Author: Ricardo

I know that this is probably a really unpopular, potentially offensive thing to say, and I will say it anyway. I don’t go out of my way to support breast cancer research because, at this point in my life, my time and resources are limited. Since my time and resources are limited, then I have to take a hard look at where I spend both of them. When I take that look, I observe that a lot of people dedicate both their spare time and resources towards breast cancer research and awareness. It’s a topic that is very much in the public eye. So, I can take a step back and look elsewhere.

Like to research into Rett Syndrome. I have a personal connection to Rett Syndrome, so that explains my primary motivation. I also know that it’s not exactly a disorder about which most people are aware. So, I see it as my obligation to lend whatever support I can into research. It’s a personal choice, of course, and I think that the resources I direct towards Rett Syndrome are needed more because there are fewer people contributing. There are all kinds of rational reasons for why I’m misguided, I am sure. Where you focus your energy and resources, though, isn’t exactly a rational, objective science.

Similarly, I find myself leaning towards other organizations and the work that they do because of a personal connection that initially drew my attention. Once the personal connection is made, then I assess the value of my contributions. Does what I do make a difference? Can I find a niche where my unique talents can be leveraged? Will my monetary contributions be used in a manner that aligns with my personal philosophies and convictions? Is there an opportunity to affect the greater good? The answers to all these questions (and others) do not have to be “yes.” I just have to say “yes” to enough of them. Take Acumen Fund, for example. I was moved by a personal appeal. I was persuaded by what I read online. I was sold by the passion and conviction of the people who work for the organization. No science here, just art, feeling. It really comes down to emotions, doesn’t it? Why pretend I am wholly rational when we are, by nature and design, not rational creatures?

I am, by no means, one of the great philanthropists of the world. My life is unfolding in such a way, though, that I recognize that my time, energy, and coffers are needed in ways that I have yet to contribute. This is why I am here. This is why I am writing this. It is not all about dollars and cents and cans of green beans dropped off at the local food bank. All of those are needed. But your time, energy, and, most importantly, love are needed more than anything else. 

Dollars fuel the machine, but love sets the course.

Share your love.

It’s not that I feel any more important today than I did yesterday.  It’s not that I feel like my purpose for existing is any more clear to me.  It’s not that I have figured out any of life’s great mysteries.

The difference is in believing that I can.  I just can.  Period.

It’s not delusional.  It’s not overly optimistic.  It’s not idealistic.  What it is…well, is true.

I can.

I can because it’s not hard.  I can because there is no reason not to.  I can because there are courses of action to which I am called, and if I am called then I am meant to.  I can because there is no reason to fear.

I can because maybe nobody else will, and, my friends, that would be a tragic shame.

I can.

Can you?  

I sure hope that you do.

 Some days, you just have to go see a contemporary jazz dance performance just for the sake of going to see a contemporary jazz dance performance.  Why not?  When was the last time you did that?  Maybe last week.  Maybe never.  Regardless, it’s something that you can say you’ve done after you’ve been to one.

See?  That was easy.  I just had an enriching life experience.  No TV.  No DVD.  No internet video.  I sat in a seat next to my wife and watched a contemporary jazz dance performance.  I enjoyed it.  She gave me tickets for Christmas.  We watch “So You Think You Can Dance” together when it is on.  She knows I love the show, so she bought me tickets to see a real dance performance.  

It was awesome.  The dancers got sweaty.  You could hear them breathing heavy, grunting.  You could hear their feet drag across the stage.  They played cool music.  Some of the music was dudes beat-boxing.  My wife laughed because it reminded her of our little guy.  He likes to drop beats.  He does it in class.  We all refer to it as just another song in the soundtrack of his life.  He sometimes makes me think of the movie “I’m Gonna Git You Sucka.”  He just doesn’t have a band following him.  He does it himself.  So, when my wife said that about the music at the performance, I thought about my son and the movie, and I laughed.  Inside, of course.  

The dancers reminded me that we all have gifts, we all have art.  We want to give it.  We need to give it.  Why else would they spend a Friday night sweaty and panting and jumping around on a stage to an audience that didn’t even all stay around for the second half.  For a paycheck?  Sure, money is good.  We need it to live like everyone else in this country.  But the paycheck is a benefit.  What I watched on that stage reaffirmed what I know to be true: the pursuit of dreams and of passion trumps all else.  All things pale in comparison.  I felt blessed to partake in that gift.

So, thank you to those wonderful dancers in the North Shore Dance Company.  You really made me day.  

And thank you to my beautiful wife for such a thoughtful and meaningful gift.

