The truth about do-overs

There’s something unique about senior years in high school. Largely, they include things you’ll do for the first time and things you’ll do for the last time. I edited a school newspaper for the first time in my life and, just before graduation, for the last time. I acted (well sort of) and sang in Oklahoma! for the first and, so far, for the last time. I produced a talent show and haven’t done that since I graduated with my fellow 350 classmates, most of whom I’ve not seen since.

I’ve thought about reprising my senior year and playing certain things out differently—no doubt carefully applying the benefits that being older and wiser afford. I’d probably be friendlier and more outgoing. I’d be less concerned about being popular and more about helping others without regard for their place in the school. I’d befriend more people, ask more questions, help more folks, appreciate my parents more, find fewer faults, praise others more often, and find the courage to stand up to bullies…

The unfortunate thing about life is that we rarely get true “do-overs.”

We might have a chance to offer an apology for something we’ve done. Or, as they say (somewhere), “mend our ways.” But we can’t take back what’s been done. We can only choose what we’ll do in the present moment to make a difference, offer hope, change a life, encourage the dispirited, say “thanks,” open a door, smile, help others laugh…

The point is not what has happened—unchangeable and cast already—but what we choose to make happen in the here and now. Although decent intentions are always good to have, the future is only created by action.

The beginnings and ends of years, days and minutes are somewhat irrelevant—and mostly artificial—markers. It’s what happens within those markers that can change a life.

What if we lived life knowing (really knowing) that there are no do-overs? What would a life lived that way really be?

Following intense rehab, snowboarder Kevin Pearce returns home

After four months of intense rehab following a near-fatal snowboarding accident, Kevin Pearce returned to his family’s Norwich, VT home last week. Although hopes for an Olympic metal were dashed, for him, being home with his family was a golden moment that gave him a new perspective on his young life.

You can read a New York Times account here and watch NBC Nightly News coverage here. An ItsJakesWorld post from February 27, 2010 is here.

The virtue of bad news

Newspaper and television reports, filled with stories of hardship and misfortune, affect us on some level. Yet, each report takes on a different meaning when the casualty of war is a friend’s son or daughter, or when unemployment becomes a family member’s story.

Although the news seems to be about “the other guy,” it may be more about us than we think.

I was reminded of this the other day when a co-worker’s dear mother passed on unexpectedly. At a spry 80-plus years, she was filled with spunk and lived a strong and inspiring life. Although I never knew her personally, her death reminded me of my parents’ lives and how much their values permeate my work and friendships today. As I wrote a note to my friend the other night, I found myself thinking that her mom’s enthusiasm and drive didn’t die with her, rather, it was being passed on through the stories she shared with me and others. Her passing, a huge loss for her family, contained a small note of inspiration for me: How could I dial up my own enthusiasm for life? It was a small measure of good to be found in the bad news.

Something similar could be said for news accounts of the Haiti earthquake. Most of us have trouble relating to devastation on such a large scale, but it becomes real when a neighbor’s home is damaged by fire or flood. Suddenly “over there” moves closer to home. What does that mean to me and can I reach out to lighten the burden? Perhaps the news calls us to be a contribution.

Millions of people today are looking for work after losing their jobs to economic conditions. The big numbers and statistics shield us from individuals with faces, names, families and their own stories. For them, the bad news contains little good. Yet that judgment may be hasty, especially if causes us to miss how the closing of one door points to others we didn’t see.

And, that may be the point. Sometimes the current situation—good, bad or otherwise—can lead us, if not lull us, into complacency about how much we really have to offer others. We may accept the status quo because the not status-quo is scary or not even apparent. So, we settle for what we have because it’s convenient, if not easy and safe.

What if the “We have to let you go” message that many have heard is really “We’re setting you free.” I don’t credit employers with all that much smarts, insight or unselfishness. We have to assume that for ourselves. We must read the lines and understand the real story. We choose how we hear the message.

Being set free isn’t such a bad thing. Neither is taking a longed-for chance or a risk, something that can be scary and heartening at the same time.

Set free. Seeing new doors and opening them to a better life and greater contribution.

That’s the virtue in bad news.

Olympic mettle

I’ve not always been a fan of the Olympics. Not being particularly athletic or overly interested in sports, they always seemed to be a non-event. That was until, a few years ago, a friend and colleague told me how much the athletes’ dedication, incredibly hard work, and personal sacrifice inspired him and his wife.

