The buck that stopped here was long ago spent on Karl Rove.

This is a national epidemic and failure of our country's character. Ultimately, to say you are sorry takes deep courage. It is the right and just thing to do. It is a flaw of huge proportions not to apologize, especially when the errors in judgment have cost so much. As a parent I would be embarrassed if I raised my kids to exhibit the levels of arrogance and certainty I have recently seen in all levels of our government. But there is something even more insidious in this behavior. It prevents true learning and real change from occurring. As long as our leaders are unwilling to admit mistakes, then the ability to take life's events and translate them into transformation is impossible. If all we do is say "It wasn't me" or "I did nothing wrong", how can fundamental shifts occur. When our commitment to looking good is stronger than our commitment to honest self-reflection and learning, we stay stuck in the justification of our errors.

Learning only happens when an individual understands that there have been real consequences from mistakes of judgment or action. Without this awareness, no hope exists for future difference. Frankly I don't understand why our government has less of a moral backbone than the simple lessons we teach our children. In my experience, even the worst of mistakes can be forgiven if we are willing to do three things.

First, we must apologize, with sincerity and without self-justification. An apology that says, "I'm sorry, but if you hadn't done this, I wouldn't have done that," is no apology at all. What is needed is an expression of true remorse that conveys the impact of our decisions or actions. Second, we should talk about what we’ve learned from the experience. This helps put the situation in a learning context, and even in extreme circumstances, can help create connection and movement. Finally, and most critically, we need to say what we will do differently going forward. During times of national disaster, politics as usual does nothing more than polarize us as a nation into finger pointing and deflected accountability. Were I one of the thousands of Gulf residents displaced, my life destroyed, I would want local, state and federal leaders whose highest commitment was to action and not to politcal spin and saving face.

A favorite saying goes, “Good experience comes from good judgment. And good judgment comes from bad experience.” This only occurs when one admits error. “I am sorry. I made a mistake”, is the first true step to any substantive learning and even healing.

The Disconnection of Metaphor

2005-09-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

Mark Nepo, in his lovely book, The Exquisite Risk, writes that the Native American view is held to keep it's people connected to the directness of life.

"One way it does this" Nepo compels, "is to say, We do not believe in metaphor. For metaphor blocks our being touched directly by the many faces of the Great Spirit. As Westerner's, we say the wind is like God's voice. But the Native American says, the wind is God's voice. We say water is like the earth's blood. But the Native American says, the water is the earth's blood. "

This a fascinating point of view.

Metaphor, while a useful device for trying to get a handle on our experiences, can in fact be a subtle process of disconnection from our life and dreams. Every time we say, "I felt like..." or "I experienced God like..." we create a barrier between our own experience and the way it is being integrated. The word itself comes from the Greek word, metaphora, and means "to transfer". The problem is, that as in the child's game "Whisper Down the Lane", this transfer is rarely clean and without loss of meaning. While a useful tool for communication, metaphor dissuades the direct path in.

The advice is simple. Try tracking for one month your use of metaphor. If you are prone to saying, "I felt like..." take the word "like" out and be more direct. See if your use of metaphor is really intended to soften the power of your message and comes from a place of insufficiency or discomfort.

At a larger level, try and see the world in a non-metaphorical way. Watch a sunset, stand at the ocean or listen to the wind. Describe what you see, in relationship to God, but do so without metaphor. Then track what is different. Rather than being like a reed in the wind, moving to a larger grace, you will be that reed, and the grace you feel may take you to a deeper place.

The Braided Path of Learning

2005-09-04T06:46:00.000-07:00

In learning there are two paths that take us to transformation. Both can move us into our preferred futures and each are essential for learning and growth. These two paths are intertwined, and when in balance make our lives easier and more fluid. When braided together these paths become critical allies for personal movement and change. But when out of balance they can hinder our inner development and cause either misery or numbness. Both are ways to process information and seek clarity. And both are essential for making movement in life's struggles. Like dawn and dusk, evenness between these two must be sought to make our journey an effective one. The task is to walk the "both-and" of this learning relationship and to remember (as my grandmother used to say when asked the secret to life), "Everything in moderation."

The first path to learning is called "In and Thru".

"In and Thru" means fully involving ourselves in the experience we are currently in. "In and Thru" is all about being fully present in the moment, and is the path of emotional integrity and the heart. In this way of learning our attention is on "being". That is, we are being whatever we are experiencing, feeling it fully and using our fullness to take us through to a new level of transformation. Like a butterfly struggling to free itself from a cocoon, "In and Thru" is all about calling our creativity and resources forward in the moment, and using everything we have to engage in a new way of being in the present. It is less about understanding and more about our "being" taking us to a different place.

Think of a time when you were so fully in the moment, that the experience itself was transformative. Illness, crisis or love can be such a time--all examples of "In and Thru".

There are questions we can ask to move us along this path. They are:

What am I feeling right now?
Given my feelings, what is the braver, more intimate thing to say or do?"

"In and Thru" resides in the emotional realm, and the present moment is all that matters. This mind set is embodied by the Zen expression, "When chopping wood, chop wood. When washing dishes, wash dishes. There is nothing else."

The goal on this path is to so fully feel what you are experiencing that you are taken in and thru to the other side of learning. Breakthrough is created by the full embodiment of whatever you are currently in. And the way through is to feel the moment and continue to deepen and open to it's gifts. What you feel, you feel deeply, what you experience is full tilt. You do not hold back, but go for it. As Patrick O'Neil says, "Be bold or go home."

However, a life of only "In and Thru" is rarely happy or productive. To fully reside in the emotional moment, without the discernment that comes from experience and understanding, can be one of both misery and indulgence. Without a process of distance this path is a life destined to be lived without either meaning or movement, and like a floored car in neutral, your engine will race but not really go anywhere.

What's required for movement is the integration of the second path, called "Up and Out". This is the way of understanding and detachment, the route of stepping away from our experience to ask, "What does this mean to me at this time?" It is the path that utilizes the mind, and instead of about being is conversely about becoming. Rather than focus on the present, it is about implications, learnings and the future.

