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 What an odd juxtaposition of concepts today.

First, I took the day off from work.  My wife and I went to visit our kids’ school.  It was another one of those observation days when we get to spend some time in each child’s class simply observing the daily environment.  Most of the kids are pretty good about ignoring the parents sitting in the corner watching.  Some stare for a minute or two.  Others whisper to one another.  Mostly, though, they forget you are there and go about their business.  So, you get to watch them at work in their world.  It’s always interesting, and with increasing frequency, it provides for a nice, silent bonding moment with our children.  I wish every parent could have this gift.  I wish every school was set up to allow parents to become active participants in the school lives of their children.

I also took the day off to being what I have begun to think of as “The Great Purge.”  No, we are not preparing to hunt Jedi as a means of serving Emperor Palpatine.  Instead, we are beginning a Great Purge in our home.  It is one that I hope will lead us to shed much of the material debris that weighs us down physically, spiritually, and emotionally.  Peter Walsh calls it “cluddah;” Eckhart Tolle refers to it as “the world of form;” and HH Dalai Lama uses the term “material things.”  They are all speaking about the same thing, and what they are talking about us the collection of stuff that we accumulate through the years of our lives.  The “why” behind the stuff…the very personal reasons we decide to keep this thing or that thing…is fascinating to me.  The more I ask myself that question, the more I learn about myself and the nature of spirituality itself.  The connection between what we collect around us and what we collect inside of us is startling.  I am only now just beginning to understand it.  We will see where this Great Purge will lead.

And then there was “Who Do You Think You Are?” which is a new NBC series that chronicles the journeys of various famous people as they learn about their ancestry.  While the premise sounds a bit self-indulgent on the part of Hollywood, there is a central theme that is apparent to me.  It is one that I just heard a few days ago, in another form, while listening to the audiobook version of “The Power of Now” by Eckhart Tolle.  The theme is this: those who have come before us…our ancestors…have the power to speak to us.  What they say to us affects how we perceive ourselves today.  Or at least the potential for such shifts in self-perception exist.  Whether you believe these ancestors literally speak to us, in hushed whispers or through artifacts that we “happen” to find, doesn’t seem as relevant as whether or not you believe that it is possible for the emotions and burdens of past generations to be passed down to those who are living today.  It’s a fascinating idea, and the explanations don’t have to be metaphysical in nature.  It is possible that culture and the sub-culture of our own families can perpetuate the way we experience emotion, deal with adversity, and even view the Universe in general.  It could all be psychological.  Or, as some suggest, there is spiritual energy that we hand down to one another through the ages.  

I woke up today disoriented because it was Friday, and I wasn’t going to work.  I prepare for bed today disoriented because I cannot figure out if I am headed down a path that will disassociate me from some some connection to the past or one that will just result in my having less crap in my house.  Heck of a range of possibilities, huh?

Starting is actually not the hard part.  Starting is easy.  It doesn’t take much to start.  It’s finishing…finishing is the hard part.  At least that’s how it works for me.  My experience interacting with other human beings over the years has proven to me that most people have the opposite issue; for most, I believe, starting is, indeed, the hard part.  I used to think not being able to finish was worse.  Now, I recognize it’s just a matter of perspective…like all things.  After all, our problems are the biggest problems in the world because they are closest to us, no?  That’s another rant, though.

It is easy to ignite a fire.  Trust me.  I have experience with starting fires, lots of experience.  Just ask Sergio.  He’ll tell you.  The number of times that the two of us avoided serious injury…I can’t count.  Like the time we were in…I can’t believe I’m typing this…a closet, pouring alcohol into a dish and lighting it in the dark.  Yes, we were in a storage closet under the stairs in his parents house.  Naturally, it’s the closet where his parents stored ALL THEIR OLD NEWSPAPERS.  Those are the best closets in which to start fires.  We controlled those fires, of course.  Since we were…oh, I don’t know…TWELVE…we knew everything there was to know about controlling fire.  We did a pretty good job of it, too, for a while.  Everything was going well until one of us boneheads decided to pour more alcohol into the dish…in the dark…while the dish was ON FIRE.  Yeah, that pretty much was a bad idea.  Something in Sergio’s gut probably screamed out to him because he said, “Uh…maybe we shouldn’t…”  His words were drowned out by our physics lesson.