And so, I started watching. At first, with disinterest and skepticism. Then, with curiosity. Later with attachment. And now, with awe.

Yes, there are carefully choreographed opening spectacles with parades of athletes bursting with national pride. And there is the generally good-natured rivalry between teammates who cheer each other in nearly selfless joy.

But it’s the stories inside the events that speak to the mettle of which these young athletes are made.

Snowboarder Kevin Pearce and brother David. Click on the picture to watch an NBC story about Kevin and his family.

There’s the story of Joannie Rochette, the Canadian figure skater who lost her mother just two days before her walk onto the ice. Understandably shaken, but undeterred, she won a bronze medal.

And there’s Kwame-Nkrumah Acheampong, the 33-year-old, one-man ski team from Ghana. Nicknamed “snow leopard” because the animal is as uncommon as a skier from Ghana, his skiing career started only five years ago.

And Jeret “Speedy” Peterson, a man who faced down addiction and pain to become the first skier to land “the hurricane,” a wrap of five twists into three somersaults that takes place 50 feet in the air. For Speedy, it was a silver medal.

Most Olympic stories are not just about an athlete. They are the stories of people who, through their own sacrifice and support, make another’s achievements possible. Take Kevin Pearce, whose half-pipe moves are compared to those of fellow snowboarder Shaun White–this Olympic’s gold medal winner. Kevin, who couldn’t compete due to a serious injury he suffered on December 31, 2009, now fiercely struggles to talk again and to regain the use of his limbs. It’s a slow, slow process. But it’s his brother, David, born with Down Syndrome, who has provided an unexpected perspective on Kevin’s recovery. “We learned patience from David,” his mother said, remembering that it took him three years to learn to put on his seatbelt.

For many Olympians, there will be medals. For all, there will be memories deeply etched in Vancouver’s snow.

But for Kevin, brothers David, Andrew and Adam, and parents Pia and Simon, there are no medals, no snow, only love.

And, perhaps that is the best metal of all.

May 3, 2010 UPDATE: Kevin is making a remarkable recovery, has been released from Craig Hospital in Englewood, CO, and awaits the real victory of returning to his home in Norwich, VT. His doctor says he’ll be able to make another return: to snowboarding!

Of greener grass and the proverbial fence

Winter’s weeks-long grip on the South has relaxed a bit of late. Temperatures, which have barely peaked above the 40s in what seems like forever, have climbed into the 60s much to the delight of children and adults playing in the parks and strolling along walking trails. It won’t be long before tulips push through the soggy ground and the local soccer fields turn green.

For some reason, this change of scenery reminded me of an expression I first heard from my dad when I was probably five years old. We were engaged in one of those “I wish” conversations where you want what you don’t have. After wishing things into the ground for several minutes, he looked at me and said, “Son, you know they always say that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.” To me, this confirmed that fences were meant to deprive animals of the good fortune of better grass “over there.” In this case is was in the neighbor’s pasture.

My five-year-old logic said that if you took the fences down, horses and cows wouldn’t have to be jealous of another’s better fortune and could move wherever they perceived the greener grass to be. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most practical of solutions.

Despite my childish logic, his point didn’t escape me. Nor does it today.

But we do seem to live in a world that, just beyond our grasp, is slightly better than the one in our hands. We long for warmer weather in the throes of winter and more moderate temperatures during the summer. Or, we’re on the prowl for better jobs, friends, houses or lovers. And, because greener/better is always “over there,” we never quite find it.

Another take on the greener over there proverb came to me awhile ago as I was waiting for a friend to arrive at her office. As I waited patiently, one of her office mates began describing the strong odor of solvent coming from another office in the building. She complained about the thoughtlessness of the landlord and the lack of ventilation, how she’d had to cancel classes during the week and how miserable the situation made her. Despite my suggestion about not letting this take her joy away, nothing would shake her angry words about the problem in which she seemed firmly anchored.

Largely, her story is the same drama in which, at times, we act. Becoming so enwrapped in a situation, we cannot choose a different scene or better context. We see and experience only the moment in all its horrifitude. (That’s a new word.)

In my own experience, I find it’s difficult to see how stuck we really are. But others often see what we don’t, that we have options, choices and potential. Potential that goes unrealized as we look and relook at the same problem, seeing the same evidence over and over again.