"Up and Out" uses the skill of equanimity, defined as the ability to meet any disturbance that comes our way without creating additional internal disturbance. We do not get emotionally involved in the process, but instead take the cool eye of a surgeon and act from clarity and experience.

Questions that can move along this path are:

What am I learning from this experience?
What are the implications of this moment for my life moving forward?

An exclusive "Up and Out" path, however, is not without cost. When out of balance it leads one to numbness and emotional stunting. Brilliant surgeons are not always loving spouses or parents. A dispassionate doctor is one thing...a dispassionate lover another.

The secret is to know that each of us has a predisposition to one form over the other. Some of us take the path of emotion and heart, others the path of detachment and the mind. There is not one better than the other. Both must be used to be truly effective. A quick clue for success is to try and bring balance to your learning style. If you are one who tends to move into emotional indulgence then try bringing the question "What am I learning from this?" continuously forward. If you are prone to denial, then ask, "How can I express my feelings more deeply at this time?"

Robert Frost wrote, "We dance around the circle and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows." Move to the middle in your change and braid your learning path.

The Field

2005-07-17T18:32:00.000-07:00

Here is a favorite joke.

A synagogue decides to start a rowing team, and after 14 races, not only doesn't win, but places last in every, single race. They decide to send a representative to Harvard to watch their team and see what they can learn. Upon his return the team asks, "Did you see anything that can help us?"

"A lot", he says. "First off, they've got eight guys rowing and one guy screaming!"

This is a funny but increasingly depressing metaphor reflecting our inability to talk with one another. The poet Rumi wrote, "Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a field. I will meet you there." The question, of course, in this time of separation and anxiety is how do we make our way to the field of agreement that Rumi spoke so eloquently about? Lately this "field" has felt a world away...separated by differences of religion, politics, rhetoric and violence.

A clue rests in the struggles we have in an unusual arena; the manner in which we frequently discuss the nature of God. In most religions there typically exists three different and clearly defined branches of thought (and here I am being quite broad). First you have a branch of "fundamentalists", which loosely we can define as those who take their dogma and scripture literally. To their opposite pole every religion has "mystics", who profess to have a direct relationship with God and sacrifice literalism for internal experience. Finally there is the rest of what's left over, i.e. your garden variety middle of the roaders.

Sadly, many religious leaders tend to be keepers of the faith, i.e. traditionalists and even fundamentally oriented. Thus, (as many religious councils have encountered), if you put them together in a room a reversion to differences of dogma usually occurs. They often struggle to find the common ground in their view of the Divine and/or the right way to live. Imagine a conversation between an Evangelical minister, a fundamentalist mullah and an Orthodox Rabbi. Though they basically represent different branches off the same religious tree it's not hard to create a picture of argument and attempted persuasion. Now put a different group together in the same room. This time bring together representatives of the mystical branches. Around your table sit Sufis, mystical Christians and Hassids. Within minutes of their discussion (as I have witnessed numerous times) shouts of "Brother! Sister! We are all the same! What's the big deal?"

What then can be learned from this difference?

In my own life I have found that in religious discussion whenever I ask the question, "What is your definition of God?" I am taken to a place of divergence and a fundamentalist energy. But when I ask the question, "What is your experience of God?" what emerges is often common ground and a more "mystical" connection. For example, I cannot imagine someone more different in my point of view than Jerry Falwell, but the later question of "experience of God" would likely draw the same joint conclusions..."Joy", "Love", "Compassion".

This is a great lesson in the seeking of Rumi's field. For if we move to the experience rather than a concept we are more likely to find the overlaps we so desperately need in this time of great divide. The next time, regardless of content, you find yourself concerned about a conversation, start with an exploration of your shared emotional experience. You may be surprised where it takes you.

Look for the View Behind You

2005-07-02T02:38:00.000-07:00

Photographer Lisa Robinson once said, "When you take a photograph, turn around and look directly behind you...look for that which you didn't see."

I love this, for it teaches us to examine the possibilities we never allow--those contrary considerations from our supposed "answers". Among the Lakota peoples there is a tradition that a minimum of SEVEN creative solutions is always offered to any problem. Seven! How do we start to build that kind of creative capacity when we are continuously taught from a young age that there is only one right answer?

I think the secret is to do what Lisa advises. As a practice, try the following. For one month, every time you are moved by a view or something you see, turn on your heels 180 degrees and look behind you. See what else you can find, what beauty or surprise awaits. What is true is that every sunrise illuminates something that sits to your back. Simply put, it is your job to take a few extra moments to find it.

Take this practice into your problem solving. When coming up with solutions ask, "What is the opposite of what I think I should do?" Give it real weight and consideration. Sometimes the best creative solution is to do nothing. For many leaders, addicted to knee-jerk, "time is money" thinking, the 180 degree response of "no action" is often times the best, unseen consideration.

Among seven solutions, "to do nothing" is always an option.

Say "Yes" Rather Than "No"

2005-07-02T01:33:00.000-07:00

Recently I spent some time with an old friend, playwright and actor, Arlene Hutton ("Last Train to Nibroc" among others). It was a rich conversation about the creative process and what artists have to teach us about dealing with change more effectively. Here is what she said.

"In improvisation, the key is to say 'yes' rather than 'no'. When we say 'yes' we open the door to possibility and creativity. I was doing an improvisation exercise called "The Yes Game" where no matter what is said to you, you must respond, 'Yes, and...' The goal is to follow the thread and see where the conversation goes. I started the game. "

"Time to leave work", I began.

My partner said, "Yes, and it's getting late."

I responded, "Yes, and I must be getting home."

And he said, "Yes, and so must I."

Then I paused and said, "Yes, and I love you."

And he responded, "Yes, and you're married!"

Hmmm, I thought. Good one. Where does Arlene go from here? This was an interesting and tense moment. How could she resolve it without getting stuck or using cliche? But in theater, unlike in life, it is the moments of tension that are highly sought--where breakthrough often occurs.