We both watched in bewilderment as the fire sort of trotted up the flowing alcohol and right into the bottle.  Did you know that apart from being flammable, rubbing alcohol is explosive?  Luckily for me, the alcohol was still flowing, so it exploded outward, through the mouth of the bottle.  If you’ve ever abruptly squeezed a plastic juice bottle, you get the gist of how the liquid shot out.  Unluckily for Sergio, he was sitting pretty much sitting in front of the stack of newspapers, holding the bottle of alcohol.  His eyes were as big as saucers.  I suspect mine were, too.  At that point it occurred to me that I could actually see Sergio’s face in what should have otherwise been pitch black darkness.  Then I noticed that every stack of newspaper was alight with the bluish glow of burning alcohol.

Sergio and I both screamed.  I don’t know what we said.  Maybe we didn’t say anything coherent, instead reverting to some sort of prehistoric, early human howls of terrors.  Sergio managed to open the door and disappeared into the laundry room.  I ran into his bathroom and grabbed a glass of water.  I ran back into the closet and poured the water into the dish.  Hooray.  One fire out.  Meanwhile, the alcohol burned off the newspapers, and some of them started to actually catch.  His father’s work boots were aflame, as were other assorted pieces of footwear.  I recall thinking something along the lines of, “HOLYFUCKINGSHITWE’REFUCKINGSCREWED” when Sergio returned…with a bucket.

He doused the flames.  He turned and looked at me, triumphant.

“Uh…Serge…?”  I said.  “Your hand is on fire.”

A hand soaked in alcohol can burn for quite some time.  If you’re lucky, enough alcohol means you won’t char your skin.  The way I remember it, Sergio’s hands were tender and smooth for a few days after that, but nothing worse.

There was also the time we were on balcony off Sergio’s brother’s room one night with yet ANOTHER dish of alcohol, burning things.  We sat outside, happy as two arsonists with flamethrowers, when Sergio said, “Oh shit, Ric!  I just knocked over the bottle of alcohol!”  It was as if Mother Nature herself heard us for not a moment later, the wind shifted in impossible ways and sent one lone flame dancing off the dish.  She merely caressed the spreading pool of alcohol.

“FFFWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHHH!!!”

That’s the sound of a wall of fire appearing out of nowhere.  I think that time it was my turn to get the water.  I can’t recall.  I lost count.

I don’t have a problem starting things.  Starting is like igniting a fire.  Finishing…different story for me.  Finishing is like finding the right amount of water to douse the flames.  OK, bad analogy.  Finishing is finishing.  It’s very final.  It’s very scary.  It’s very dangerous.  As long as you are in the middle of it, you can’t be judged.  You can’t be blamed for not meeting expectations if you haven’t even put on the finishing touches.  Surely, it’s unfair to look at an unfinished anything and judge it, right?  So, as long as I haven’t finished, you can’t judge.  Not that you’d judge me nearly as harshly as I would.  That’s another rant, though.

Finishing is about letting go, about walking away, about starting the next thing.  It’s about busting open another bottle of alcohol and finding a box of matches.  What do I burn next?

My youngest read his very first book on Saturday. It’s hard to believe that the baby of the family is already reading. Some day, maybe he’ll read the stuff I’m reading! Speaking of which…

At the beginning of the year, I read “Linchpin” by Seth Godin. My journey through the book was life-changing. It came on the heels of a transformational experience, so the book was the icing on a cake that shifted all of my life-paradigms. Last week, I finished “Drive” by Daniel Pink. Sheesh. I thought I was done with all the transforming. My only conclusion after reading “Drive” is that Mr. Pink and Mr. Godin are involved in a conspiracy to unleash terrible powers of creativity upon the unconscious status quo! Conspiracy, I tell you! There is no other word for it!

I guess which book is a companion for the other is a matter of which book you read first. Regardless, there’s no denying that the two books build upon each other in eerie and uncanny ways. Although I’ve already it twice, I think I have to read “Linchpin” a third time after having read “Drive.” And, I am sure, once I do that, I’ll want to read “Drive” again. With each pass of “Linchpin,” my level and depth of understanding, insight, and reflection increases, and I definitely feel that having read “Linchpin” helped me appreciate “Drive” in ways that would not have been possible without it rattling around in my brain.

