Musings

The thing about revisiting your childhood is that you might actually find it.  In fact, what I found out is that it is still there, just as I left it.  Only it’s different.  It’s different in a cozy and not-so-cozy way.  The most startling yet soothing realization is that it’s all good, all as it should be.

Something I also discovered along the way is that immersing myself in my childhood deepened my connection to my parents, mainly my father.  That said, I could see my mother in my wife’s tears, and I wondered what it was like for them when they had young children as I do.  More than once, I felt my wife and I standing in the ghost-like shoes of my parents.  

And, above all, I saw myself in my boys.  Plural.  That surprised me.  I expected to see my reflection in my oldest, but finding a point of light in the eyes of my youngest that mirrored mine was unexpected.  I can’t say why.  It just was.  He still tests my patience more than anyone else on the globe, but I think I understand that a little better.  

It is amazing to me that I can feel as whole as I do yet exist simultaneously in both of my boys, in my adult mind and body, and in a shadowy remnant of myself that awakens each day and gleefully wanders the paths and corridors of this place I first visited when I was just a little boy.  I exist in all these forms, yet I can feel my connection to all of them.  They are extensions of me.  I just have to take the time to feel their existence.

In going back to I place I visited many times as a child, I felt peace as the man I am…husband, father, son, brother, grandson, friend.  And I understood my place in the continuum of life a little better.

The mouse ears never really come off, I guess.

 I haven’t quite known my wife for more than half of my life, but we’re almost there.  We’re adding yet another year to the tally, and it hardly seems possible.  We are certainly not the people that the other fell in love with any longer, but, in retrospect, that should have been expected.  It should have been a quality that we sought out…the desire and ability to grow as a human being.  I wasn’t looking out for that.  I guess I was fortunate!  I suppose there are other people out there with the same desire, but my wife is the unique set of possibilities that precisely fit the need I have in my life.  I think the same can be said for me when it comes to her needs.  We take it all, the good and the bad, because both sides form the one lucky coin that we’ll carry in our pockets for the rest of our lives.

I am grateful for you, my love.  Thank you for being here for me, for making me a more whole person, and for always pushing the envelope.  I’m much better for it.

Part of being credible as a leader is demonstrating that you have the right and the talent to lead.  In part, credibility is granted to you by those who you lead and in part by those who have given you the opportunity to lead.  At least that’s how it works at a Fortune 100.

For the rest of the world, it’s really about believing that you have the right and the talent to lead.  You seize credibility and walk in the door with it.  Nobody is going to just hand credibility to you.  You will it into existence, then keep your spot through the results of your action.  It’s unfortunate that this isn’t always the way it works in a rather large bureaucracy.  

That said, in the end, you can’t fake credibility.  You eventually have to show that you deserve to lead.  The paths to get their may differ according to who or what you are leading, but producing results always helps.

You can’t lead by love alone.

 Seth Godin posted a great poem on his blog today.  You can find the original post here or read it below.

I shared it with a lot of people today and got great responses.  People responded well to it.  I felt good about sharing it.

I think that there are a lot of people out there, myself included at times, who forget that they matter.  The resulting response tends to be a need to claw to the top in search of recognition or “glory.”  I think that’s a way of proving you matter when you don’t really believe you do.

Every day, every one of us can matter.  We do matter.  We just need to believe it.  That can be the hard part.

Thank you, Seth Godin, for reminding us that we do matter.

“You Matter” by Seth Godin

 I can say without any doubt in my mind that the thing that you’ve been told time and time again makes you special is worth sharing with the rest of the world.  I’m quite positive of that.

 

The reason is simple: people enjoy experiencing other people who love what they are doing. It just feels good.  It makes you smile.  Sometimes you giggle, chuckle, chortle, or guffaw. Sometimes you laugh hysterically to the point of crying.  Sometimes you walk away with such a warm feeling that it rubs off on you and colors the way you treat other people for the next several hours.  That latter one should be reason enough to want to share your positive energy with everyone else on the planet.