Arlene continued our conversation. "When stuck in improve, the skill is to look for that which is right below your nose, the obvious." So I said, "Yes, and you have blue eyes."

And he said, "Yes, and so do you."

And I concluded by saying, "Yes, and let's Xerox them!" and we ended the scene creatively "copying" our eyes as gifts to the other--taking away a remembrance of our love but not acting upon it."

This is a great lesson in what to do when all else fails. Improvisation teaches us to start with that which sits right below our nose. Take an action, make a statement, try something--because any obvious action will often reveal the undiscovered jewel. The key is that you must stay with what is true, real, and honest. "...you have blue eyes" is all of those, and it took the actors to a new and creative solution, resolving the tension of possible infidelity. Delusion rarely works to create breakthrough.

The next time you are stuck, or in a place of uncreative tension, ask yourself, "What is the obvious that I am missing?" Once found consider, "How then do I take action on that which sits right below my nose?" When we do, we shift the landscape, revealing previously undiscovered solutions.

Unlived Dreams

2005-07-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

The dreams of our life are a precious commodity, and we pay a huge price if they stay unlived or in our fantasies. Such was the case I witnessed once at the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon is extraordinary and a sight I wish for everyone. It is so large that I struggle every time I am there to comprehend it. Whenever I am within a hundred miles of the Canyon, I try to visit and it was on such a trip that the following occurred. It’s April. The day was unusually warm and misty, but there’s plenty of snow on the ground and as a result I found myself walking through dense fog. It was so thick I couldn't see fifteen feet in front of me and though the canyon immediately dropped away thousands of feet, there was nothing but a gray cloud. I walked back and forth on the rim, staring, peering into the middle of the fog. No view, no real reason to be at the Canyon, because let's face it the Canyon is all about the view. So after a fruitless hour I do what everyone does when there’s no view at the Grand Canyon. I head straight for the gift shop!

I am poking around when in walks this guy. He is beside himself with anger and frustration. His veins are popping out the side of his neck and his thick shirt collar seems to be emitting steam. Talking to no one in particular, but directing his attention to a small Navaho woman behind the counter, he starts right in.

I can’t believe this," he screams. "I’ve waited over forty Goddamn years to see the Grand Canyon. It’s been my dream for my entire Goddamn life. My dream! I finally get the time, take a bus trip here from Florida and it’s fogged in. The Goddamn thing’s fogged in! I’ve been here for six Goddamned fogged-in hours. The bus is leaving in fifteen minutes, and I haven’t seen a thing! Not one Goddamn thing!"

I can feel his rage on my spine. He is clearly a crazy man. Everyone is backing away--except for the very calm Navaho woman who stands behind the counter. Almost counter-intuitively, she moves closer. She looks into his eyes with such kindness and with this kindness holds his gaze. Then she leans forward and gently takes his hand.

"I can understand your disappointment", she quietly says. "Because sometimes the Grand Canyon gets fogged in. But what I can’t understand is why you would devote only six hours of your life to your life’s dream?"

He is stunned and immediately deflates. After a very long minute of silence he looks away and quietly leaves to get on his bus. There is no response from him other than this--he is crying. I have no idea what he is thinking but it has left it's mark.

His powerful lesson is one for all of us--one we often choose not to ask. We must remember to continually query of ourselves in real and honest ways:

1. How do I manifest my dreams in the world? How does that show itself?
2. Where do I abandon my dreams? What is the price that I pay?

Of course, just asking is not enough; words that are not turned into action “bring the pest”, as William Blake once said. In the final analysis, ultimately our dreams don't care if we are happy—our dreams only care that they are lived.

Happiness in a Begging Bowl

2005-06-13T06:15:00.000-07:00

Last year I was in a Shiva temple in southern India. Coming down a long set of incense laden stairs I came across the poorest human I had ever seen (and that is saying something in India). He was somewhere between sixty and eighty--hard to tell given his condition—and wearing a filthy red loin cloth which barely covered his emaciated body. He was also a leper and so had parts of his hands, feet and face missing. His only possession was a dirty wooden begging bowl. I struggled to hold my gaze on his matted hair, yellow eyes and dirt covered face. I was filled with pity for this poor human being.

He looked at me for a few seconds with piercing eyes, and quietly asked, "Are you happy?"

Rather than give a perfunctory response, something called in me to be as honest as possible. Maybe it was the incense, maybe the prayers or the place but I looked him directly in the eyes, paused and honestly said, "Yes. Today I am very happy."

He then smiled though a mostly toothless mouth and blissfully beamed, "Me too!"

This stands out as the single most remarkable moment of my time in India and this man a profound teacher. I dropped a handful of rupees into his bowl and we parted knowing I had gotten the better deal in the interaction.

Here’s something to consider. The United States is the richest, most powerful country on earth, but only 17th on a national happiness scale--Nigeria being number one. We have become so focused on attainment rather than joy that our happiness has suffered as a result. A small clue can be found in the writings of Rabbi Zelig Pliskin; “When you personally are happy, it doesn't make any difference what others have. The way to counteract envy is to increase your own level of joy. By mastering joy, you become free from envy.” In Buddhism, "empathetic joy", the capacity to feel happiness at someone else's success is one of the highest forms of spiritual attainment.

This beggar knew joy. It radiated from him and touched me as I walked by. Today sitting back home in my comforts, worried about little problems that in retrospect will of course seem paltry next week, I am again called to wonder how such a man could be happy? His lack of everything valued by the west did not prevent him from feeling a bliss that many would envy.

I think it is a lesson for us all at this time to consider:

1. What is the foundation of my own happiness?
2. How much of my joy is based on “stuff”, i.e. things, position, money, etc.
3. Is it working for me?
4. What patterns of addiction keep me connected to this short-lived emotion?

If every day we ask the question, “Are you happy?” where would the answer take us?

