Author: Ricardo

I watched my kids perform on stage last night. Piano recital. My oldest has been away from piano for several years, focusing on other instruments, and only started taking lessons again about 3 months or so ago. He was the second performer last night. He performed his three pieces beautifully. I was shocked…awed, really, to the point of tears…at how far he has come as a pianist in so short a time. It was a huge leap from the last time he was on that stage, and I couldn’t have been more proud.

My younger one, as it turns out, was the second-to-last soloist last night. A few days earlier, I’d watched him rehearse his piece. The piece he and his instructor chose was the longest, most complex piece he’d tackled to date. He executed flawlessly during rehearsal, but his instructor just felt the piece lacked anything special. They talked about dynamics. “The whole piece is mezzo forte,” he told her. They discussed it some more. In the end, she told him to add dynamics (playing the piece louder or softer during certain section) in the places that made the most sense to him. In the end, she left it up to him, his interpretation of the piece. I had an inkling of where he was taking the piece, but the end result…was stunning. My wife was slack-jawed. She didn’t know about their discussion, so his ownership of the piece was a complete surprise to her.

One of my parents’ siblings is, in essence, dying. His body is simply preparing to shut down. We anticipate a call any day now. The heaviness that comes from such knowledge was in my heart last night as I watched the recital. As my children grow in age, talent, and life experiences, my parents and their contemporaries are entering twilight. The sun is setting for them, and they will continue to lose each other, one by one, until I will finally find myself on that end of the spectrum of life. Life is constant transition, of course, but, for me, this is clearly “a moment”. Perhaps it is simply a moment of recognition, a moment of lucidity and clarity, but it is like a dawning of sorts in direct contrast to that twilight.

It is prudent to not assume that our metaphoric day is long. The truth is that it is short, but it can be even shorter for us than we anticipate or desire. As our calendars transition from 2014 to 2015, take the time to reflect on where you have been, what you have received, and what you desire and intend for the year to come. As Seth Godin recently articulated, if you do not plan for the future, you have already planned.

Just keep that in mind during the transition.

I received a note out of the blue a few weeks ago. It was from someone who I met at work well over a year ago because of a common interest in the work of Eckhart Tolle. We met up in person after some virtual exchanges and quickly became spiritual “peer mentors” to one another. In similar places in our unfolding career stories, we found in each other a person we could trust, who would honor our confidence, and who would gently encourage the best in us. Then my friend left the company, abruptly. She made a courageous leap of faith based on her need to become more of the person she wished to be. The coming months were extremely difficult for her. As a single mother of two and sole provider for her household, the leap was stressful. We’ve kept in touch, and I know her journey has been rough. However, I also know that she is getting ever closer to a place of greater inner peace.

Months had passed since we last spoke when this note came into my inbox. It was an unexpected gift, a note of thanks from my friend. She gave me a Kindle book as thanks for helping her find a job. She’s employed now in a field that I know brings her much more joy than the work she was doing here, where I work. I am sure her other plans continue to evolve, as well. There is something to be said for having the ability to more securely meet our worldly, physical needs!

The gift, though, wasn’t the book. It was the thanks I received for helping her. You see, I simply made a connection between her and someone else I barely know, and that connection led to this opportunity for my friend. This other person, the one I barely know, is someone who happens to have been a potential contact for her in her new field. In simplest terms, he is the only person I knew in an adjacent field, so I introduced them, virtually. That’s it. The rest…the rest was born from her capabilities and this other person’s generosity. I met him only once, and I’ve exchanged a handful of email with him. What I saw in him was a generous human being with a passion for and focus on helping others.

I made a connection, but the true, unexpected gift came from the validation that nudging others, even if in seemingly small ways, can have deep and meaningful impact to those you choose to serve. With no motivation other than helping out a friend, I got a book in the process, too. Life affirmation and something uplifting to read…not a bad way to wind down the year!

In your life, there are undoubtedly opportunities to serve and nudge in the smallest ways. Seize those opportunities! Gratitude will find you.

Dream. Dream big. Dream anything. Write it down on paper. You now have a record of the dream.

