Our youngest is a senior at a very nice state college an hour or two north of here. Freshman year he set off with an entire car load of stuff that freshman typically set off with including a nice winter jacket. Now admittedly he was never the winter jacket sort of child once past the age of 10. But we’re his parents and he is going away and gosh darn, it’s cold out there in the world. Boy may not need the coat but parent do.

This kid has a history of losing clothing that goes back to diapers. So of course he loses this coat and I am not sure he didn’t lose it on the way up. Or considering the state of his dorm dump room when visiting a time or two that first year it really could have been there all along. Honest to god when I saw those first pictures of Port au Prince my initial reaction was that someone had lifted a photo or two from his Facebook account. It would have been an easy mistake to have made. But that first winter came and so did another, “I can’t find my coat”.

It’s now three years later and everyone is enjoying the holidays, some more than others and some others are really looking forward to that return to school. The gathering process always lasts a day or two because his parents are involved. Left to his own resources the gathering process would take all of seven minutes with things accomplished as he woke and headed out the door back to school. I am not sure the results would vary in any overwhelming way but I tell him they most certainly would for I have age and wisdom along with my position of authority and I must justify it. He is gracious in his feigned acceptance.

During the gathering process his mother went to grab an unrelated item from the elf closet and guess what? There it is; the coat. Three years later and there it is hanging up; IN THE CLOSET. Not the main closet, mind you, but a closet nonetheless. This is a kid who has never hung up anything much less a coat. There is some faint recollection of a bath towel in early 1994 but that might have been hung by his brother. I know for sure that between the two of them it was the only thing that was ever hung so I am not sure who gets credit.

So why did we not go to where it should have been even though it had never been before? It wasn’t a conscious act. We did not say to one another (or to our own self), “Let’s not look in the closet because I know it won’t be in there”. We just didn’t look. When does the common universal practice (coats get hung in closets) become novel and how do we recognize this when looking for things lost? I don’t limit this to the tangible things like coats and keys and wallets and similar worldly things but other things too like momentum and patience.

Why do we lose things anyway, like momentum? Distractions, chemical imbalances and synaptic prioritizing I imagine. How do we stay found in the present and how can we keep from losing our ‘coats’ when we do not always need our coats. Oh sure some people always follow all of the rules. Coats are always hung in THAT closet – buttons facing left. These people should live alone. Others of us usually hang it in the same place, or close enough, unless we don’t at that moment, for whatever reason usually innocent enough.

So what do we do when we hang our momentum as in summer with our coats having no need for the extra energy? Time goes carried by the tide of the previous momentous force. And then we slow. We need to find that momentum but, hmm where did I put it? We look in all of the usual places. We don’t look where it should be. How does one bring balance to where ‘it should be’ and where ‘it never has been’?

If we follow the lost coat example then is it purely by accident? Meh, that’s a trippy and slightly sorrowful philosophy. That can’t be right. Some people insert the god thing here saying something like, “god led you to it”, or it was the “spirit of the almighty”. No it wasn’t. Don’t be stupid. If that level of detail exists, where He cares that much about a coat, then I know for a fact heaven is going to be terribly overbuilt. I for one am NOT looking forward to that. Have you ever been to a party where the hostess borders on OCD psychoticdom replacing cocktail napkins at the first hint of condensation and nut mix as you chew? Accompanied by that screechy little voice asking constantly if all is well? If He cares about that coat then that’s what you’re looking forward to. For all eternity . Not just a part of it . . .

So where to go to find that momentum? After looking in all of the usual places and not the place that it should be we need to answer the question of ‘should be’. If your personal life philosophy is one of universal truth or the classic child’s Matching Game then coats go with closets and momentum goes with love.

So find something or someone you love and put your coat on.

Jim

Have you seen that commercial where the kitten walks out soaked from inside the family’s Thanksgiving turkey? It was disturbing to me although not in ways obvious at first. If you haven’t seen the commercial it opens with the quintessential family seated for Thanksgiving feast; mother, dad, two kids and grandma. While the conversation centers on mom’s attempt at grandma’s famous stuffing the shot cuts to turkey shining brightly in the center of the table.

Well then! All of a sudden its sides start to move like it’s almost breathing! Such crazy intrigue from these crazy advertising types! No one seems to notice this save for the little girl who watches open-eyed as a tiny little kitten pet (I’m guessing it’s theirs) walks out from the bird’s cavity soaking wet presumably as testament to how good retread grandma’s filling really is. Though how a tiny little two pound pet ate six pounds of 160 degree stuffing is beyond me. This cat is not dead!

hen the little girl says something like, “That’s nasty” which of course it is NOT because the little kitty, alive, just walked out of a 160 degree turkey. That’s COOL! Now if the family had cut into the turkey only THEN to find the little kitten, well THAT would be nasty. So, after the girl utters her emotionless line, no one else says or motions or moves or nothing. Nothing; nobody says nothing! Then they look in the phone book for pizza to make an advertising point or something advertising clever. And who even uses a phone book anymore?

The point is, and this is why quintessential. They did absolutely nothing. Here they were faced with something, (if not horrific then perhaps unsettling or at the very least the kind of unusual that might spark a little water cooler conversation), that deserves a LITTLE emotion or a holy shit or pass me the gravy. Something! Give me something America. But sat there they did. Maybe they were waiting for the YouTube video . . . to comment upon . . . and share . . . and laugh . . . or otherwise emote.

In the old days if kitty eats turkey - kitty gone. AND the child whose responsibility it was to feed the kitten that day - he gone too. But life was simpler then; the advertising better . . .

