Author: Ricardo

Marketing is not my profession, but I engage in marketing all the time. As a formal leader of people in a corporate environment, my job is to sell things to be people. I sell direction. I sell corporate visions and missions. I sell buy-in to the work that must be done, not just the side projects people want to do. I sell them on careers. I sell them the notion that they can be much more than anyone has ever told them they can be. In the end, I sell ideas.

I have been listening to A LOT of marketing the past week or so.  I am listening to marketing from behind the scenes; I am listening to marketers talk about marketing.  It’s fascinating.  In the process, I have learned that what they do and what I do in many ways is not that drastically different.  It goes back to selling ideas.

Ideas are powerful.  I can’t recall when it started, but one of my father’s favorite lines is “reality is perception.”  I couldn’t agree more.  And it’s this perceived reality that is at the core of both marketing and leading other people.  They create a perception that what they want to sell, you need, and leaders create the perception that where they want to take you, you really need to go.

I am enthralled…that’s all I can say. 

Water from the sky
Is it snowing in April? 
Motherf*****g Illinois weather.

OK, so I got the count wrong there at the end.  Sue me.

I can’t believe this shit.  Then again, it’s a blessing to have such trivial concerns, isn’t it?

I’ll count my blessings as I shiver in my bed.

 There are many hours in the day.  Yet each day feels so short.  As many hours as there are, there seldom appears to be enough.

It’s next to impossible for me to keep up with my real life and my online life.  As much as I’d love to put more time into some of the cool things that exist in the ether, I simply can’t.  It’s a matter of figuring out where I need to focus my time.  I choose to focus my time on my real life.  My kids, if nothing else, sort of demand that.  No, they deserve that.

I will say this.  While I might not always have the time to read everything I want to read or respond to it all, I am out there looking as often as I can be.  The beauty of modern technology and socializing on the internet is that communication can be asynchronous.  This works out just dandy if the recipient is down with the delayed, asynchronous style.  At work, people expect you to answer E-mail quicker than voicemail.  And, honestly, it often works that way.  Clickety-clackety at the keyboard is quicker, cleaner, and less personal, but it also avoids the stuff that crops up when people actually talk to each other.  Networking on the internet is different; the expectation isn’t for immediate response.  That works in my favor.

So, if I seem to be a bit…disconnected…it’s simply because I haven’t perfected the art of balancing the ether with the material world.  There’s just way too much to do in both, and far too few hours in which to accomplish it all.  The “real world” requires synchronized, real-time communication.  The world of the ether accepts asynchronous, delayed communication.  Between the two, I keep myself busy.  Thank goodness I don’t have a hobby!

I’ve had the opportunity to reflect a great deal about what it means to be a part of something, what it means to belong.  I’ve come to the conclusion that, as is the case with so many other things, the answer is always in motion.

Consider this.  Not only do we change our allegiances many times throughout the course of our lives, many of us do so in short-term bursts.  We participate in temporary endeavors with others at work, for example, that require our loyalty and engagement over a short period of time.  In contrast, we participate in social organizations such as church for decades.  We can measures attachment to these groups in hours, days, months, even years.

I suppose it comes down to how much priority we place on bond and how intimate the commitment to that bond.  That is what determines what we do with our memberships. Each serves a purpose.  Each helps us define who we are relative to others and relative to our own changing self concept.  They help us answer the question:

Where do I belong?

This has been a long week at work. My patience has been tried quite a bit.

Today, I glanced over at that stack of Eckhart Tolle cards that I got earlier this year. It had a long quote, but the message was one I got loud and clear: when you allow yourself to be still, you can feel the life inside your body.

I know. It sounds so…out there, so Earthy. Yeah, well, I can be a little Earthy some times. Apparently, not enough, though, because just the words were enough to instantly connect me to the Life Force inside of me. I allowed myself to feel it, to get drawn into it. It took me over. I felt the energy buzzing through my body almost instantly. I had not allowed myself to feel that connection…in a long time. Probably since last summer in Alaska. The presence of Life is so overwhelming there that it was simple to connect to it, both outside of me and inside of me.