I can’t interpret your dream. I’m not a psychologist or astrologist or tea-leaf-reader-ologist. You can use a phone book or head to your favorite bookstore for resources on how to do that. I mean, I can try. I can tell you what I think, but I wouldn’t exactly put a lot of stock in my interpretation.

What I can do is help translate your dream. In fact, you can do that yourself. You don’t necessarily need someone like me to do the translation (although a nice nudge is always helpful!). When it comes to translating dreams, what matters most is turning the ephemeral into the Earthly. And that, believe it or not, does not require magic.

A dream is a thought. It’s abstract. It doesn’t exist in the physical world. It isn’t a real thing until you make it a real thing. The easiest way to do that is to write your dream down on paper. And I’m not talking about whacked-out dreams about soaring through the air or dreams in which you talk to the pets of deceased historical figures. I’m talking about the kinds of dreams wherein you imagine something bright and wonderful for your future, something that can actually happen in the world ruled by physics and other laws of nature. Write that dream down.

Congratulations. You’ve given form to the formless. Now it can’t just evaporate.

A dream on paper is a goal. A goal is an objective, right? Something to which one can aspire and work toward. A goal is also a destination. You get to any destination by traveling. You travel by planning and then executing. Travel, all travel, begins with the first step. A step can also be regarded as a task. A task is simply something that you do. Hit or miss, achieve or fail, it doesn’t matter. Once you’ve got a task identified, you can begin to see the way towards your destination, your goal, your objective. Your dream.

I know it’s not that simple, but…well, yes, it is that simple. Simple doesn’t mean easy, mind you. It just means that it’s not nearly as complicated as we convince ourselves it is before we ever even start. Don’t do yourself wrong that way…don’t sell yourself short. Stopping before you ever start simply because you’re afraid is a tragedy. It’s self-inflicted cruelty. Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t do that to your dreams. Give them a chance to live or die on their own merit, on the basis of your abilities.

Translate your dreams into goals, and don’t be afraid to follow the steps required to achieve those goals.

Did you take any psych classes? I took a child psych class that left an impression on me. I had some startling revelations about myself and the nature of humanity. The software that runs on our hardware..abso-effin-lutely amazing. Cognitive development, language acquisition, acculturation…I studied all of it with gusto because of that stupid child psych class. One of the things I realized is that we are, on a daily basis, locked in an internal battle against biology. It is in many ways a literal fight between the human and the animal that make up our physical and cognitive being. You feel it, don’t you? You know what I’m talking about. Every single-dingle day. We strive to be something more than the naked apes that Desmond Morris revealed to us.

While doing biology homework the other day, my son came to the realization that we exist primarily as conduits for future generations. He told me that the whole point of life is to have babies so that the species doesn’t die out. It wasn’t a statement about his philosophy on life as much as it was a question. I think he wanted reassurance that this nascent concept developing in his mind couldn’t possible be true. “That’s correct,” I said. “We eat, sleep, and fight to stay alive just so we can create the next round of human beings.” He stared at me, obviously hoping for something more. And there was. “That’s the animal part of us,” I told him. “The human part, the magical thing that you can’t observe under a microscope or in a fancy machine…that part exists for another reason.” He was quiet for a moment. “Why?” he asked. “That’s the question, son,” was my response. “That’s the question. And you’ll spend the rest of your life exploring it.” I would have handed him my old copy of Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, but I’ll save that for another plane of development.

I believe purpose is at the center of everything. It drives everything we do, fuels all of our hopes and dreams, ignites our passions and ambitions. The only thing I concern myself with these days is articulating everything in terms of purpose. Companies offer many things to employees, but all of those things are cooked up by soft, squishy people just like me and you. “The Company” is a legal entity. In the end, people make the decisions.

We might not always see it or understand it, but everything that anyone builds, literal or figurative, is an outward manifestation of the inward. Take any corporate vision or purpose statement as an example. It’s as much about a CEO’s desire to make the company great as it is his or her desire to leave a great legacy. The CEO seeks meaning and purpose, and everything they do is colored by that. It’s the same for me, and it’s the same for you. You want to do great work, work at a great place, make great friends, eat great food, have a great time…all kinds of great things. How you define greatness and how you achieve it…that comes from your purpose. Purpose is at the center of everything.