Intensity and Depth

2005-05-31T18:30:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I jumped out of a moving airplane...a perfectly good moving plane I might add, and I paid someone to help me do it! Sky diving is an intense experience. Standing on the wing at 10, 000 feet, and realizing that there was no way I could climb back in, that was a moment. This experience is one of many from my younger years. Flying trapezes, race car driving, walking on fire, cliff jumping, these are all some of the many things I have done to create an intense "buzz" in my life. This buzz helped me feel alive, and in some ways supported my love of learning. Each moment was filled afterwards with both an adrenaline rush and the desire to help me understand more. I even seemed to reflect this in my personal life. My father died in my arms at 16, I had a very dramatic divorce from my first marriage, and I even had open-heart surgery at 42. I am not saying I caused all these events, but it is curious that there remained a pattern of intensity to create personal change. When shifts came they occurred through thunder storms rather than evening showers. Little came easily.

But in my mid-forties something began to shift. I began to separate "intensity", the thrill and all the effort that came with it, from "depth". And it was a question of speed.

Intensity moves at a high rate of speed. Everything is fast. We think fast, act fast and make appropriate connections fast. No time to consider whether pulling your rip cord is a good idea. You pull and pray. When you walk across hot coals, your mind says only one thing, "Go, go, GO!" It is conducive for survival but not always for either sustained change or deeper learning.

Depth on the other hand is usually more in line with the rhythms of nature, which are slow to medium. All great religious traditions know this. When you wanted to have an epiphany you walked into the wilderness--Moses, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, all went because their souls craved depth and it could only be found in nature at nature's rhythm. Native peoples go on vision quest, aborigine's on walk-about. The goal in all of these examples is the same. For the rhythms of nature to take us deeper into our own original character and reveal another layer.

In nature there is a pacing that just is. It is not dependent on deadlines or crises, it is just what nature does. When we slow down, especially in nature, we experience this "is-ness" which helps us get to our own "is-ness".

Questions that can help:

Where does my desire for intensity create movement in my life?
Where does it repeat an unhealthy pattern?
Do I spend more time seeking intensity or depth? What is the price paid?

Finally, if what you want is greater depth than the solution is clear. Try spending more time in nature just observing the slower rhythms you experience. Let the "is-ness" of what you see, be who you are.

Authentic Living

2005-05-31T18:08:00.000-07:00

The poet Mary Oliver says, "Listen. Are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?" Many of us want to lead an authentic life, but struggle to know what that means. Without authenticity we are living somebody else’s dream and thinking it's our own--the ultimate tragedy. It calls on us to seek what has heart and meaning in our daily existence. Mary Oliver again serves us well by asking, "And what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

It is no easy task for "authenticity" is a tough thing to nail. It is often a confusing and moving target.

Some guidance can be found, however, in the etymological root of the word. "Authentic" comes from the Greek, "autos" meaning "self" and "hentes" meaning both "being" and "doing". Here lies the clue. To be authentic means to spend time both in contemplation and understanding while also putting your learning into action. This means that finding an authentic life requires asking two very different sets of questions.

First we must ask the fundamental "why". Why am I feeling the way I do? Why do I yearn for more? Why do I behave this way? These take us to a deeper knowing of our motivations and history. They are the being part of the definition and generally past focused. The doing part is answered by asking "how". How do I move forward? How do I hold myself accountable? How do I make my dreams a reality? This contemplation tends to be future oriented.

Authenticity occurs when both the roots of our character are understood and we're willing to put that knowledge into living. Because the knowledge of being without action is "naval gazing". And doing without understanding usually repeats the pattern and rarely leads to change. The key is neither to push nor resist, but instead find the balance between these two.

This path will take us to a deeper, more authentic level. The middle ground allows us to both be and do, moving us forward into a more meaningful life. Finally, remember that authentic living requires the falling away of all that no longer suit us. In this battle, remember the words of Rumi who advises:

Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live,
destroy your reputation.
Be notorious.

I have tried prudent planning
long enough.
From now on,
I’ll be quite mad.

Wrapping Paper

2005-05-25T07:58:00.000-07:00

When I was thirteen, my parents sent me to Israel for one of those “all good Jewish boys visit to the Holy Land” kind of trips. Sitting on a hot and smelly bus, crammed in with the rest of my jaded peers, I was shuttled from ancient Jewish monument to important historical sight. Fresh from my bar mitzvah, Judaism was little more than a painful obligation.

Religion represented nothing other than a failed promise. I had been told Judaism was this rich, moist chocolate cake – gooey and delicious. It was supposedly filled with mystery and depth. My traditional education, of course, made sure I never got that meal. Instead I was delivered a freeze-dried version of my faith, devoid of any real taste or delight. My religious training was boring, rote and sadly disconnected from anything meaningful. The only passion I ever heard were the monthly lessons on the holocaust. It was “us versus them”. I assumed this was my religion.

It was disappointing and consistent with the experience of my other Jewish friends. I was disconnected from meaning and barren of any understanding of my place in the world of mystery. But in that dry cake there was a small hope. At thirteen I was longing. And though I didn’t know what that meant, I did know I wanted more.

In the most unexpected way, this desire was fully met on one spectacular afternoon.

We were at the Wailing Wall on a Friday. Not knowing what to do, I just closed my eyes and listened to the “dahvening” of the devout--the traditional way Jews pray by rocking back and forth and quietly singing. The intensity of the prayers started to carry me. The sound began to deepen, getting richer and fuller. I felt it taking me further and further into a sense of peace and inner joy. It was one I had never felt before in all my young years. My inner world of doubt was being quickly calmed. My longing recognizing a forgotten need.

Just when the moment seemed to reach a crest, I heard to my right over the praying Jews, the sound of church bells. Then almost immediately I heard to my left, one of the daily calls to prayer from a minaret. A voice came into my head...real and not my own.

"You see," it said. "It is all the same".

I had an immediate image of the gift of our birth--a gold bar representing our connection with God. The bars are often differently wrapped--Christmas, Hanukah, Ramadan, Kwanza--but the gift is always the same.

As a thirteen-year-old boy I never forgot this. It was the most important moment of my “religious” upbringing because a question simply emerged that has served me all these years. Who fights over wrapping paper?

