Ordinary Life, Extraordinary Living

Who Were You in High School?

In doing research for a blog post (really!) I was looking at my high school yearbook. Like all great adventures, I didn't find what I was looking for, but I found something else that was just as valuable, if not more. 

I gained insight into who I was, over thirty years ago, and I found parts of me that I had forgotten about with age.

Let's face it.  At 18 years old, the die is largely cast.  Sure, you may have been known for things that only a teenager would do. Now that you are a mature adult, with a well-paying job and a mortgage, you wouldn't think of such behavior.  But deep down, the kernel is still there.

Reading what my peers and friends wrote in my yearbook, here's what I was known for:

• I was kind to others.  This is not so surprising, as I try to be kind as an adult as well.  I did, however, take this as commentary on how teenagers can be abusive to each other and lack sensitivity towards their peers.  I think the perception of my kindness was due to my unwillingness to partake in common teen behavior. 

• I was fun and funny, even goofy. This surprised me, as it's not how I think of myself today.  Yet I do remember taking risks as an adolescent in the name of fun. "Teepeeing" a teacher's house and throwing a shaving cream pie in a teacher's face as a prank both come to mind. Now, my moments of rolling on the floor are usually when I'm with my sister, while providing droll commentary on life.  Note to self:  Try to have more fun.  Don't be afraid to let my sense of humor rip, especially while blogging.  

• I was a good flute player. Not much revelation here.  I still play occasionally, but it doesn't hold the same creative satisfaction and milestone of achievement that it did as a teenager. Creativity gets expressed through other means, including blogging. Achievement is still important to me, but as I've gotten older, I'd like to think that I've gained a more balanced perspective.

No one talked about my ability to get things done, or being a logical thinker.  No one mentioned good listening skills or being a thoughtful writer. isn't it funny how who we think we are today isn't who we've always been? 

What people say about you at different phases of your life (think performance reviews) is a snapshot in time of who you are being at that stage of life.  Hopefully, over the years, you bring the best forward and evolve to integrate in life's lessons.  I like to think that now, I'm more reflective, compassionate, and intuitive than I was as an adolescent. I also want to make sure I bring out the more playful attitude that was part of those early years.

Several years ago, one of my high school friends sent a photo of me at 18 years old.  We had just graduated from high school. I made a copy of this photo and stuck the following words above it: "note to self:  remember to play today."

Who were you in high school and what parts have you forgotten that you want to bring forward? Do tell.

 

First snow of the year always makes for an interesting picture. Here's a photo of a crabapple tree in my front yard. It doesn't know whether it's fall or winter. It's both!

What Was I Thinking?

My friend and one-time writing coach,  Deb Cooperman, recently challenged me to blog about the half-written blog posts that I've let lay fallow, sometimes for over a year. To which I replied on Twitter, "The gauntlet has been thrown down!"  Photo by Sean MacEntee

So this is a blog post to stretch my creativity (how does one make a blog post about blog posts interesting and relevant?)  as well as a look back in time as to what was on my mind on different days, in different seasons. 

Here's what I'm noticing:

• I love reading books and have an urge to share the best parts on this blog. So I have unfinished blog posts about several books that I've read over the last year, with specific quotes that caught my eye.  Instead of waiting for me to finish these posts, go to my LinkedIn profile and take a look at my reading list.  There, I've done mini reviews of over a dozen books. 

• Political commentary has a short shelf life. Enough said.

• Some posts were meant to be unfinished, in that I can see my thoughts were not well-formed.  More distance, more research, or more creativity were needed. Photo by cambodia4kidsorg

• I have a half-written post about teaching my sons to drive this past summer. That one may need to wait a few more years, until my kids are out of the house. (Boys, if you are reading this, just kidding.)

• I wrote two posts with the exact same title, months apart.  The title?  Gratitude. Being grateful makes life better. 

• I have posts that show my pride in being an American citizen, my search for the meaning of my life, my frustration with resistance to change, and my reflection on how the best of times and the worst of times overlap.  Blogging is a mirror for my emotions on any day. Photo by Leonid Mamchenkov

• Some blog posts were pretty darn good as is.  Note to self: Don't let the perfectionist self-sabotage. 

So thanks to Deb, I've uncovered a bit more about myself.

What are you thinking about these days and what's stopping you from blogging about it?

Are You Fulfilling Your Destiny?

While journaling recently, I wrote the following question: 

"Have I fulfilled my destiny?" 