Is there a way out? Almost always. Here are three questions that help:

• Is there another way to look at this problem/situation/event? Think of it this way: How would someone completely unconnected describe it?
• Am I letting this define who I am and how I think about myself? It’s a case of choosing a new script or a new role to take on.
• If I can’t change the whole picture, is there a part I can change?

My dad’s admonition about the grass being greener on the other side is a good reminder that where we are often looks more bleak than where we aren’t. The idea of moving “over there” is, of course, tempting but not always practical.

Yet the grass remains under our feet. How we look at it is largely up to us.

How do you measure a year?

Jonathan Larson’s catchy song “Seasons of Love” poses an interesting question. It’s from the overwhelmingly popular Broadway musical (and movie) Rent in which impoverished friends—young artists and musicians—struggle to survive and create in New York City. In the song, the cast considers how a year is best “measured.” Should it be by days or cups of coffee, they wonder. Or perhaps it should be in inches, miles, laughter or strife. They conclude the best way is in 525,600 minutes. But not just any kind of minutes, but moments of love.

(You can watch a video of the song here.)

Not to get heavy here, but it’s pretty clear that our world needs help. As you think about this year, it’s been one of difficult choices and anger that borders on hatred. But when you think about the new year, it is a collage of choices yet to be made, one after another.

And so, as we close out this year with its own 525,600 moments—98 percent of them already spent—and begin another decade, we do so, one moment at a time.

That presents a powerful opportunity to choose how we’ll live 2010. Will it be by bringing more compassion, care and loving concern to our neighbors and planet? That would be good.

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about. It’s a sort of do less of, do more of, and give to others approach…

• What if you could eliminate one habit from your life that no longer serves you well. How would that help you grow next year? (For me, being too skeptical or hesitant comes to mind.)
• What if you could add one thing to your life. How could it improve your well-being and outlook? (More time to grow spiritually probably tops the list in my world.)
• What could you give to others to make the world a better place? (Being more tolerant and patient fits for me.)

Think about the do less, do more, help others question. Then, begin each day thinking about how you can put each into practice. How about a scorecard to track your progress?

Think of it this way: Any time you do what’s on your list is one less moment of doing the opposite.

Want to join me? It’ll only take a minute.

I mean, it’s not like you don’t have 525,600 of them next year!

The gift

I was scanning the online version of a local newspaper yesterday and I was amazed at comments from readers who, to put it mildly, seemed really angry (if not hostile) about the closing of a particular store in the city’s downtown area. It’s not what you think: They were angry because the store, in their opinion, catered to wealthy people and, as such, deserved to close. Yes, the logic is somewhat flawed.

It made me think about the opposite of anger and hostility. Could holding kind and loving thoughts make a difference in our experience and in that of others? We do know that people who constantly look at the emptiness of the glass (and embrace other limiting thoughts) have higher rates of depression and less health. And, conversely, we know that people who are positive, reinforcing and who express joy spread it to others. (Here’s a post about that.)

As I thought about the comments on the store’s closing, I was tempted to add my own to the ones already there. I would write about how such criticism of the store or others (regardless of their financial conditions) really didn’t better mankind much at all.

Instead, I went in a different direction. What if we thought about our lives as giving to others without regard to status or wealth? Those who are given lots share with those who don’t have. And those who have less share their gifts with others. Each of us has a gift to give.

What if you had a gift to give someone: a gift that you knew was beautiful and would bless others.

What if the person wasn’t ready to receive it? Would you withhold it because you fear it would be rejected and you along with it?

But what if the gift had to do with the Universe unfolding to someone and nothing to do with you?

And what if the gift–even if not acknowledged–would remain what it was, ready to come to life in the way a dormant flower or plant awakens in the spring? And what if it might, at some point in the future, be recognized for what it was?

And what if that gift was love?

Seeing the tapestry

I want to tell you a story of returning to ourselves. Stick with me here.

Many of us, at some point(s) in our lives, come to a place where we’re truly puzzled about why we’re here and what we’re to do. We may turn to friends, to counselors, to God for perspective and the answers.

It can seem dark and dense. And, if we’re looking for a lightning bolt or flash of light to move us, we may wait a long time. More often than not, the darkness disappears as a single lighter thought comes to us, to be joined by another, and yet another.

The details of my situation really are of little importance. But the way the light dawned on me is. Here goes…

Several months ago, I was talking to a friend about a situation that didn’t seem right to me. After poring over the details and bemoaning them, he just said, “You should read your blog.”

What an odd thought, I thought.

But yesterday was exceptionally dark and it seemed like a good time to start with the first post and read through to the most recent.