I’m not here to write a full-on review of “Drive.” I am here to tell you that, if Seth opened your eyes to why YOU have to change, Daniel will open your eyes as to how you can help nudge others towards that same change. They cover a lot of the same ground, but they provide different perspectives on the implications. For example, they both discuss how the conventional education system in the United States promotes and instills certain kinds of behaviors, but the reason they expose this truth is different. For Seth, it’s about overcoming the lizard brain. For Daniel, it’s about motivating others in an effort to help them overcome the limitations of their lizard brain. On their own, each perspective is fascinating and full of more than one “a-ha” moment. When you consider both together, you gain a more complete picture of the issue, making way for some truly profound, life-shifting moments.

I’m reading a few books right now. Among them is “The Leader’s Way” by HH Dalai Lama and Laurens van den Muyzenberg. The book is written in an interesting style. As opposed to some of the other book collaborations in which the Dalai Lama has been involved, this book reads less like an interview and more like a conversation. Often, the Dalai Lama’s book collaborators write about a thesis or central idea on their own, then add in details about discussions they have had with His Holiness on that and other topics. The books come across as written by the collaborating author with supporting comments from the Dalai Lama. “The Leader’s Way” is different. It comes across as a series of 2-part meditations on topics that form a sort of central outline. Each part is an essay written by Laurens and by the Dalai Lama, alternatively. It’s incredibly effective in presenting two very different points of view on the same subjects.

I bring this style up because, in my mind, this is the next logical step for Seth and Daniel. I would LOVE to read a book written in this style by these two authors. A Godin-Pink collaboration…wow. I’m not sure if the world could handle it! There is too much to consider in this world already without the two of these guys building a compelling argument for change TOGETHER! “What Matters Now” makes it obvious that Seth could propose this kind of exploration with just about anyone. Think about how cool a book written by Seth to which different authors and thinkers respond, section by section, would be. My brain aches just considering the possibilities…

In the absence of an overt collaboration, you’ll have to settle for the conspiracy version. Go read “Drive” after you’ve read “Linchpin,” then go read “Linchpin” again. You’ll thank me for the suggestion. And when you’re ready for the inspiration to make figurative windmills out of garbage, read “The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind” by William Kamkwamba. You’ll thank me for that, too.

 Literally?  Up to you.  

Figuratively?  For sure.  And this is all I am talking about: embrace the moment.

Embracing the moment means embracing the ideas of those around you in an effort to understand other points of view.  Embrace arguments, even if you are sure you are right and they are wrong.  Embrace the dumb ideas.  Embrace the possibilities.  Embrace other perspective, genuinely, and you will open hearts as well as minds.  If your beliefs are strong, there is nothing to be lost by embracing the beliefs in the moment.  Nothing can come from them but understanding.

After all, every embrace must end.

And when you are done embracing…well, what you do next is up to you.  However, the mere act of embracing will inevitably change your world view, even if just a little.  And the mere act of embracing might just change another world view, even if just a little.  You see, by choosing to care enough about others to hear them out, you deflate the resistance that might have otherwise been put in your way, even if just a little.  Or a lot.

Listen.  Embrace.  Open doors that would have otherwise been closed.

 I find that there is one essential first step to any meaningful interaction with another human being: listening.  Talking is good.  It helps establish that you are among the living and interesting in engaging the other person, but listening is really where it is at.  I find a good into is crucial.  Something about what you do for a living or how you do what you do is a good way to start.  Get them interested.  Once you do, turn the table on them.  Switch it up and let them know that YOU are interested in THEM.  Then, listen.

Listen.

That’s “Step 1” to drawing someone into your world.  A good friend of mine wrote in his book that your intro…your personal brand, if you will…is what you use to connect someone to your purpose and make them a part of your story.  That’s right; your story.  You can substitute “story” for “journey” or “adventure” or “life.”  Or maybe it’s your own personal train wreck.  Regardless, once you get someone engaged, you are free to exercise that mighty first step, listening.

Listening is tricky.  Sometimes, you just want to jump in there and offer your few cents.  I’m as guilty of it as anyone.  Sometimes, I feel compelled to keep the conversation moving.  Other times, I want to demonstrate how clever I am.  And there’s always the burning desire to offer your opinion.  At a cocktail part or a mixer, that might work out OK.  After all, chances are you’re just shooting for the casual, superficial conversation.  Or maybe you’re not.  Either way, in social situations, you’re probably only going to go so deep.  But…what about those other times?  You know, those times when you want to make a real connection?  Or those times when you want to help someone out when they are struggling?  