Have I met the promise of what others saw in me at an early age? For many, family and teachers are the first ones to see our talent, encourage us and see who we could become in the future--for example, a fine musician, a brilliant scientist or a gifted communicator. I see that with my own son, at college for the first time this fall. My husband and I have hopes and dreams for him. We know what he is capable of and where his gifts lie.  We have told him as much.  Photo by Casey David.

But how many of us take the time, decades later, to assess whether we lived up to our potential? 

When I was in high school, I worked hard enough as a flutist to be in top youth orchestras and bands.  Sometimes, people would ask me if I wanted to be a professional musician. I knew back then that music was not my destiny.  I remember two girl flutists who were destined to be professional musicians. Amy and I took lessons from the same teacher and I would hear her playing as I arrived for a lesson.  She had a sureness in her playing that seemed to spring from somewhere deep inside of her. Her fingers flew over the keys, never missing a note. The other flutist, Jane, was someone I met at a music camp.  Jane had an ease and grace with the flute that I had never seen in someone our age.  She was meant to play the flute.  Music was her first language. 

I went to college thinking my destiny was to be an engineer and solve hard problems.  I didn't really know what it was like to be an engineer other than it required training in math and sciences.  I did become an engineer, first a chemical engineer and then a software engineer.  But I know now, that was not my destiny.  Photo by Seattle Municipal Archives.

How did I know that? Not because I changed careers, but because it wasn't something I would have done for free.  I didn't have the curiosity or the love.  It was not my purpose in life to solve hard engineering problems. I know people who are like that, but that wasn't me.

It was my destiny to fulfill my immigrant parents' dream of having all their offspring graduate from college.

It was my destiny to get married to a wonderful man and raise children who are caring and capable and creative.

It was my destiny to go through experiences that taught me compassion, from developing a painful condition in my jaw over several years called TMJ, to taking care of two toddlers on my days off while my husband worked on weekends and holidays, to being laid off twice.

Although I wasn't conscious of it for many years, it was my destiny to speak about what I see and to be the scribe for the human experience.  I write what is true for me, whether it's good times or bad.  In doing so, I make the human condition more accessible, and honor it. The biggest bonus life has given me is the ability to help others through my writing. Photo by Metro Centric

It has been my destiny to uncover wisdom in unexpected places. In 2006, I started a project with a friend who was dying of Lou Gehrig's disease. We called the project, which turned into a podcast, Conscious Living, Conscious Leaving.  I interviewed her during the last six months of her life, through 10 hours of phone calls and many emails. That work was the purest I've done, in that it was labor of love.  I couldn't not do it.

It has been my destiny to continually find ways to learn what I wanted to know and in the process, create a structure for others to learn. In high school, I rallied fellow student council members around a mission--convincing administrators to set aside three days before spring break for an alternative schedule of classes for every single student and then making it happen.  All 1600 students had four periods of new classes, taught by volunteer instructors.  It was a student run, student organized effort called Unique Week. Students took classes in topics as diverse as CPR, cake decorating, fencing, and unicycling and took field trips to local businesses. Photo by matthewcornell

When I was going through coaching training, I created The Coaching Studio, a forum to hone my coaching skills and educate the public on coaching. The format consisted of three coaches, doing 12-minute coaching demonstrations with volunteers, followed by feedback from an audience.  Over time, The Coaching Studio spread to coaches across the U.S.

I'm not sure I was destined to teach others how to network but it has been my destiny to show others how giving first comes back to you many times over. 

It has been my destiny to become more of who I am throughout my lifetime. Not just an analytical engineer, but also an intuitive coach, a compassionate interviewer, a creative entrepreneur, a playful collaborator. 

If I were to ask my teachers, childhood friends and family if I've lived up to the promise that they saw in me decades ago, my hope is that they would be surprised.  I have not climbed to great heights in society. What I did do was this: I took my gifts and did something more meaningful and unique than they had ever imagined.  One's destiny is much deeper and more magical than what can be grasped at the beginning of the journey.  That is what awaits each of us.

Julia Cameron is a favorite writer of mine.  I ran across this passage in her book, The Sound of Paper and it immediately made me smile:

"It is very easy to forget our divine origins. It is very easy to see ourselves as the products of our birth families, shaped and colored only by those transactions. We are much larger than that. We are each a soul, unique and distinctive, bringing to bear on life a rich legacy of spiritual gifts if we but open ourselves to the possibility that we are not merely the products of our conditioning.  We are spiritual beings with spiritual business to transact here on this earth. We have a destiny to fulfill." 