In doing so, I gained a renewed understanding of the importance of perspective—that sometimes illusive ability to see patterns and textures in tapestry where we might be used to looking at individual threads. Those threads are much like the details of our lives that can obscure the bigger picture, the larger purpose, the greater good that’s really going on.

So, the blog is back. I’m back. Back to the place I didn’t have to leave and, in truth, never did. Just a side trip, it was. Only a side trip.

Being the change

DENVER, COLORADO. It’s not your usual story about restaurants, food, or about prices and cash registers.

It’s about serving people, serving dignity, and serving hope.

You see, when you have lunch at SAME Café, you become part of a larger mission of helping others, So All May Eat.

SAME Café, sandwiched between local bars, thrift stores and tattoo parlors on East Colfax Avenue, is the loving work of Brad and Libby Birky. “We think that everybody deserves to eat well,” says Brad. They started the small restaurant by borrowing from their own retirement accounts when no bank would lend them money.

The menu changes daily and features soups, salads and pizza, using mostly organic ingredients prepared fresh by chef Brad.

Customers place their food order and receive a small envelope in which they put their donation for the food they eat. There is no cash register, credit card machine or change drawer. Some pay sparingly. Others are extremely generous. Others can’t pay. They are encouraged to donate an hour doing dishes, sweeping floors, wiping tables, doing some mopping.

Today, with the economy, SAME Café finds more people volunteering.

Despite that, affluent couples mix with those in need. Each enjoys the good food, the chance to be warm and to sit and chat.

One news reporter likened SAME to Gandhi’s admonition to “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

Brad and Libby are inspiring builders of a better society. One thing we know is that there are many other Brads and Libbys out there. Their spirit of giving is part of who we are, too. The question is how we will pass it on to others.

You can visit www.soallmayeat.org to learn more or make a contribution and you can watch the NBC News report on SAME Cafe here.

 

Six points is just about everything

Patrick is your usual high school senior. He studies. He plays basketball. He’s a favored son of parents, Pat and Perry.

And he has Downs syndrome.

That small fact doesn’t stop Patrick from running drills with the team throughout the year or playing with them during summer practices. And even though he’s never played in a real game, when you hear his teammates talk, you can feel the respect they have for Patrick, his toughness and his dedication to the team.

But, senior night, as it’s known, would put Patrick in a special place made possible by his friend and team standout, Sam Thompson. It was Sam who gave up his starting position so that Patrick could play in his only actual game, the last his high school would play that year.

“If I can help him have a special experience tonight, I’ll do whatever it takes,” Sam said, unconcerned that he was giving up his final starting role on the team.

And even though the center of attention that night would be Patrick, the decision of his coach and the support of his fellow players would enable this young man’s dream to become real.

The game began. Patrick missed his first shot, but a minute or so later made a clean shot from 20 feet out. Swish. Three points.

Near the end of the fourth quarter, fans started chanting Patrick’s name, demanding that he get another chance to play. With just a few minutes left in the game, Patrick took his place on the court. And just as the buzzer sounded, Patrick landed another three pointer. Swish.

Final score: Greely High School: 61 — Gray New Glouster: 43.

Players surrounded the new star, lifted him in the air and carried him off the court as the school’s new hero. But to 18-year-old Patrick, the real heroes were likely his team members who gave up just a little to give him so much.

“Praise song for the day”

Much will be written about yesterday’s history-making inaugural of Barack Obama. Two-plus million people crammed the National Mall to celebrate what many believe will be a future brightened by new leadership and a call for political integrity.

Elizabeth Alexander's poem as a "Wordle" or word cloud.

One note, perhaps missed in the chilly 20-degree temperatures, was poet Elizabeth Alexander’s echo of the new President’s challenge for daily labor, responsibility and sacrifice in her poem titled “Praise Song for the Day.” She joins the tiniest number of peers-three others, Robert Frost, Maya Angelou and Miller Williams-as an inaugural poet. Her offering consisted of  unrhymed three-line stanzas, and a one-line coda: “praise song for walking forward in that light.”

Such ceremonial poems rarely become the stuff of historic literature. But that’s not to say her poetic tapestry of small details and infinite themes should be overlooked. After all, who would not pause, if only for a moment, to reflect on her question: “What if the mightiest word is love? Love beyond marital, filial, national, love that casts a widening pool of light, love with no need to pre-empt grievance.”