Here…not so easy.  It takes a little more effort, a little more time to make that connection.  I guess I let that get away from me.  If you want to get a sense of what I am talking about, try it for yourself.  Start by closing your eyes.  Sit comfortably.  Let your body relax.  Let your hands fall into your lap.  Begin to focus on the feeling in your hands.  Not the feeling OF your hands, but the feeling IN your hands.  It’s like a subtle tingle, a constant feeling that grows the more you concentrate on it.  You should be able to feel it spread from individual fingers to your entire hand, like submerging your hands in warm water.

That’s is the feeling of life in your hands.  You can start there.

Feel the life in your body.

Someone asked a question about leading people through change, and I went off. In a good way, of course.

Here’s the bottom line: we can’t do things in a vacuum and expect those we lead to simply follow. The world is transforming, and we are leaving that mentality behind. It isn’t the way to generate true passion and realize the potential of those we lead. It just isn’t.

We have to engage people and ask them to take accountability for the end result. More importantly, we have to entrust them with that end result. At some point, every parent has no choice but to watch their child drive off into the sunset. You either help them prepare for that or you fight them every step of the way. You either give them opportunities to learn how to screw up and recover when they are small and the consequences are minimal or you continue paying their bills, giving them “loans,” and digging them out of holes well into their adulthood. Without that line of sight to consequences, the word “accountability” means nothing.

Incongruence bugs me, and incongruence of mythic proportions bugs the crap out of me. Teach the people to fish, for Pete’s sake.

When I was young, probably about 6 years old or so, we lived in a heavily forested area. We lived towards the bottom of a rather large, tree-covered hill. Our back yard was sizable, and it sloped steeply downward. At the bottom of the slope, where the ground started to level, there was a wall of trees. These trees were old. They were very old. Like I said, we lived in what I imagine was a very old forest.

There was a path at the bottom of the hill that was little more than a crack in the wall. The path lead through the trees for several yards before leading to the banks of a large lake. At the end of the path, where forest and lake met, there was a white wooden dock.

I learned to fish off that dock. I learned to stick a worm on a hook on that dock. I learned to swim off that dock. I learned about fresh water ecosystems on that dock. I saw my very first crayfish on that dock. I saw my very first catfish on that dock. I saw my first otter on that dock. I played with frogs on that dock. I dropped nightcrawlers off that dock. I studied the forest from that dock. I ran my hands on the cool bark of a weeping willow beside that dock. I watched my brother kiss a girl from that dock. I watched my mother playing with my little brother in the water from that dock. I watched my father jump off that dock, into the lake, and swim out to his boat. My grandfather told me to “watch out for the cat crap” steps away from that dock.

When I was six years old, there were few things more awe-inspiring to me than that dock. The possibilities it presented were endless. When we moved away…far, far away to another country…the path and that dock occupied my thoughts for many years. Eventually, the dock became a distant childhood memory. However, I never forgot the lessons I learned on that dock. Even when I think about it today, that place holds special meaning for me.

A few years ago, I went back to that lake with my wife. 25 years had passed. The path was gone. All the trees had been removed. The yard runs down to the lake’s edge now. The dock, though, is still there. Just as I remember it. That willow is there, too. I took my wife and my then-infant son to the dock. I stood there with them for a few minutes. I shared a few memories. We talked. But I took a few seconds for myself, to BE there on that dock again. I looked out over the lake, and a breeze moved little waves across its face. My father’s boat is gone, of course, but the memory of riding around on the lake remains. In my mind’s eye, I imagined the boat gliding over the water and slipping beside the dock. I looked into the clear water and saw a group of perch just below the surface, looking up eagerly. I smiled. They couldn’t be the same ones that ate the nightcrawlers I dropped in…could they? Of course not. But I imagined another little boy, maybe around six years old, coming to this dock with a can of worms. I imagined him dropping nightcrawlers, one by one, into the water and watching the fish dart up to eat them. Maybe he wears glasses.