Listening opens doors.  Often, the solution to a problem is hidden within the problem statement itself.  If not in the problem statement, then in an explanation of the details of the problem.  When you get someone talking and resist the urge to interrupt, you create a space that allows the individual to begin exploring their own hidden solutions.  My experience has been that there are very few people walking around with a problem for which they have not already envisioned a dozen different solutions.  What they need is an opportunity to hear themselves think.  They need an opportunity to develop their ideas a little more.  You can be the catalyst for that process if you choose listening over talking.

You’ll know when the time is right for you to participate in the process.  Just give it time to develop.  Listen.  It’s a far more satisfying gift than talking, and you’ll find it builds deeper bonds with others.

When I walk into a typical supermarket, I look around and see aisles and aisles filled with wasted packaging. When I walk into a so-called “Big Box” mega-store like Target or Walmart, I see the same thing. The way manufacturers package the products we buy is really quite mind-boggling when you get down to it. The sheer volume that we are guaranteed to bring home because of the packaging decisions these companies are making is staggering.

And we collectively let it happen. But…are we willing to fight a war on packaging by using our dollars as ammunition? Who here is really going to demand that packaging change? Who is going to lead the charge and figure out a new way to keep those crackers from breaking in transit or keep the fruit from bruising while it’s on the truck? There is an art and science to packaging, but, unfortunately, science has given way to art in an effort to give the marketing department as large a surface area on which to operate as possible.

And, again, we collectively let it happen.

I’m not saying that I have the answer myself. I’m just hoping that someone out there does. And I hope it’s someone with passion, desire, and the know-how to make a difference.

Are YOU that person? For my part, I know where I want to put my energy, where I want to strive to create change in the world. How about you? I sure hope you do. And I hope that you are doing something about it. Maybe I can’t reach the person who will lead the packaging revolution, but I’m betting that I know someone who can. Perhaps chance will play its part…

Right now, the best I can do is post my concern here, throwing it out there in the hopes that the currents will carry it off to the right person. Like leaving a message in a bottle.

It turns out that reward systems can be as addictive as cocaine.  Think I’m kidding?  I’m not. 

Brian Knutson conducted a study that showed the actually neuro-chemical processes that proved this.  Looks like he’s busy continuing this work: http://www-psych.stanford.edu/~span/.  His original study consisted of measuring brain activity via fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) while research subjects played games.  Cash rewards were sometimes linked to performance.  When the possibility of winning (not losing) money was attached to a game, a part of the human brain called the nucleus accumbens was activated.  The well-know neuro-chemical dopamine flooded the area.  This is the same part of the brain activated by cocaine and other highly-addictive drugs.  Knutson and others have replicated these findings. 

With drug use, the surge in dopamine feels great.  It creates that “buzz” sensation we get from other, more benign forms of stimulation.  But then it dissipates.  It goes away, leaving you wanting to feel it again.  When you do, you get another massive dose of dopamine.  That dissipates, too.  You itch for the feeling again.  As your brain is repeatedly flooded with dopamine, you get used to the feeling.  The buzz lasts for less and less time.  More and more of the stimulant, in this case drugs, is needed to achieve and sustain the buzz.  That’s addiction in a nutshell.

With monetary reward, the same dopamine cycle also occurs.  The implication is monetary reward systems can also become addictive.  They run the risk of replicating immunity to the cycle of activity-reward-buzz.  We either need more monetary reward, more frequently or it simply loses effectiveness.  In fact, research shows that this is exactly what happens.  The focus shifts from the activity to the reward, from the positive behavior we want to reinforce to the buzz resulting from getting the money. 

Other negative effects follow.  What was once fun becomes mundane.  “Play” becomes work.  If extrinsic reward, reward from outside the individual, is the primary focus for motivation, several negative after effects are possible.  Performance decreases.  Productivity wanes.  Quality suffers.  Interestingly, and unfortunately, the potential for risky behavior increases as the desire for the reward increases.  Not only that, the individual may even seek out risk in order to create a situation that might lead to a reward.  The frequency of risk-taking mistakes will likely increase as a result.

The caution here is not “never reward with money” but “never reward with money and money alone.”  Creating personal, more intimate forms of rewards like hand-written notes and extra flexibility in the work place are excellent ways to show appreciation and reward the right results and behavior.  It keeps the dopamine palate clean, allowing for the individual to develop a greater sense of intrinsic motivation.  