A video is available here; the text follows…

 

by Elizabeth Alexander

 

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky. A teacher says,“Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe. We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp — praise song for walking forward in that light.

The way it’s supposed to be

The water landing of US Airways Flight 1549 and the rescue of all 155 aboard is truly a tremendous feat, if not-as some say-a miracle. The quick thinking of the pilot and co-pilot, the decisive actions of flight attendants, the passengers’ relative calm in the midst of chaos, and the flawless, timely rescues by passing boats and helicopters made for a tragedy that could have been, but wasn’t.

Who among us didn’t feel a sense of awe as we took in television or radio accounts of The Miracle on the Hudson, as it’s been dubbed?

But, what we should also recognize is that all that surrounded The Miracle was “the way it’s meant to happen.” Well, except for the birds in the engines, that is.

Training.

Teamwork.

Quick thinking.

Decisiveness.

Bravery.

The system worked! Think about that. That’s the way it is supposed to be.

Who did not go home that day thinking, “I’m honored to have done my part. I was in the right place at the right time.”

It’s reasonable to conclude that passengers would heap mounds of praise on the crew and that both passengers and crew would heap mounds of praise on the rescuers. Each would probably say, “I was just doing my job.”

In fact, one of the rescuers, a scuba diver, described the training that equipped him to work in freezing Hudson River water that is totally black just inches beneath the surface. When submerged, they couldn’t see anything, so they worked by feel.

When a reporter asked if he felt fear when he jumped from the hovering helicopter, he paused, then said, “No, there wasn’t time for that. There were just people to be rescued from the freezing water.”

There are many lessons from this, but one stood out to me today while at the drive through window of a local fast food restaurant, the one with yellow arches outside. Oftentimes, such places don’t attract the most enthusiastic workers. For many, it’s just a job and a way to pay the bills which often gets played out as disinterest and rudeness.

I couldn’t see the woman who took my order, but her voice came clearly and professionally through the speaker. After carefully repeating my order and giving me the total, she concluded with a confident, “Thank you for your order, sir. Please pull forward at your convenience.”

I handed her the money when I reached the window. She was a 50s-something African American woman with graying hair pulled tightly away from her face. I inquired if she was the person who took my order. “Yes,” she said, “why do
you ask?”

I looked her in the eyes and said, “Because I have never been treated so professionally here. You have lots to teach others about customer service.”

As I said it, I thought about the people whose actions lead to the safe outcome of Flight 1549. Someone was there to thank them–even though they were just “doing their jobs” just like this woman.

Her eyes sparkled. The smile on her face was real. “You just made my day,” she said.

As I pulled away I couldn’t help but think, “That, too, is the way it’s supposed to be.”

Four tips to keep your resolutions alive

With the Christmas holiday behind us, we turn (overstuffed, no doubt) to the next milestone in the season: the New Year, which we will dutifully mark with football games, parades, and more food. And, because it’s “the new year,” about two thirds of us will use the opportunity to gin-up a resolution or two.

We’ll sign up to lose weight, manage debt, save money, get a better job, get fit, eat right, get an education, drink less, quit smoking and/or reduce stress. (These, by the way, are the most mentioned resolutions on a usa.gov website that tracks them on our behalf.) Resolutions are good, we tell ourselves.

And they can be, although I’ve never really been a huge fan of using the changing year to suddenly attempt a self remake. Seems that a more useful approach is to fairly regularly look at ourselves and see if some adjustments or course corrections are warranted. So, that said, I’m going to proceed by changing the idea of a “resolution” into a “goal.”

It’s a powerful feeling to know we’ve done what we set out to do: overcoming obstacles, being tenacious in the face of setbacks, and staying focused. Unfortunately, most of us will fall off the resolution bandwagon shortly after we get on. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Here are four ways you can tip the scales of success in your direction.

1. Ask: What do you really want?

This is the most important element in establishing an achievable goal. Think about it this way: If you really want something, you think about it, consciously and unconsciously giving it mental energy. You may even visualize it, sometimes vividly! (That’s a good thing, by the way.) Athletes often do this, for example. A distance runner might see herself crossing the finish line ahead of others, or a golfer may visualize his golf swing as a complete, smooth arc.