 On the drive home today, I was thinking about Haiti and how frustrated I feel that I can’t do something tangible, something real, that has to do with healing.  There is going to be so much hurt, so much pain, for months and years to come.  We’ll forget about these people, go on with our lives, and still there will be so much to do.  So, I started crying.  My chest feels like it’s going to explode.  I just feel so connected to this, and I can’t figure out why.

Connected.  Interconnected.  We are all one.  The Dalai Lama wrote about a Buddhist image that illustrates interconnectedness.  Imagine a vast, celestial net.  At the intersection of every rope on the net, there is a jewel.  It’s a pristine, beautiful jewel.  It has many facets, and it reflects everything around it with brilliant clarity.

You are that jewel.

And in you there is the reflection of every other jewel in the net, in the web.

Every single other jewel.

That is interconnectedness.

So, I am going to keep on this path.  My oldest son gave me a Clifford the Big Red dog to send to Haiti.  I have a contact willing to make room for this one dog.  Someone handed me a plush Tigger today.  My mother is sending me a check for $25.  There are orphans arriving in the US, more to come every day.  There were about 400,000 of them in Haiti before this.  

I am just one man.  I can’t save the world, so don’t get pissed at me for not plunging into every cause out there.  If it means that much to you, go do it yourself.  Don’t wait.  Be vital.  Be indispensable.  Save a life.  Change a life.  I’ll do this.  You can join me.  Or you can pick up your own standard.  Or you can ignore me.  

I don’t care.  I have work to do.  I asked God for a miracle.  Then, I realized something…and this comes back to interconnectedness:

We shouldn’t ask FOR a miracle, we should ask to BE a miracle.  Be a miracle, and you will make other people into miracles, too.  We already are.  We just have to realize it.

 Key Performance Indicators.  KPIs.  People who love to measure organizations, processes, and effectiveness adore KPIs.  Simply put, it is the variable that is measured in order to demonstrate success.  That’s my loose definition.  You can do your own research on Google and Wikipedia.

A KPI certainly serves a purpose.  There is value in measurement.  I have friends who spend their careers measuring and staring at KPIs in an effort to demonstrate how good or bad performance is.  A well-defined KPI can tell you exactly how that latest process tweak improved productivity or that cool new internet advertisement increased web traffic to your sales site.  If you can find a thing to measure, tie it to a desired outcome or result, and actually get meaningful data…well, that’s a KPI.

The problem arises when KPIs are applied to the human elements of interactions.  There is no KPI for how much you like someone or how loyal you feel towards a particular brand.  There is no KPI to measure love, and there is no KPI that can detect infidelity.  You can’t read a report to figure out if your best friend is feeling suicidal or if your spouse secretly hates your guts.

Likewise, there isn’t a KPI to tell you how much an employee likes working for you.  There are no KPIs to illustrate just how quickly key members of your team are going to jump ship once the economy improves.  I looked but couldn’t find a KPI to measure how easy it is to strip an employee of their dignity by disrespecting them and treating them like a cog in some giant, oily machine.  No, there are no real KPIs for such things.

Instead, spirit and connection and empathy and the dying art of intuitive action number among the capabilities that, if developed and nurtured, can provide a leader with the power to effect meaningful change.  I’ve never really believed that a statistic or a survey can give you true insight into the shared soul of a group of people.  Only a leader, with eyes wide open, can give that insight.  

How many insightful, empathetic, intuitive, spirited leaders do you know?  There aren’t as many as we would like to think.  Bummer isn’t it?  No wonder our places of work suck.  I wish they would get their acts together.

Sound familiar?  I hope it doesn’t.  If it does, then maybe you’ve pinpointed the source of the real problem.

In my estimation, the question shouldn’t be how many insightful, empathetic, intuitive, spirited leaders do you know?  In my estimation, the far more significant question is how many times have you been that insightful, empathetic, intuitive, spirited leader?

How many times has it been you?  Or…is that not your job?  Is that for somebody else to do?

Your answer to that question can change the world.

Inevitably, you come to this moment when the clouds part, the sun shines through, and the path is illuminated.

Unfortunately, I don’t have my walking shoes.

Well, I do, but I’m feeling a little afraid to put them on.  Or am I?  I mean, I think I should be feeling fear.  That’s what I would normally be feeling.  But…but it’s just not there.  No fear.  Well, how do you like that?

I like it a lot, actually.  Oh, there will be fear again, I am sure.  I am human.  I will doubt.  The tape in my head will play.  My insecurities will pop up.  It happens.  It will happen to you, too, no matter how self-assured you may feel.  Like I said, I’m human.  You’re human.  It is part of the experience, part of the journey.