So, in the corporate work I do, I aim to make sense of things like vision statements and leadership philosophies to discern where purpose manifests itself in each thing leaders are telling people is important. If I can find those pathways and illuminate them with the light of purpose, then perhaps I will have done something worthwhile with my time.

I have demons. Lots of them. I suspect you’ve got some yourself.

A wise leader once told me to demystify the process so that those I lead could better understand all the seemingly mysterious processes that run in the background of any organization. It was one of the best pieces of advice I ever got as a leader. The best part was that this leader modeled the behavior by doing the very thing he talked about. That’s a huge motivator, and most leaders underestimate (if they estimate at all) how vital a component that kind of modeling is to the health of the organization they lead. And the people…it’s healthy for the people involved up and down the organization.

I think it’s useful to demystify this idea of demons. The demons that haunt our lives, at least the type about which I am writing, are largely the byproducts of our own life experiences. To take them out of the realm of ethereal fantasy and into the light of reality, they need names. Name your demons. It doesn’t matter what you call them, just call them out. Identify them. Label them. Once you do that, you can begin to relate to them. Relating to them is the first step in neutralizing them. And that’s all you should really hope to do: neutralize them. Don’t shoot for eliminating them because they come from you and are a part of you. Excising them is nearly impossible. Exorcizing them is best left to actors on film. If you can manage to neutralize them, then I think you’ve done pretty well.

There is a reason to name and identify with the demons that vex you. Once identified and name, the things that haunt you can then be addressed. And by “addressed”, I mean spoken to. That’s right. You’re going to speak to your demons at some point. Maybe not quite yet, but you’ll get to the point where you can and will address them. Literally. As in, you are going to talk to them out loud, so you can hear what you say to them. Sounds kinda weird, doesn’t it? Maybe so, but you’ll get even weirder once you’ve taken to speaking to them. The next step is to listen to then speak to you.

Yes, you’re going to listen to them. And they are going to talk to you. You might wonder how that’s going to happen if they are not of the physical plane, if they are manifestations of the machinations of your psyche. It’s simple: you are going to be their voice. You will speak for them. Out loud. You’ll give them a voice and give them an audience. You will speak and listen at the same time. In the process, you will learn.

Interested? I can show you how to do it.

One of the problems with the blank slate is that there is nothing on it.  We look at it and feel daunted because it’s blank.  Whether literal or figurative, the blank slate or canvas is a great big chunk of absolutely nothing with the potential for absolutely anything.  How on Earth are you supposed to choose what to put on it?

The blank slate isn’t actually blank.  It’s filled with the endless possibilities that the artist, author, or innovator can imagine.  That’s the key to understanding why it overwhelms the senses and can lead to sensory overload.  It’s not the absence that gets us; it’s the abundance that threatens to bury us.  In fact, painted on the surface of every seemingly blank slate is the years of baggage, conscious or unconscious, that the artist and their audience bring with them.  When there is nothing, our minds have to option but to fill the space.  The blank slate scares us because it holds the very best that we can dream up.  And dreams are scary business.

It has been said that Michelangelo claimed not to manipulate marble to fit his vision but to use the hammer and chisel to free the sculpture that was imprisoned in the stone.  Stephen King claims to channel the stories he writes down, not to invent them himself.  He is more biographer and historian than creator of fictional adventures.  In the same vein, the blank slate is merely the surface on to which we project our knowledge and experiences, filtered through the objective of some project or intended outcome.  It is the space upon which display for all the world to see that which we have to offer.

That is why we fear it.  That is why we shy away from it.  That is why we leave it blank.

To put something upon the slate is to open ourselves up to scrutiny.  Why take such a risk?  Why bother sharing when we know so many will seek to tear down that which we proffer to them in good faith?

To me the answer is simple: to do anything that fill up the slate requires us to deny a vital piece of ourselves.  It is cruel and heartless punishment that we willingly inflict upon ourselves.  We deny the best  of us the best that the world has to offer because we fear the worst.  We anticipate failure and rejection.  We envision our dreams being crushed.  We daydream our hopes being dashed.  We look to the future, fear the negative outcomes, and give up the tiniest hope that things can turn out in our favor.  It is sad, and it is true.

If there is a dream inside of you, dare to dream it, and dare to bring it to the world.  Far better for them to die fighting in life than for them to die languishing and withering in darkness.