Space

2005-05-24T05:08:00.000-07:00

We are mostly space. "Mostly" as in 99.999% space. The chair you are sitting in and the computer you are looking at may seem like hard-edged objects against your skin, but at the molecular level the boundaries are non-existent. All matter is permeable and ever changing with no atomic difference between animate and inanimate. The energy between our atoms is what gives us the sense of existence. But make no mistake about it, like the Seinfeld episode, we're, "...a show about nothing." And our atoms are in constant flow.

When you get up from a chair you absorb a part of it within you. Some of its atoms become your atoms. The essence of its “chairness” becomes part of your essence; it’s being your being. Conversely the chair takes on some of your molecular character. You leave a part of yourself within its fabric.

Atomically, we are in a constant process of sharing atoms with everything that is and was on this planet. We literally come from the stars, and are made of the same atomic material. Every time we breathe we exhale 10 to the 20th power of atomic material. This is a huge, almost inconceiveable number. At a molecular level, there is no difference between past and present. Because matter cannot be created or destroyed, as a result every human being has over a million atoms that were once in the body of Christ, Buddha or even Saddam Hussein. There is no control over this fact, just as there is no control over our need for air. It just is.

The great wisdom traditions knew this of course.

In the Lakota tradition there is a word; metacweasin. It means "All my relations", an acknowledgement of our connection to all living things. But at a deeper mystical level the teaching is that we are more than all related. It is that we are all the same. Separations of you, me, them, inner, outer, rock there, tree here, are a falsehood. This is the same philosophy when Buddhists state, "We are all one". Or Rumi, the great mystical Sufi poet who advises:

Instead of being bound up with everyone,
be everyone.
When you become that many, you're nothing.
Empty.

This awareness is the path of nothingness, the way into the greater space rather than the much smaller physical matter. This awarenss can only come through slowing down. Speed ennuciates difference, time and slowness accentuate commonality. A "time is money" approach usually serves to create false distinctions and uncreative solutions. Instead try to equally value the spaces in your life as much as the points of action. This can be challenging in a world where thoughts and actions are given more credence. But it is possible.

The next time someone asks you what you are doing say, "Nothing". You are moving closer to the unseen connection of "All my relations".

Aligning Words and Actions

2005-05-21T05:14:00.000-07:00

Martin Buber, the great Jewish theologian said, "There are three principles in a man's being and life. The principle of thought, the principle of speech, and the principle of action. The origin of all conflict between me and my fellow men is that I do not say what I mean and I don't do what I say."

With this as background, consider the following story about Ghandi.

It seems, once upon a time, a woman brought her son to see Gandhi. She said, “Please Mahatma. My son eats sugar morning, noon and night. He is obsessed. I know he will listen to you. He respects you so much. Tell him to stop.” Gandhi responded, “Come back in four days.” When they returned, Gandhi spoke to the boy, flatly intoning, “Stop eating sugar. It’s bad for you.” The mother incredulous asked, “Why did you have us wait four days?” “Because madam. Four days ago I was still eating sugar!”

The story is clear. No matter what the change it is ultimately one of personal responsibility. I cannot ask others to be different until I myself am different. I cannot ask behaviors of others until I have willingly demanded the same of myself.

Springtime is always a wonderful time of the year to align ourselves. We can start by asking ourselves the following questions:

1. What in my nature am I unwilling to look at?
2. What benefits do I get from not changing this part of me?
3. What actions must I take to align my thoughts, words and behaviors?

Reflection on these questions can help us say what we mean and do what we say.

The Nature of Miracles

2005-05-13T11:27:00.000-07:00

I remember my first miracle. I was about seven at the time. My uncle, who was a dental student, had made me a small gold initial ring, cast from wax, and measured to my finger. It was his way of practicing working with wax casting and gold. Because I loved my uncle and this was a very special gift, the ring became my most prize possession. I was always cleaning it, playing with it, inspecting its beauty. I truly loved the ring.

One day, while in my backyard, I looked down to discover the ring had somehow slipped from my finger. I was horrified. Somewhere in a field of about an acre lay my small gold jewelry. I looked, and looked and looked…all to no avail. Desperate and filled with a child’s naiveté, I had one sudden, urgent thought. I thought, “If I could believe hard enough then I could find my ring.” So I picked up a beach ball and started to spin. I kept thinking, “If I pray hard enough, and throw this ball then when it lands I will find my ring.” I spun and prayed and spun and prayed…twirling until I was dizzy and exhausted. Then in one huge burst of energy I threw the ball as high as I could. It bounced off a tree, rolled up onto a hill, paused, gathered steam and rolled back down into the middle of the field. There it stopped in a place I had previously combed a number of times.

When I stooped down to pick up my ball, lying underneath was my ring. Amazing. At seven it all seemed so normal and uncomplicated. As if the message was, “Of course. This is how it works.” Sadly as I have gotten older and wiser, the world has become more complicated and less magical. But in this experiential seed, sits my first real lesson in miracles.

It is this.

There are two types of miracles. The first are those where we cannot explain what has happened. The sudden health of a dying man, the extra-human strength of a trapped mother and child, the appearance of a spirit or deity to provide guidance or hope. For me these are quite rare, if they have, in fact, ever occurred at all.

But there is a more frequent kind of miracle that I often don’t account for or appreciate. Yet in my new thinking they are still miracles and need to be appreciated and acknowledged for just that. They are defined not for “what” occurs but “when” they occur that deserves gratitude and awareness. The rent check that arrives just in time, the unplanned visit to a doctor that discovers hidden but still treatable cancer, the phone call from a long lost friend in a time of personal crisis—these are all examples of a more frequent form of miracle.

As with the appearance of my ring underneath the beach ball, many could argue that these are just a coincidence. But I wish to postulate that coincidence may have a different role to play other than just a random act of chance. I am beginning to believe that the primary role of coincidence is to be a sophisticated and complex language form. A form used by spirit to communicate its support and infinite love.