This kind of goal is different from those containing “I should’s” or “I oughta’s.” There’s an element of “If I’d just do (or stop doing) this, I’d be okay. Until then, I’m probably not.” Ouch. Not the best self-talk, that’s for sure. Let’s say, for example, that you feel you should spend more time with your family which, of course, implies that you don’t spend enough today. A more powerful way to say that is, “I want to build my relationship with my wife by spending quality time with her each day.” According to some, phrasing the goal in the present is even better. “I am building my relationship with my wife by spending quality time with her each day.”

Here are some other good examples. “I’m using my blog to help people succeed.” “I’m becoming more fit by walking three days a week.” “I’m eating more healthy by including one or two more servings of fresh fruits and vegetables each day.”

2. Have a clear sense of “What’s in it for me?” (WIIFM)

The examples above include a personal benefit (WIIFM) as well as a means to achieve it. Both are important ingredients in the recipe for achieving your goals.

The benefit can act as a magnet, drawing you toward something worthwhile. This takes on special meaning when your goal is a tough one, requires some sacrifice, or requires courage. For example, resisting the urge to smoke, taking on a new career challenge, or running on a treadmill for the first time in years can, at first, be pretty daunting. So, WIIFM?

In the case of smoking, quitting will likely give you more energy and stamina and result in a healthier life. Focusing on the benefits (health, energy, stamina) helps draw us to what we want, rather than on what we’re missing (smoking, in this case.) Sure, it’s a simplification, but the more you can “feel the feeling” that results from your goal—the more you’ll find the motivation for staying with it. This is “WIIFM?” at its finest.

3. Under promise, over deliver.

There’s something to be said for tough goals that are outside our easy grasp. Mega-goals can be good because they stretch us, give us confidence when achieved, and can set the example for others. But, generally, less is probably better.

Let’s say your goal is to get more physically fit next year. In an ideal world, you might have time to visit the gym seven days a week. But the world in which most of us live includes days that are chock full of real work, family, friends, you name it. So, why not set an achievable goal—one that makes you feel good when you actually do it?

Here’s a thought. Let’s say your achievable goal is to go to the gym three days a week. What if you actually made it four times one week? How would you feel?

This is not meant to low-ball goal setting. It’s about being realistic and achievable and feeling good about your progress.

4. Find reinforcements.

Many motivational experts say you should commit your goals or resolutions to paper. The value of doing this–especially if you write both the goal/resolution and the details associated with it–is that the physical act of writing it down helps solidify the idea in your thinking. If your goal has sub-goals associated with it, plan the steps to get there. Want to lose ten pounds? What will you do when you lose one, two, three, etc.? Consider including reminders and reinforcing messages in Outlook or your activity planner.

Your friends and family can help, too, especially if you use them to encourage and celebrate your success. Consider an “activity partner” who shares your same desire. Why walk alone during lunch when a work mate might enjoy it as well?

Remember that, at their core, goals and resolutions are meant to help us do something different. If we set them correctly, they will help us achieve greater happiness, success and fulfillment. There’s an old adage that says a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. The lesson here is keeping the final destination in mind but, at the same time, valuing each step that gets us there.

And what if you don’t reach the goal? That’s okay. Try again. Take another step.

Here’s to step-by-step progress in 2009!

Living your life with passion

Today, a colleague forwarded an unsolicited email from someone I don’t know, someone who has suddenly found himself out of work, an unwitting victim (my word, not his) of the downturning economy. Jeff (not his real name) writes that, “Obviously, today’s job market is tougher than most so beyond using the traditional job search methods I know I need to get ultra creative and I know I’m going to need all the assistance I can get. I was wondering if you could provide some assistance.”

Jeff…

The truth is that career advice is fairly well available on the web today. Monster, CareerBuilders, TheLadders serve it up by the bucketful. “Have a good resume and cover letter,” they’ll say. Another touts the merits of networking. They do a much better job on career advice than I.

That said, I’ll offer up a couple thoughts.

The first is this: Don’t allow yourself to think of yourself as “a victim.” Sure, the economy isn’t what we’d like it to be and your company needed to take some action. That is, unfortunately, “business” as they say. But to think about yourself as its victim immediately places you in a mental position that can include doubting your abilities, questioning if you should have done something differently, and why it was you and not someone else.

I’m not saying a little self-reflection is bad, I’m just suggesting that victims have it tougher than those who are mentally tough.

The second is this: Each of us can achieve more than we think we can. The difference between mediocre and magnificent comes down to one thing: passion. Substitute a different word if you’d like: emotional engagement, enthusiasm, joy, zeal, fervor, etc. Pick one that fits and live it to the fullest.