I firmly believe that the term “nothing short of amazing” applies to each and every person on the planet we call Earth. At minimum, the potential for amazing exists. The problem is that we fail to see the amazing inside of ourselves. Even worse, we cannot believe that anyone would see us that way even if we could see it inside of ourselves. We don’t even dare to dream it.

The truth, though, is that what other people see is what we radiate. If we don’t dare to dream of ourselves as nothing short of amazing, then nobody will see us that way. It’s impossible. I’m not talking about blind, over-confident arrogance. I’m talking about the recognition that we are capable of great things, of knocking the socks off other people, of bringing enough light into the world to lessen the shadows around us. Radiating in this manner does not require a dream so big that it will crack open the world. No, it just requires enough self-confidence and enough self-love to know that we can amaze other people.

I got the external validation yesterday, a simple and kind comment from someone whose day was changed because of something simple that I did for them, and it meant the world to me. It filled me with light and joy not because it was validation. It was validation only upon contemplating the act hours later. I was moved because of the warmth I received as a result of a simple act of generosity. I just wanted her to have one less thing to worry about. That’s it. In response, I received, “You are amazing!” With that one sentence, she returned to me as much as I’d given to her. Funny how the unintentional consequences of our actions reveal themselves to us.

Aspire to “amazing” but find it in the smallest places. When openly and genuinely given, any gift can blossom into nothing short of amazing.

Transitions are great.  They mean that new things are on the horizon.  They can also be challenging…even frightening…because…well…new things are on the horizon.  “New” can be glitchy.  I am trying something new.  I’m building towards it, actually.  New and exciting and a tad frightening.  The great thing is that through this transition, I can bring something new into the world.  I can take what I like from the old, too, and bring it with me.  I just need my old to merge with my new.  Should be a challenge.

Transitions, some time off, and the overall need to recharge have kept me away.  Away was fine, while it lasted, because I think away was necessary.  I don’t want to be away any more.  What not being away means…in other words, being present…remains to be seen, at least within the context of my life, my work, and my need to create, my need to connect, and my need to create connections for others.  

Out with the old, then, through the transition, and in with the new.  Here’s hoping that others will join me.

I was struck by a recent post by Seth Godin (The bottomless pit of pleasing strangers ), specifically the idea behind the phrase “it’s not for you”.  It’s not uncommon for something that Seth writes to get me waxing philosophical.

I do what I do, I act the way I act, and I am moved to do the work I do for reasons that are my own.  Logical.  It took me quite some time to become comfortable with the idea, though, that not everyone is going to embrace this idea or the beliefs that drive and motivate me.  Growing up in a corporate environment at a very large company, it’s difficult to embrace the idea.  It’s hard to say, in regards to everything about me, “it’s not for you.”  But I embrace that now.  It’s easy for me to say, “it’s not for you”…because it’s not.  At least not for everyone.  For some, it’s definitely for you.

To me, this is the essence of the tango we dance when who we are outside of work and who we perceive ourselves as having to be at work are not as aligned as we would like them to be.  My son wants to be a pilot.  Can he be a pilot for a major airline?  Sure.  He also wants to continue playing tuba.  He’d be happy making money doing both or making money doing one while doing the other as a passion hobby.  Even though he is still young, I think he has the right perception of what his future can be.  However, can he be a pilot at a major airline and be a successful musician?  I don’t know.  Something tells me that the balance between the two would be difficult to maintain.  Similarly, if who we are is too far off from the demands of our work, then we’re in for some trouble.

So, I think it is best to keep the selves aligned.  It would be best to not have “selves”, but the reality is that we are constantly, and appropriately, adjusting our behavior and the parts of our persona that we show to others within the context of the audience and the moment.  I don’t find anything wrong with this, as long as it does not create that dissonance.  Within the context of our world of work, it is better to say, “It’s not for you,” than it is to attempt to say, “I’ve got exactly what you need!” to too many people for whom that statement is simply not the truth.

Time passes so quickly, but I often wonder if it really slips away or if we choose to let it go. I suspect it is as much the latter as it is anything else. In the end, the atomic clock ticks away at a consistent pace. All that varies is perception based on attribution.