Maybe the question to reflect on is not whether I've fulfilled my destiny, but how I am fulfilling my destiny.  Instead of a yes or no declared through the logical mind, the heart is better equipped to answer this new question. It's a feeling thing, not a thinking thing.

How are you fulfilling your destiny?  I'd love to hear from you.

 

Creating Crap 80% of the Time

I love this video of Ira Glass, host of This American Life, talking about how your best work comes from doing your craft over and over.  20% will be great work and 80% will be crap.  The 20% will make the rest of it worth it. While this video is part of a four-part series, I found this segment to be the most interesting:

 

 

I particularly like the part on being ruthless to get rid of a lot of material.  I think this is where the saying, "Murder your darlings" comes from.  Lately, I've been writing a lot, but only a small portion gets published on this blog or my other blogs.  I'm exercising my writing muscles, after letting them atrophy over the last year.  It reminds me of a wonderful book, Do the Work by Steven Pressfield, that is all about conquering resistance and the need to be perfect.

I also like Glass's point about making your work equal to the level of your taste. In the early days, and maybe long after the early days, there is a gap. You have to keep doing your craft in order to close the gap.  Honestly, I hope my aspirations are always higher than my skill level, so that I have something to strive for. 

When It's Time to Fire Yourself

A 2010 study by consulting firm, BlessingWhite showed that just 31% of employees are engaged at work.  That leaves a boat load of people who don’t want to be at work.  My experience is that a majority of professionals hang on to a job when they should be walking away.

Think about your current position.  Now think about you in that position—not just skill set, talent and experience, but also enthusiasm, attitude, motivation.  Now imagine that your current position is an open job post, and you are the hiring manager.

Would you hire yourself?

If you answered no, it’s time to fire yourself. Photo by 28misguidedsouls.

I’ve been where you are.  

In 2002, I was in a job that made me miserable.  I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until I was in a leadership development program.  I had to assess how much I was in alignment with the organization—in terms of values, interests, goals.   After filling out the form, I remember thinking, “That bad, huh?”  I had been in denial.

But I still wasn’t willing to take action.  In my mind, I assigned a half-hearted timeframe of 18 months to leave my job.   Of course, there was no plan, preparing me for this milestone.

A few weeks later, a friend called at the end of the day.  She was a couple of levels up from me at the same company.  While she didn’t say it out loud, I knew she was giving me a heads up that I was on a list of people to be laid off.  I didn’t have the courage to fire myself, so the company did it for me. They took the choice away from me and guess what?  It was a relief.  Someone had the wisdom to give me my freedom, because I wasn’t brave enough to claim it for myself.  Photo by Sean MacEntee.

On my last day at work, my manager came to my office.  She said quietly, “You are leaving too soon.”  And I replied, “No, it’s not too soon at all.” 

Many years ago, at that same company, I remember a VP who talked about his career as part of a career development program for employees.  He had recently arrived from a competitor and was known as a hatchet man at his previous company.  So it came as a surprise when he confessed to having gotten poor performance reviews during his career.  To him, a poor review meant that he had gotten stale in his job.  It was a sign that he needed to move to another job.  He fired himself.

Why is it so important to be able to fire yourself? 

As a career coach, it’s sad to see professionals who have stayed on the job too long.  The personal toll is significant, including:

• Energy drain.  A poor fitting job—whether it’s a mismatch in values, skills, talents, or interest—takes more energy than one that fits well.  It’s a constant uphill battle.  And these days, no one has energy to waste. Photo by sapiensolutions

• Erosion of self-esteem.  Often, a poor fit includes an unsupportive manager, or at least one who doesn’t appreciate your contributions.  Over time, you begin to doubt your abilities.   You yearn for respect and dignity again.

• Inability to produce your best work.  Sometimes, a poor fit results in a mediocre performance review.  If you are someone who has lots of experience in your role, you might be able to pull off good reviews.  But deep down, you know that you could be producing not just good results, but stellar results.

• Snuffing out of  life force.  In extreme cases, staying in a job that doesn’t fit can mean losing your mojo, the thing that keeps you healthy, resilient and vibrant.  You’ve seen people like this on the job.  These are the walking dead.   Their faces are lifeless.  It’s hard to get a laugh out of them.  They’ve been beaten down. Photo by PopCultureGeek.com

Still not convinced?

I know. You can’t leave your job.  You have kids to put through college, a large mortgage, and that expensive summer vacation to pay off.  Plus you’re due for a new car.   Not to mention that the economy is terrible.