 

There real reason you should want to share what makes you special is that it will give you life, pure and simple. The energy you give to others comes back to you, amplified and multiplied. Try it out, and you’ll see. What? Does your experience tell you something different? Can you think about all the times that you’ve shared your joy with others only to have it reject, twisted, and used against you? I am sure you can. There’s a scientific explanation for that, of course.

 

There are several phenomena that affect memory recall, three of the most relevant being recency, frequency, and intensity. 

 

Even though my spellchecker doesn’t like the word, recency exists. In psychological terms, specifically memory recall, recency describes a phenomenon whereby our most recent experiences are the easiest to recall. It is much easier to remember what you ate for lunch yesterday versus the same day last week. Likewise, if someone you were being kind to two days ago was a jerk to you, you are most likely to recall the details and emotions of the moment more vividly. 

 

Frequency describes a phenomenon whereby our most frequent experiences are the easiest to recall. If you eat the same thing for lunch every day, then you are more likely to be able to recite your personal menu to anyone who asks. Likewise, if someone you were trying to be kind to was a jerk to you every time you said “Good morning!” to them, you are most likely to recall the details and emotions of the moment more vividly.

 

Intensity describes a phenomenon whereby our most intense experiences are the easiest to recall. If you ate something three years ago for lunch that just knocked your socks off and made you weep with culinary job because it was that good, then you are more likely to remember what you ate (plus where you ate it, the time, the date, and the name of the waitress) that particular day. Likewise, if someone you were being kind to punched you in the mouth and took the keys to your car, you are most likely to recall the detail and emotions of the moment more vividly. And, hopefully, avoid that person.

 

This brings us back to sharing that special thing about you with others. Chances are the recency and/or intensity of a negative experience keep us from being able to honestly assess the effect sharing of ourselves has on other people. They also cloud our ability to objectively judge frequency. Even if frequency were a factor, chances are the frequency of negative experience can be attributed to one or two individuals who don’t represent the general population. It has been my experience that the vast majority of people respond positively to kindness, compassion, and the thing that makes me special. 

 

Don’t let a few bad experiences keep you from sharing everything you have to offer. 

 

That would be a tragic shame.

I read somewhere once that the human brain, the human heart, and the human stomach have the highest concentration of neurons in the body, in that order.  Imagine that.  There appears to be a physiological correlation between these bundles of neurons and where you physically feel your thoughts, your emotions, and your intuition.  Go figure.  But, really, what does that mean?  

It means that your body has centers other than your brain that are capable of processing your experiences in life.  “Listen to your gut.”  “Listen to your heart.”  “Listen to your instincts.”  These are all woo-woo terms we hear all the time.  They are telling us to listen to those other “brains” in our body.  They are there.  We can all feel them, feel through them.  Our bodies are truly mysterious vessels.

The real question, though, is how do we translate that interaction into action? 

We can do it by being honest with ourselves and following our heart and our gut as we think our way through our lives.  We tend to do lots of thinking but not as much feeling or intuiting.  What tends to happen is that we trick ourselves into believing that the only valid way to navigate a problem statement is with logic.  We try to shut out our emotions and our intuition, thinking that there is no place for either in the problem-solving process.  There’s evidence that such an approach misses the mark.

Colm Foster is a researcher, author, and executive coach.  He lectures part-time at theUniversity College Dublin.  The man has quite the pedigree.  One of the areas he has studied is this link logic-emotion-intuition link.  Early on in his studies, he looked for linkages between mood and cognition in the research and found next to nothing.  So, he pulled together research from various disciplines.  What he found was evidence that emotion plays a vital part in “good decision-making.” 

One of his areas of study has to do with stress vs. distress.  Activity and blood flow to the amygdale go nuts in stress situations.  This is a normal response.  Distress, on the other hand, is extreme stress and is characterized by the shutdown of certain cognitive processes.  Distress can lead to alexithymia, which is the phenomenon of not enough emotion to make a decision.  What he found was that by suppressing emotion, you lose the wisdom that is inherent in that emotion.  Like smells, emotions invoke whole memory processes which allow you to call upon past memories and experiences.  These memories and experiences are part of the wisdom we draw on to make the best decisions possible in the present moment.