Here’s why. All great achievements come through dedicated, hardworking people who believe in their mission and purpose. And only YOU can do that for yourself.

When you approach the job market, do it with a passion and belief that you are the best at what you do because you (1) have practiced doing it (2) consistently do it and (3) have a full glass, not a half full one or a half empty one.

Here’s an afterthought. Find your touchstone, something you can believe in if times get rough. This can be your family, a strong belief that never shakes, a favorite saying. Return to this and remind yourself why it’s important to you. Leverage it if you have a bad day.

So, throw yourself a pity party if you must, but don’t stay too long. The world is big and it needs you!

Giving an “A”

Boston Philharmonic conductor Benjamin Zander is, among other things, a noted interpreter of composer Gustav Mahler. But it’s his book, The Art of Possibility, that has had my attention the past few weeks. Zander and his wife Rosamund have collaborated to produce a manuscript that not only encourages the heart but inspires the soul to help others find their place, their gifts, and their talents in a way that the world doesn’t always let us do.

The chapter “Giving an A” makes a convincing case that life is less about getting high marks and comparing ourselves with others, and more about helping others be successful. (The “giving an A” concept is also attributed to Garry Ridge, CEO of WD-40, by the way.)

Zander explains that his 30 graduate students at the New England Conservatory are charged, over a two semester course in musical performance, to learn the psychological and emotional factors that stand in the way of great music-making. As great musicians know, musical accuracy and precision are one of the hallmarks of great performances. But, more so, is musical interpretation—connecting with music on an almost spiritual level, finding the deep-seated meanings in the notes and phrases and executing them with passion.

Zander believes that the quest for accuracy often trumps the search for passion. So, he takes the accuracy requirement off the table telling students that they already have an “A” in the class. They are free to explore the composer’s works and soulfully decode the music for themselves. In turn, he tells them to place themselves in the future, look back, and report all the insights they gained in a letter to him, written as if the end of the second semester was behind them. “Dear Mr. Zander,” the letter is to begin, “I got my A because…”

The dozen or so letters he shares in the book are jewels of self-discovery. They are testaments to the importance of shedding judgment and grades and taking on the mantle of writing our own future, devoid of the expectation of always playing the right notes and never making mistakes. “All songs are beautiful,” Zander might say, “just let us hear you, let us hear yours!”

Gustav Mahler’s Ninth Symphony is the last completed before his death. It’s one of Mahler’s most musically challenging but also one of the most uplifting as it chronicles the composer’s life of triumph and tragedy.

It’s a test of technique, but mostly of interpretation and expression. It’s a little deep, a little dark, but also elevating as it shows how passion makes the best performance—in music, with family, at work, wherever.

If you already had an “A” in any subject in life, how would that change your performance? And, if you were to help people get “A’s,” how could it change their lives?

Your song for world peace

Sitting quietly and almost hidden in composer and conductor John Williams’ immense body of orchestral work is a gentle, but insistent, almost five minute composition called “Song for World Peace.” It’s part of his “American Journey” album.

The idea that earth’s seven billion inhabitants could live together without strife is a concept almost too large to comprehend.

But, Williams’ musical development of “Song for World Peace” is a metaphor, of sorts, of how peace might come to our planet. French horns introduce a simple theme that is echoed by flutes, later by clarinets, then strings and the entire orchestra. But, slowly, the theme dies out and falters.

Williams then begins a new, but complementary, theme. Again, it begins somewhat tentatively, but it grows much richer and more confident, bringing an affirmation that peace may, in fact, be possible.

World peace would imply that individuals are at peace, too, meaning that the tiny moments of impatience and the bigger moments of personal anger would not exist either. The sometimes strong desire to honk at the slow driver and harsh words would yield to love and compassion. It is a tall order.

Which raises the question: Would I be ready for world peace if it should break out? And, even more important, how am I waging peace in my life? What are my individual peace efforts?

Philanthropist Kathryn Wasserman Davis provides her own practical example. “I want to use my 100th birthday to help young people launch some immediate initiatives,” she said, “—things that they can do during the summer of 2007—that will bring new thinking to the prospects of peace in the world” You can learn about her work here. It was such a successful effort that 100 Projects for Peace continues in 2008.

“My many years have taught me that there will always be conflict. It’s part of human nature,” Davis wrote. “But I’ll remind you that love, kindness, and support are also part of human nature. My challenge to you is to bring about a mindset of preparing for peace, instead of preparing for war.”