This is called stonewalling.  It’s a tactic that a lot of people use.  In their minds, it’s a question of leave now or not at all.  But that’s a false dilemma. 

It’s not a question of whether to leave.  It’s a question of when.

With adequate planning, most people have more financial options than they think.   One of the first things I advise someone in this situation is to create a financial plan.  Know the bare minimum you need to live on.  Develop a reasonable budget.  Figure out how long you can go without a paycheck.  Take stock of your assets.  And be willing to trade off short term income for your long-term ability to earn a living, not to mention having a satisfying life.

Once you make the decision to leave, you’ll notice an immediate spike in your energy.

That’s because you have something to work towards that’s meaningful.  This is energy that can go towards networking, upgrading your online presence, and attracting opportunities by building a body of work that is distinctive and valuable. 

I once had a coaching client who decided she would leave her job in six months.  On the day that she made that decision, she took control of her destiny.  She stopped complaining about her work situation.  She became excited about the future.  And she showed up differently with others.  Several months later, she was approached for a COO position at a non-profit that she had volunteered with for over a decade. Within a week of her deadline for being in a new job, she accepted the COO position with the new company.

Sure, change is scary. 

And if you weren’t scared about the kind of change I’ve been talking about, there’s probably something wrong with you.  But I’ve never met anyone who felt they left a poorly fitting job too soon.  Have you?

The commitment to change is about valuing your self-worth.  It's the first step to having a rich career, not just a job.  Things won’t change overnight.  But by putting one foot in front of another, you’ll soon find yourself in a much better place.

A Place of No Answers

In our everyday life, we yearn for answers.   A solution to a sticky relationship problem, a confirmation that a project will be completed on time, a knowing that the new hire will work out, a tip on where to find the special ingredient for a new recipe. Photo by dannysullivan.

Recently, I told a colleague, "I'm in a place of no answers."

Two months ago, I was a mess.  I had taken four weeks off from work, only to jump back into my startup, My Alumni Link, and feel even worse than I had before the hiatus. More time off was what I knew was needed.

Since then, I've done a lot of crying, sleeping, and exhaling into a new rhythm of life.    Untethered like an escaped helium balloon, not sure of my work in the world, with no schedule to tell me who I really am, this is a place of no answers. Photo by josephpetepickle.

I have gotten clues to what lies ahead. But if I push too hard for "the answer", I know I'm screwed. The biggest questions in life demand that we not only carve out time to focus, but that we have the patience to let things unfold, in their own time.  Gentle attention is probably more like it.  Process is more important than getting to the end result quickly.

What I hold on to from day to day are the things I know I find joy in--writing, coaching, yoga, hiking. I have had moments of wonderful flow, when thoughts, ideas, and feelings burst through me.  I'm in my full power.  There is no gap between potential and reality.  And other times, I can feel myself drifting back to "working" in a way that is hard. Photo by gnuckx

This place of no answers is typical of most transitions.  Many years ago, I found William Bridges' work on transitions.  With every change, there is a psychological process that everyone goes through--when the "old thing" has ended and the new beginning has not yet started.  This is the Neutral Zone. It can be both confusing and time of great creativity. 

I am in the Neutral Zone. 

In the place of no answers, it helps to admit that you are there.  It helps to ask for help.  It helps to surround yourself with people who love you and believe in you. It helps to give yourself a break. 

After all, we're only human.  Or maybe what's more apt is to say, this is a time when being human is more important than anything else. 

Letting myself be vulnerable has meant letting myself be loved. I have been cheered on and touched by the love of those close to me and people who I've never met. A friend called the other day to see how I was doing. He had noticed that I looked tired a couple of months ago when he had been at my house, not to visit but to clear out our gutters. He knew to give me space before contacting me again. My college roommate emailed me last week, to tell me how much she appreciated my blog posts about burnout. It brought tears to my eyes. These are sweet moments in life.  Photo by Lel4nd

With the worst of times, comes the best of times.

I have a friend who had a stroke last year.  She started back at work early this year and has slowly been adding to her schedule as her capacity increases. My friend knows about moving into a different pace of life, a more human pace.  We have had intimate conversations, over the phone and through email.  We talk about when our egos want the old thing that we know and when our soul gently tells us, "Honey, trust me.  You don't want that.  What's to come is even better. Just be patient." 

On my good days, I listen to my soul. On my bad days, my ego is riding me hard.

With a post about no answers, there is no tidy conclusion. Only more questions. 

For you, what question is better left unanswered right now?