This language is primarily a response; a response to a larger need, expressed by us to the mystery. Sometimes we start the conversation with grief, sometimes with fear, sometimes with a deep sense of loss, sometimes with unknown awareness and sometimes, as when I was a child, through the language of belief. And it is belief, pure and unfettered, that I believe opens the door to manifesting miracles of timing and synchronicity. Belief, without reservation, is the initial knock on the door that allows spirit to open to a greater form of support and guidance. Belief is our language form, our words, our structure for communication. Coincidence, the when of a miracle, is the spoken response that comes from God.

Field of Allurement

2005-05-13T06:23:00.000-07:00

My friend Maja is a horse-whisperer. She wouldn’t call herself that. She says, “I do horsemanship”. But that’s what it is. Horse-whispering or horse-connecting or horse-something-or-other. I knew this the first time I saw her running her Arabian in a ring. Off lead she was standing in the middle of an indoor enclosure with this beautiful horse charging around and around. She’d occasionally make a few gestures with her hand, as if pushing it away on some invisible rope, but mostly she just stood while it raced in huge circles.

Another rider came up next to me. “Watch carefully” she said. “This is the magic.”
And then it happened. Maja took four steps backward and the horse literally “drew” itself into her like a yoyo on a string. It came to a dead stop next to her nuzzling its face against my friends.

The other rider excitedly said, “Did you see that? That magic. Did you?” It was extraordinary.

Maja later explained.

“Horses are prey animals. And with prey animals, if you push them they will run and run. But when you stop, and withdraw, their tendency is to come close. This is because if a horse is attacked by, say a wolf, if they pull away when bitten their flesh will tear. But if the horse moves into the wolf all they get is a puncture wound. It’s a form of preservation that’s translated into behavior. Indians used to do that with buffalo. They’d drive a herd for three days and then retreat. And the buffalo would literally turn around and follow their hunters as if on a magnet.”

I’ve been thinking recently about what I need to stop chasing so that it will now chase me. Physics calls this "creating a field of allurement". Every atom has an energetic charge, and it's this charge that creates a sense of mass. Amazingly we are 99.999% space. So what makes us seem solid? The energy that "holds" our atoms together. Since all energy either has a positive or negative charge, i.e. attracts or repells, "creating a field of allurement" means to set the charge in a way that will bring what we want closer. We do this through our intentions.

The clue is in what Maja did. Don't over-try. Don't press. Just set in your mind what you want to happen, be specific and clear, step back and trustingly wait. Lao Tzu says, "You must let things go their own way. Trust is the softening of fear into awe."

Allow yourself to be found by that you so desperately seek.

Four Rooms of Change

2005-05-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

Recently I returned from two weeks in Bosnia, working with a wonderful organization called Women for Women International (www.womenforwomen.org).

I spent most of my time in the capital city of Sarajevo, which travelers once described as one of the most beautiful cities in Eastern Europe. After five years of siege and war, this is no longer true. Imagine a city about the size of Pittsburgh, ringed with tanks and artillery guns, constantly bombarded and fired upon. During the siege, there was minimal electricity, limited water and food, no heat, and the constant threat of death. On the street, you could be killed instantly by a sniper. In your home, a shell might explode and take you without notice. The attackers, the Serbians, did not extend special dispensation to the sick, old, young, or infirm. Snipers fired at anything that moved, even shooting into hospital windows and local schools. Of the 20,000 people who died in Sarajevo during the siege, 12,000 were children.

This war of incredible brutality ended just eight years ago. Yet in Sarajevo, after this atrocity, we find an extraordinary lesson of hope as the people of Bosnia begin to resurrect their lives. From their experience, we can gain insight into one of the most essential skills of our time, what creativity expert Robert Fritz (http://www.robertfritz.com/) originally coined as holding creative tension.

Holding creative tension refers to the ability to stay with the discomfort of the moment—the tension—rather than moving into premature action, emotional withdrawal, or a state of paralysis born from fear. When we can stay in the moment of discomfort, it is often where deep change occurs.

Management theorist Peter Senge (http://www.petersenge.com/) says, “Creative tension comes from seeing clearly where we want to be, our ‘vision,’ and telling the truth about where we are, our ‘current reality.’ The gap between the two generates a natural tension.” Thus, creative tension is a stretching condition that has the possibility of producing enormous momentum leading to change.

The key to using this momentum for a positive outcome is discerning the difference between where you (your current state) and where you ultimately want to be (your vision). This tension, between current state and vision, offers the possibility to resolve itself by making decisions that move us closer to what we want. In fact, it is not what the vision is, but what the vision does that is important, because the gap between vision and current reality can be used to generate the energy needed for change. It is an opportunity.

The problem is we’re not designed to act this way. Think of most animals on this planet, scraping out a day-to-day existence, and doing everything they can to avoid becoming something else’s meal. When confronted with danger, animals typically respond in one of three ways: fight, flight, or freeze. It is the best way to deal with the unpredictable, a product of millions of years of successful evolution. This strategy worked well thousands of years ago for our ancestors but—sadly—is not very effective in today’s complex and less immediately dangerous times, even in post-conflict Bosnia. This is because the root of this strategy is fear, and people who live in fear have a hard time waiting. What is required instead is a shift in thinking and behavior, a radical change in the way we deal with fear; instead of running, we need to think about increasing our ability to hold the moment—the creative tension.

One helpful frame for understanding creative tension comes from the Swedish psychologist Claes Janssen (http://www.claesjanssen.com/), who has created a model of change called “The Four Room Apartment.”

In this model, the process of transformation has four stages or “rooms.” The first room, “Contentment,” represents the status quo, normality—the place of on-going comfort. The present situation feels satisfying as it is, and in it, we experience a general sense of relaxation and effortless self-control. The room of contentment is like riding a bike on a flat, well-paved road—smooth and easy. In this room, our focus is based in the here and now with no need for self-reflection or significant change.