Interested in learning more about motivation and what drives us as human beings?  Read Daniel Pink’s latest book, “Drive.”  Not only is it an in-depth study of human motivation, it also provides tools and resources that can be applied to the place you work.  “Drive” is one of the most important books you can read.

 Today, a wise man told me to be comfortable with not knowing exactly what to do next.  The advice today was to resist the “Blue” energy in me, the piece of me that likes lists and steps and processes.  More and more, I am learning to turn down that side of me.  Although it commands a good deal of my energy, the truth is…it drains me.  And that was my big revelation today, post-advice.  

I thought about what he said for a while after we hung up the phone, and I realized that this part of me that requires the steps to be written out isn’t a part that I enjoy all that much.  I have it turned up way too high, and I understand now that I have to turn it down a few notches.  There is a time to navigate by landmarks and a time to navigate by step-by-step directions.  Now is the time to look for landmarks.

I use the landmark analogy because after I hung up the phone with my wise and caring mentor, I went upstairs and picked up one of the books I am reading.  I just bought “Unfolding the Napkin,” Daniel Roam’s follow up to his book “The Back of the Napkin.”  In the intro to the book, Daniel uses the example of getting from point A to point B in a city in a foreign country.  There are four ways that someone can tell you how to get where you are going: by giving you a “narrative” set of instructions (walk to the river, hang a right, walk until you get to the gas station, turn left…); by giving you step-by-step directions (left on Fourth, Right on Walsh, left on Washington, right on Main…); by giving you a map (highlighting the best path on a literal map); and by giving you a significant landmark to walk towards (like the tallest building in town because point B is right next to it).  Reading the example made me think about what I want right now: a landmark.  I want the biggest freakin’ landmark in the city.  I just need to build it.

That’s really the point, isn’t it?  We all need a landmark.  We might have a preference in terms of how we get there, but, in the end, it’s a landmark that provides us with focus.  And it’s a landmark that we need to build for ourselves.  Nobody else will build it for you.

“Do not wish to be shiny like jade
Be dull like rocks.”
        — Lao Tzu

I took the stone out of the bag. It was one of many similar stones. They were about an inch in diameter, white, and man-made. Woman-made, actually. From the comments coming from others who had already taken their stone, there was a word on one side of the stone. I didn’t look down. Instead, I just stuck my hand in the bag and randomly pulled out a stone. I took it out and closed my fist around it. I love randomness, serendipity at work. The Universe provides precisely what we need when we need it. At minimum, we guide ourselves to exactly the place we need to be at the moment we need to be there. Like the basement of a building between Madison and Park Avenues.

I held it in my closed fist for a second or two. Then, I opened it. I looked down at the stone. There was a ridge along the back of the stone. The stone itself was made from that stuff that’s like modeling clay that you bake so it hardens. I could see the skin imprint of someone’s palm. The stone was obviously made by hand. Still, I could feel something in it. The Universe was ready to speak to me.

One of the things I’ve learned in my life is that the Universe doesn’t discriminate when selecting a vehicle for its messages. We resonate much more strongly, thus experience much more deeply, those vehicles that take the form nature herself. All messages, though, come in loud and clear.

I turned the stone over. The other side was smooth, glassy. It was covered in a thin layer of greenish-yellow glaze. There was a star both above and below a single word. In stamped script, I saw the word, “Charge.”

Charge? What the f…? Not sure how to interpret that one.

I looked again. Oh…not “Charge”…it said, “Change.” Change! Yes! Change! Change was something I could understand. Change made sense. It was something that I was already feeling. The day had been filled with so many wonderful surprises, so many delights, and so many messages in the form of so many wonderful, beautiful people.

Yes, Change. Change, indeed.

It wasn’t until weeks later that I took the stone out of my coat pocket and put it on my desk at work. I propped it up under my monitor so I could see it every day. “Change,” it says. Looking at it again on my desk, I saw the word “Charge” again. Charge. That is what I saw the first time. That is what, I now believe, I was meant to see. That was my message: Charge! Change was obvious; Charge much less so. Change was inevitable, but the idea of charge…that battle cry, that leading intent…that was not inevitable. And THAT is precisely why I needed to see the both.

Change and charge are at the heart of the book we all received the day after the gift of the stones. There is no change if I do not charge forward, if I do not lead the charge myself. Courageously. Completely. Compellingly.

Lead the charge for change, even if only within yourself. To me, that was the message I received through the gift of the stone.

Thank you for the stone.