PLUS you expend a lot of energy in suppression.  Since we all have finite supplies ofenergy that means you have to divert energy from one function to suppress another.  The more you suppress the less energy you have for…well…other things.

Mood and emotion are always present.  There are no fully “rational” decisions.  What matters most is whether or not we are allowing the full person we are, balanced between the present moment and past experience, to come through and act.  When we find that balance and expend as little energy as possible in suppression, we are able to bring the energy and passion into our lives that will draw others to us.  When they see that passion, that joy, they will respond, and, hopefully, they will be that much better for it.

You never know how the good thing you do for a few people might ripple out and effect everyone with whom they come into contact.

People frame everything they experience in the world with their core values and beliefs.  There isn’t a single thing that comes into our brains that isn’t filtered.  I’ll give you an example.

I have a Buddhist friend who says that I should just “get it over with” and go to a local Buddhist temple to “get started.”  I have a Jewish friend who told me that I am more Jewish than anyone else they know and that I should consider exploring Judaism some more.  I have a Christian friend who swears that there’s a ministry waiting for me. 

Huh?  I have a hard time understanding what they are talking about.  I mean, how is it that the same experience (me) can elicit a similar response in each of these people (their friendship) yet yield such different results (their assessment of my true spiritual calling)?  Am I a natural Buddhist?  Am I really supposed to be Jewish?  Or is my Catholic upbringing the flock to which I should return?  Only one of my friends can be right.  The other two are wrong.  Right?

 

Probably not.

 

As I read each of them again, I get a little teary.  Honestly.  To me, they illustrate that I have touched each of these people in a special way, that I have spoken to them soul-to-soul in a language that transcends everything that makes us different as human beings.  That just seems so beautiful to me.  It must simply be that each of these people expressed to me our spiritual connection in the only way they know how: in terms of their own life experiences.  So, for the Buddhist, I am most like a Buddhist.  For my Jewish friend, I am Jewish.  For my Christian friend, I am so obviously Christian, too.

 

But that still begs the question: who is correct?

They all are.  And I cannot imagine a more gratifying compliment than that.
 

Well, I’ve gone and let a technology mishap suck the air out of my sails this evening.  Nothing snappy or profound to say.

So, I’ll let Bugs Bunny help me feel better: www.youtube.com/watch.  Watch with me…

If you don’t have too much time, skip to 3:19, and watch from there.  This one drove me to tears when I was a kid.  Still gets me.

Hocus Pocus.  Abracadabra.  What a tune…!

Sometimes, it’s easier to let what other people write help get your point across.  And sometimes, it’s worth taking just under 20 minutes to hear a little truth about the food we eat.  Mark Bittman, columnist for the New York Times, did a presentation at eg’07 entitled “What’s Wrong with What We Eat.”  Mark writes a food column for the NYT called “The Minimalist.”  He is far from being a vegetarian or a food wacko like me.  He is a man who is passionate about food and is using his platform to voice his concerns about the way humans are transforming the Earth, for better or for worse, in the name of factory-farming, from beef to corn.

So, here’s the URL to Mark’s presentation, “What’s Wrong with What We Eat:” www.ted.com/talks/view/id/263

Sigh…there are days when I am not as good a parent as I could be.  Then, there are entire weekends when I am not as good a parent as I should be.  Sometimes, I’m a jerk, and it’s certainly not the fault of anyone but me.  I tend not to dwell on stuff like this, but I just feel so bad for being such a cranky bastard.  Sigh…

Despite myself, my kids still showed me in a dozen different ways how much they love me.  I certainly don’t feel like I earned it, but I accept it with much gratitude.  I’ll have to hang on to their unconditional adoration and keep it in mind more often than I do.  At the very least, maybe they’ll remember that their dad was an overall good guy to be around when they get all 30-something and nostalgic like me.

Interlude over.