However, it is not in the nature of life to remain static. As Robert Fritz says, “When the situations you are in want to fall apart, no amount of trying to hold them together will work. Matters will get worse and worse. The more you try to hold on, the greater the force pulling it all apart.”

Often our first response when things start to fall apart is an intuitive one: we feel something is wrong, which produces discontentment, and our typical response is to think that everything will soon be okay—that is, back to “normal.” Welcome to the next room of the apartment, “Denial.”

In denial, we believe that everything will be fine if we just stay the course, keeping our focus on what has worked in the past. It’s a period of pseudo-adjustment with attention placed on defending old patterns or the status quo. The problem is, as historian Arnold Toynbee said, “Nothing fails like success.” If we rise to a certain level of response to meet the problem, we may succeed; however, since one situation is rarely identical to another, the old solution—or success—will probably not apply. Moreover, if the problem intensifies, and we employ the same level of solution that we used in the past, we are doomed to fail. When this happens, we run headlong into the cold wall of failure via the status quo, and find the third room of the apartment, “Confusion.”

In confusion, we feel helpless and out of sync. Nothing makes sense, no strategy seems to work, and no clear passage is apparent. Often we move into polarized thinking, making black and white decisions as a way to relieve feelings of confusion or lowered self-esteem. Confusion is also uncomfortable and tense, and unfortunately, no previous strategies will work. Here, in this discomfort, is where our “fight-flight-freeze” biology kicks in; we will do anything to relieve our fear and anxiety.

At this point, when every cell in our body is screaming for action, what we need is patience. This is particularly true for westerners, who have been trained to move when stressed. Hans Selye, the father of stress research, says, “Action relieves anxiety.” The problem is if we move too quickly, we often go right back into the room of denial, and reinvent the now-unsuccessful status quo. Instead, the key is to hang in with the tension, and focus on maintaining respectful attention while resisting preliminary conclusions. This is the moment for holding creative tension. For it is in the room of confusion that we generate the energy to transform to a new way and not just reinvent the old. If we can’t maintain the position of creative tension, then often we simply re-tread the existing solution; it might look slightly different in style, but it will rarely be so in substance. Re-treading is never real change, and so ultimately proves unsuccessful. This play-it-safe response is only a knee-jerk back to the familiar and known born from our inability to pause in discomfort and confusion.

One way to think about this is that the room of confusion is an important ally. Confusion is like a pressure cooker, building with each minute a type of energy needed for true change. This energetic fuel—and remember, it is rarely comfortable or pleasant—allows us to move into the fourth and final room, “Renewal” and transformation.

Often, we shy away from this process because there is a natural anxiety that arises as the creative tension takes form. This is where “holding” is important. As more than one therapist has noted, “Any task worth doing creates anxiety. The question is how that anxiety is channeled.” To get to this room requires more than patience, however. We can increase our tolerance for creative tension by remembering a few specific skills.

The first skill is the most obvious—deep trust. It is like sailing to an unknown shore through dark, obstacle-laden waters. During a tough journey our brain often screams for a return to the shore we know so well. In order, to keep moving, however, we need to trust that if we do keep moving, we will safely get to the other side. We need to hold the creative tension and believe a positive outcome is possible. Doing so means that we have at some level received a promise of possibility, that something else—something larger—is there in the future. We can wait because we trust in something we are moving toward—a promise. As Dutch theologian Henri Nouwen said, Waiting is “never a movement from something to nothing. It is always a movement from something to something more.”

The problem is, as noted anthropologist Angeles Arrien (http://www.angelesarrien.com/) advises, “The opposite of trust is control. Where we do not trust a situation, an individual, or our own abilities is where we will inevitably respond by trying to control it.” To avoid moving into a full-blown control pattern, especially when all our fight-flight-freeze responses are screaming, requires a deep sense of trust and ultimately faith—often in something larger than ourselves. We must believe that we and/or the problem will emerge to a new understanding and breakthrough if we just keep working the issue, holding steady in the discomfort of the moment, and trusting our own innate capacity for successful transition.

This is not easy. To trust that something will emerge, to give up control to a larger possibility or guidance is a very radical stance toward life. To believe that something larger is possible, far above our own images, hopes and fantasies, is a challenging way of thinking. If we cannot, however, manage our fears during this time then we will inevitably be a victim of our control patterns and return to the near, familiar, and ultimately unsatisfying shore.

In Sarajevo, the five daily calls to God from the mosques continued every day, regardless of the war surrounding the city. This was a daily signal to its citizenry never to give up hope, to keep faith in a greater good as the highest possibility. One old woman told me, “Every time I heard the call, it reminded me to keep going. Allah and my resourcefulness would get me through. If I trusted God I would get to the other side of this war.”

For most Bosnians I met, talking about the war was part of the healing process. Moreover, everywhere in Sarajevo, Bosnians are connected deeply to a tactile sense of memory and place. The war was not something one saw on television, but actually felt in every building riddled with bullet holes, and every sidewalk rough with shell marks. “This corner is where my cousin was killed by a sniper.” “This house is where my uncle was beaten to death.” “This park is where a shell exploded and maimed my friend.” The stories never end. Yet woven through their harrowing experiences, we find the second skill to holding creative tension—the vision of a compelling future.

“We have a saying in Sarajevo,” Seida Saric, director of Bosnia’s Women for Women International, told me. “Every person has a shell with their name on it. When the shells start to fall, you start to run. But you don’t know if you are running away from your shell—or toward it.”

This was living in creative tension at its worst. The Bosnians I met managed this daily crisis by holding to a larger view of life following the war. They prayed daily for the end of the conflict, and in their mind’s eye held the vision of a Bosnia free and in peace. This overarching picture helped many Bosnians struggle through some very difficult periods, and to let go of much of their national anger. It was not the current reality that provided them with hope, but the shared vision of future possibility. They didn’t just live in the present, but in the hopeful potential of the future.