I left and joined my wife and son in the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. We drove away.

Our minds are filled with memories. Some, we revisit often. Others, we hardly recall. Regardless, they are all there. They mean different things to us at different moments. While I am not six years old any longer, there is a corner of my mind that is occupied by a six-year-old boy with glasses two sizes too big. He is a part of who I am today. He makes sure that there is always an awe-inspiring dock in my life. It’s just a matter of listening to him when he points them out. Listening and letting him take the reigns from time to time.

The dock will always be there, no matter where I go.

In order to travel at the speed of light you must become light.

Or so I hear. Theoretically, it is impossible for anything other than light to travel at the speed of light. At least I recall reading that somewhere. The logic is that it takes so much energy to travel at light speed that you actually have to BE energy in the form of light. I have to admit, I am a bit rusty when it comes to physics, so I am sure that someone somewhere is laughing at what an idiot I am.

Laughter aside, there is an analogy here, and I am going to use it. It is quite simple: if to travel as light you must become light, then to have the properties of something, you must become that thing. For example, to have the properties of a successful individual, I must become a successful individual. Or, to have the properties of a millionaire, I must become a millionaire. It is pointless, fruitless, and joyless to mimic the properties of a thing and not BECOME that thing. Subluminal travel? Pffft! Why bother? Where is the joy in that? It must be luminal or supraluminal travel! You might as well settle for a trans-warp drive that only approximates supraluminal flight! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Ha.

See, this world is filled with people who are attempting to mimic the properties of the rich-n-famous or the famously-happy or the happily-enchanted. But they do so without believing that they really ARE these things. Thus, they are not. And that invites misery. I meet these people all the time. They are unhappy. It often shows. And it often rubs off on you if you let it.

Right now, I need to go upstairs and apologize to my wife. Why? Because I allowed myself to be an unhappy person and direct that unhappiness at her. I suspect she will forgive me, but maybe one day she won’t. Maybe one day I will push her so far that something will break. Maybe she won’t leave me, but she’ll LEAVE me, if you get my drift. How tragically sad would that be? Personally, I think very. I am sure she would agree.

Tomorrow, I have to get up butt-ass early and go to work. Why? Because I would like to keep my job. I can choose to go to work unhappy and cranky because of the butt-ass earliness, but I can also choose to go to work happy and anti-cranky because I have a plethora of marvelous things for which to be grateful. I can engage the people around me at my place of work, get stuff done, and do it all with a smile and a wink for all! And why the heck not? After all, if I push my employer…well, won’t they just leave me, too? Like boot me out the door? Worse yet, maybe I will leave in that “not really leave” sense but in that “oh my God, there goes his soul” sense. How tragically sad would that be? Personally, I think very. I am sure my employer would agree.

I wish to have the properties of light. Thus, I must become LIGHT.

I’m going to do something different. I came up with the idea a few weeks ago, but I’ve been hemming and hawing. Today, I decided I am going to do it.

Tomorrow, I am going to see if anyone at work is interested in building a community. Nothing official, nothing Earth-shattering. Just a bona fide attempt to get people together to think about how to work differently. Maybe we’ll work better. Maybe we’ll just find a way to be more human at work and support one another.

What will happen? Who knows?

I think I’ll try to find out, though.

If there is a better way, why haven’t things changed? If we know there is a problem, why haven’t things changed? If there are options out there that work, why haven’t things changed? If we all agree that something has to change, why haven’t things changed? If there are so many people who feel passionately about change, why haven’t things changed?

Why? Because it would require all of us to admit that the way we were raised wasn’t the best way.

So what? A slight injury to your ego is a price I am willing to pay if it means that something fundamental in America might change.

The world would be a different place if children were raised to lead, not to simply follow.

Where do we begin?