How do you prepare for peace?

The (sometimes) wisdom of reader boards

I’m not usually one who pays attention to reader boards and the sometimes successful (but not usually) attempts to be funny or clever in 20 words or less. But while visiting a local gas station this morning, I couldn’t help but notice a pithy one outside a Days Inn. “The years teach much which the days will never know,” it read. “Interesting,” I thought and turned away to find out how much gas would cost this time around.

Then, I turned back and re-read the board. What a commanding ten-word reminder that perspective, the ability to put events in context, is a powerfully freeing skill—though it often eludes us in the press of daily life.

Turns out that the words are Ralph Waldo Emerson’s, the mid 1800s author, poet and philosopher.

I think there’s a difference between gaining perspective and “rolling with the punches” or “letting water run off your back.” While there’s something to be said for lightening up and not taking things seriously all the time, there’s a certain beauty or wisdom in being able to rise above the moment to see how it fits with days and weeks and years. It promotes a kind of learning that helps us see how all the dots actually connect together.

Yet, that’s not easy to do sometimes, especially if something feels personal, emotional or if the skin that’s in the game happens to be yours.

Several years ago, I was faced with a difficult job and an equally testy boss. The whole situation became so complicated that I could see no way out. I temporarily lacked the insight to see what was really going on, my role in it, and any possible future that could be less miserable. Things were not only unhappy, I was beginning to lose energy and enthusiasm.

Then I recalled working for a boss who was in charge of testing some very complex, expensive equipment. On the late shift one night, technicians incorrectly programmed a computer. The result was that the equipment literally dropped several inches resulting in perhaps catastrophic and expensive damage.

I learned about the problem the next day. The office was buzzing with engineers forecasting dire consequences for the program and for some of the leadership, my boss included.

In one meeting, men were wondering how our boss could remain so centered and focused. In his characteristically thoughtful and unflappable way, he reached into a drawer and pulled out what looked like a very large aspirin pill about three inches across. It was made of Styrofoam and covered with paper on each side. On the paper were written these words, “Anti-glum pill. Take with a large dose of perspective.”

We all laughed, in part to break the tenseness of the situation, but more because it was funny. He went on to say, “All we need do is our best. That’s why we’ve been successful in the past and what will make this project work. Let’s focus on the future because it’s darned sure to be better than the past couple of days!”

Applying that to my own situation, I asked myself what was the worst possible outcome, the most awful thing that could happen. That was an easy answer: I could lose my job. And, if that happened, what would I do? I’d sell the house, pack things up and go back to school. I could support myself playing the piano in clubs. Life would be okay.

That dose of perspective was what I needed to make a decision. I left that job within 30 days on a Friday. On Monday, I was doing consulting work for a large company.

Perspective is a great tool.

UPDATE: November 15, 2008. Today, the sign reads “Sofa for Sale.” Hmmm.

How do you maintain your perspective when things get tense? Add your comments!

Courage on the field

“He was an outstanding young man of great character who served—and my hope is, will continue to serve—as an inspiration to the young people of this country.”

…John F. Kennedy on Ernie Davis

The movie, The Express, came out this weekend. It’s the story of Ernie Davis, the young African-American football standout whose conviction, character and performance won him the coveted Heisman Trophy, given each year to the most outstanding college athlete. In the case of Davis, he was the first African-American to receive it.

The Express is a vivid and sometimes painful reminder of America in the late 1950s and how a man, determined to be the best football player he could be, helped our country move past its long-held views of people of color.

Davis was born in 1939 and was raised in poverty in Pennsylvanian coal mining country by his grandparents. At the age of 12, he was reunited with his mother and new stepfather. They moved to Elmira, New York where he became the star player on his high school team—a fact that did not go unnoticed by more than 50 college teams who offered him scholarships, something unheard of among Black players at the time. He chose Syracuse and went on to help the school achieve national status including winning the Cotton Bowl against the University of Texas in 1959.

As a movie, The Express is probably “just okay.” The acting is a bit stilted and some of the casting of the players is inconsistent. But as a story of determination and quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) standing for the fair treatment of everyone, it’s unmatched and inspiring. As I watched the movie, in scenes of anger and hatred so strong that I winced at times, I couldn’t help but think about my biases, subtle and not-so, and wonder how they cloud what I see and how I think about others.

The Express stars Dennis Quaid as coach Ben Schwartzwalder and Rob Brown as Davis.