The Bosnians’ focus on the future helped transform feelings of bitterness and hate. Hard as it is to fathom, there was very little sense of revenge among the Bosnians I met. Instead, I experienced a deep sadness, and a real desire to move on and transform to a renewed, peaceful country. There is much we can learn in the West about our attachments to vengeful feelings and polarized thinking. The Bosnian approach, instead, is to create an image worth moving toward, and to use that image as a shield against fear and retribution—a beacon of hope even in the most difficult of times.

The third skill is to move into curiosity rather than judgment. This is called “equanimity.” Patrick O’Neil (http://www.extraordinaryconversations.com/), a noted conflict and management expert, defines equanimity as “the ability to meet a disturbance that comes our way without creating another disturbance.” It’s the skill of being present and non-reactive to any issue that we encounter. Equanimity is created through inquisitiveness and the willingness to look again with fresh eyes. Rather than becoming reactive and fight-flight-freeze based, move instead into high curiosity and slow down. Ask useful questions: “What else can I discover about this issue I have not yet seen?” and “What have I overlooked or not yet considered that is possible?” Equanimity allows us to experience creative tension as a kind of research project, patiently waiting until the right solution comes along and an opening is created. Arrien teaches the phrase, “Isn’t that interesting?” as a way of moving into equanimity and observation rather than premature reaction. It is a useful reminder when in the midst of what she calls, “the formidable middle.”

In Sarajevo, there’s a street that residents called Sniper Ally. Tall buildings surround this fifteen-foot wide street, which also offers a direct line of sight into the hills beyond the city. During the war, because of the way this street is situated, snipers could sit in those hills and shoot at anyone crossing it. Sadly, because it was on a major thoroughfare, it could not be avoided by most people living in the area. The only sensible way to cross it was quickly, but the only way to live with it on a daily basis (when sudden death was possible in every crossing) was to stay in equanimity. Seida Saric told me, “You can’t freeze. You can’t live in fear. You just take a breath and walk. You do the best you can, but after that, you don’t worry about the snipers or you go crazy.”

Equanimity allows us to both allow things to go their own way, and at the same time continue toward a larger vision of what we want. On the one hand, we don’t try to hold on or control things; on the other, we set up a clear focus on structural tension and the appropriate actions to support our vision. Paradoxically, we are not controlling and controlling at the same time. Another way to describe it is that we are in control without the need to be controlling, creating change not by being rigid about outcome, nor by just sitting there hoping the results will show up.

This approach allows the holding of creative tension to be an active rather than passive experience. Most of us think that waiting is a passive state, born from hopelessness or inaction, but those who hold creative tension in equanimity do so very actively. They know that in this holding process something new is being born from that which they hold in curiosity. That’s the secret—the secret of knowing that there is a transformation already occurring, that it has already begun. This requires being fully present to the moment, in the knowledge that something is happening right where you are and you want to be present to it. Someone who holds creative tension with equanimity is present to the moment and believes this moment is the moment. Thus, holding creative tension is not a passive activity; it involves nurturing the present situation for the potential of what might be possible.

A fourth skill is to rely on our own deep resource of inner and outer beauty. One Bosnian woman, a world-class skier and grandmaster chess champion (she once played Bobby Fischer to a draw), told me that the way the women fought the war “was to dress up and put on make-up! . . . They had guns,” she told me, “but we had lipstick.” Even in the most horrific circumstances—while underpowered and overwhelmed—the women of Bosnia remembered their inner desire to rise above circumstance with beauty and imagination. This was a powerful ally for survival and later for societal change.

Today in the marketplaces of Sarajevo, for instance, you can find many vendors selling lamps, chess sets, and even candelabras made from shell casings—a testament to the Bosnian skill of taking the worst symbols of war and transforming them, with both intention and skill, into objects of beauty.

We can always rely on beauty and creativity to help us in the room of confusion where tension abounds. One key is to not to be reactive, but to look for new possibilities by showing and being our very best. If we can stay flexible to the alternatives, then openings to transformation usually present themselves. This is true, even in the worst of times. However, this also requires that we do our very best to stay in our full sufficiency. In the middle of chaos, the question ultimately becomes, “What is my core belief about myself? What will I stick to, no matter what?”

This is a very powerful place from which to hold creative tension. From the American Native tradition comes a story about Wilma Mankiller, a great contemporary native leader and former chief of the Cherokee Nation, who wore a choker around her neck with the heads of two wolves facing each other. A reporter once asked Mankiller what the two wolves stood for. “This one,” she said, pointing to one face, “represents the voice of good that is inside of me. And this one,” she said, pointing to the other, “represents the voice of evil. They are always in an internal battle.”

“Which one is winning?” asked the reporter.

“The one I feed the most.”

Arrien teaches us to ask the question every day, “Is my self-sufficiency stronger than my fear and self-doubt?” If we cannot answer “yes” to this most fundamental query, then the ability to find creative solutions and beauty is always compromised by our inner fears and outer circumstance. When this occurs, our flexibility disappears and is replaced by rigidity, timidity, and a tendency to revert to old, familiar, and inevitably unsuccessful strategies.

Finally, the Bosnian response to hardship was often a remarkable one—celebration. During the siege, some of the most popular places in Sarajevo were the local bars and dance halls where great nightly gatherings would occur. When I was in Bosnia, I heard this more than once: “We hated the war—but truthfully we miss the parties.” While the bombs were falling, and people were dying, Bosnians responded with an amazing capacity for festivity. They danced, sang, and held to each other as the last, great fortress against despair, choosing joy and celebration as the best defense of their beloved country.

In the middle of creative tension, remember to appreciate and cherish that which you do have, to soften your heart and stay grateful for that which is still possible. As an old Bosnian man told me outside a mosque, “If I can still breathe, then I can still hope.” To remember the wonderfully humorous statement, “If you didn't get all the things you wanted, you can still be grateful for all the things you didn't want that you didn't get.” This attitude will take you far.

It is almost inconceivable for most Westerners: we would risk our lives to attend a party? That we would run a gauntlet of shells and sniper fire to have a drink with some friends and listen to music? But in this craziness, and the inherent gratitude of life, sits the greatest sanity of the Bosnian people.

David Baum  Change Through Delight