The trick, see, is to meet the fear.  Embrace it.  Acknowledge it.  Then release it.

Release it?  I’ve written about release before, haven’t I?  Huh.  Maybe there is something to these musings of mine.

You know, Regine laid it out for me: I’m not that young any more.  I’m not old, either, but I’m not that young.  All she meant was that I don’t have to worry about credibility any longer.  That 28-year-old woman wrote a great book, and people read it.  They read it without regard for her age.  Why?  Because she had a message, and it was a good message.  She wrote eloquently, with authority.  Age?  Who cares when there is wisdom to be had?

Me…I’m a bit older than her.  I’ve got something to say, too.  And maybe, just maybe, people will listen.  If they don’t?  Who cares.  I don’t write for them, anyway.  I write for me.  I write for me and for the people who DO listen.  Even if there’s only one other soul reading my writing, it’s worth the time and the effort to put ideas on paper.

Every word, every idea is worth sharing.

Oh yeah…the path is clear.  Screw it.  Who needs shoes?  I’ve got a journey of a thousand miles ahead of me.  I hear those are best started with a single step.

Touchdown! Hello, Chicago!

If you believe that everything happens for a reason, then you could conceivably drive yourself nutty trying to divine all the reasons.  I don’t try too hard.  It can give you a headache.

But sometimes, I can’t help but wonder “why.”  Like…if you did everything you needed to do in order to…say…catch a plane on time.  But a security watch list and whole bunch of other people trying to catch a whole bunch of other flights keep you from getting on the plane.  Then, the next flight out gets delayed an hour.  Then, you get on that flight, and that flight is delayed at the gate another 30 minutes or so.  Finally, you’re up in the air and on your way.  

The first flight made it safely.  Nothing exploded in the sky.  No crashes.  The flight you’re on makes it safely.  You find your suitcase right away.  There were no alien invasions to foil.  Nothing overt to signal why you went through everything you did.  But…

The Universe is far more subtle than we think.  99 out of 100 times, we have no clue what’s going on or why things are actually transpiring they way that they do.  That’s OK.  We don’t need to know all the time.  I think there are things that we should simply accept and with which we should just roll.  Rolling along…

But…I’m human.  I need a little order in my life.  So maybe I imagine a person who was having a horrible day in the seat that should have been mine.  Or maybe I imagine a soldier coming home on leave who was able to get home in time for his mother’s surprise 60th birthday party sitting in that seat that should have been mine.  Or maybe someone was having a great day and making that flight made their life even greater.  I just know SOMEONE benefited immensely from what I went through today.  So, whoever you are, I’m happy to have taken that one for you.

Hypothetically speaking.

I was reminded today that it is our spiritual obligation to love one another with reckless abandon.

I read a post this morning by someone who was honoring a deceased friend.  Mysteriously, it is gone.  I would have copied it or linked to it or something.  But…it’s gone.  The essence of the post was this:

     People just need to love other people.  Period.

We do.  Really.  And nobody will remind you that love is the natural state of being than a child.

This evening, my little guy and I were waiting for my oldest to come out of his karate class.  There was another kid waiting out in the hall.  He was drawing.  His mother was further down the hall on the phone.  I was messing around with my little guy, dancing and jumping around.  He was copying me, so I tried to make it increasingly harder for my son to mimic my footwork.  He did pretty well.  We laughed.  The kid on the floor stopped drawing and started watching us.  He laughed, too.  My little guy noticed him, they exchanged a few glances, said a few things to each other, and then the door opened and kids started trickling out.  

We walked in and gathered up our own karate kid, and, as my oldest was putting his shoes on, my little guy said, “Dad, I have to run outside!  Quick!”

He ran outside, quick.

“What are you DOING?!?!” I called out after him.

He was standing in the hall, looking forlorn.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I had to say good-bye to my friend, but now he’s gone.”

He looked stricken.  I put my arm around him, and, before I could say anything heartfelt and consoling, he was off running and screaming with his brother.

It made me think about that post I read this morning.  My son reminded me that the default state of being for human beings is love.  We want to make connections.  We want to feel closeness.  We want to open our hearts to other people.  We do it effortlessly and selfishly when we are little.

We retain that despite all the ugly stuff that happens over the years.  I know that there are exceptions to the rule.  I’m not that naive.  However, we don’t totally lose it.  What we do it suppress it.  We control it.  We only let it come out under extremely rigid circumstances.  After all, it’s too strong a word to use irresponsibly, isn’t it?

I can think of a lot of other words we toss around with reckless abandon.

Why not love?  Why not love with reckless abandon?

“Not one of us is worth a single cent less today than we were a year ago.” — Rev. Ed Bacon