Maybe we are too overwhelmed with the tragedy of the day, huge, seemingly insurmountable, issues which are presented to us through conflicting lies so that we may better “understand” (and when the lies become conflicting it may truly be time to shut it down). The systems themselves we do not trust and the system owners we trust less. We tune out helpless. We blame this seasonal apnea on the turkey but it is really much more than that.

My wonder is with the osmosis at a closer level; the effect on family friends community and work. Of course I see caring and sometimes a great deal. But I also see the uncaring and sometimes a great deal. ‘News’ is principally to blame for the ‘great deal’ and the world will be better when it is gone having been replaced by content washed through a magical filter squeezing out the slanted conspired lobbied bullshit then injected with truth, enlightenment and occasional wonder. (This machine represents a great business opportunity so if you know someone who’s good with tools and currently out of work . . .)

The world is filled with people trying to (and in some cases actually) making a difference. So perhaps there is hope on the macro level. I do believe in the all mighty power of the un-mighty and the indomitable spirit of the human. But doesn’t it seem more and more that there are a lot of stupid people running around; something is rubbing off and we need to act. There are opportunities to coach that caring back but we must be aware and we must be willing.

It takes no great effort to open a door for someone (even not older than you!). It is considered good manners to politely correct someone who is uttering total bullshit particularly if it is incessant uttering. And if you cannot politely tell them, well, then just turn off the teevee. Share your lunch with a coworker or better yet with someone who use to be a coworker. They may need it and the company more than you can imagine. Read stories to a kindergarten class. Take an elderly to their parked but hidden car in yours when you see they can’t. (And don’t even think of doing that when you see me wandering around the local grocer’s lot because I am not elderly, yet, and I have NOT forgotten where my car is I just like looking around sometimes – you know just to see what’s new . . . you know to . . . what was I talking about?). Oh there it is.

Coaching is about listening; to others AND yourself. So let’s all pay attention just a little bit more inside and out. Remember that it’s a season of Thanks as well as Giving. Try a little of each with those you know and those you don’t.

As you gather around the family table remember the spirit of the season and while it IS considered polite to correct the utterance of bullshit, when it comes incessantly from your drunken brother- in-law it is probably best to follow the wisdom of the quintessential-ad-family; keep your mouth shut, do NOT look at one another, show no emotion and have another glass yourself because while that never leads to trouble it does make drying the cat more fun.

Jim

I have always considered the ampersand (that’s this thing here - &) a joiner of things; a sexy curvy bass cleffy way of bringing two separate things together; at least in spirit if not in fact. This & That. You & Me. Simon & Schuster. Tom & Jerry (yea - that’s more like it). Individual identities brought together not necessarily in common cause but certainly in common purpose.

This works fine for many things but not for common cause and certainly not for country. This is just not right. Countries should be formed of causes. New countries should at least start with the intention of unification; gathered under an umbrella of common cause. There will always be plenty of time for a bunch of a-holes in government to divide and alienate the very people who elected them. Let’s at least start out right.

When designing a country or a name for one that needs one, founders should always conceptually start with unity; and unity has always been best expressed as a singular; no consideration of ampersand certainly.

Both Trinidad and Tobago were originally settled by Amerindians of South American origin. Trinidad was first settled 7,000 years ago making it the earliest-settled part of the Caribbean. Trinidad & Tobago, a British colony (they used to be really good at that sort of thing), became an independent nation in 1962. I can hear the forefather’s rebel yell. “Enough of these damn confounding coordinating conjunctions! Let us show them our independence by throwing it out and replace it with an ampersand. That will show them!”

Doesn’t seven thousand effen years sound like enough time to agree on a name for something? It’s not like they were trying to sneak in a public option by calling it a consortium or anything.

Admittedly consensus building is difficult. But this is what you wind up with? How does that group dynamic work? It seems clear to me that it didn’t. There was something else at play here. Take for example a more modern case of Johnston & Johnston. Ha! You say. They have an ampersand and fare pretty well. Ha! I say back to you. There were THREE founding brothers. Why is there only ONE ampersand? There was some crap coming down in that backroom. I guarantee it. The DuPonts didn’t have that issue.

This is the curious contradiction with the ampersand. We read it as a symbol meaning ‘and’ or ‘together’ but at what level of commitment? When used as your identity – not much. It in fact highlights the separations between the founders. Perhaps it is honest. Maybe they didn’t care for each other but were forced by some adult to pretend to play nice together.

As we come together to accomplish priorities, our projects, our companies, our lives and all, it is important to consider whether we come together in cause or in purpose. The difference may seem subtle but it is not. Cause is based on a value deeply held resulting in emotion. Hope is such a cause. A purpose is a task. Get elected is a purpose. Which one moves you more?

Are you facilitating United or merely Together? Be aware of the difference and seek to remove your ampersands from things that matter. There’s plenty of room for them in your tasks (or someone’s lazy-ass effort at cause).

Jim

One Final Thought

The second consideration for having a country taken seriously is a catchy little song. The National Anthem was written to celebrate Trinidad & Tobago’s independence from Great Britain on August 31, 1962. Because countries with ampersands obviously take their identity seriously a nation-wide contest was held in search of the best anthem to accompany this momentous occasion, similar in nature to how a fifth grade Betsy Ross won the coloring contest for the new American flag. (Wasn’t there but I will guarantee you that “The United States & America” was never an option).

Oh by the way. The winner of the anthem contest was Patrick Stanisclaus Castagne. Apart from composing T&T’s national anthem, Castagne wrote other songs like “Kiss Me for Christmas,” and “Nimble like Kimble”. “Nimble like Kimble”? Dude, I gotta get me some of that.

Sometimes something happens that you know is going to happen, someday perhaps soon,  and then when it happened,  it’s like, that’s not how I envisioned it. We get use to so many things around us; day after day there they are. Then one day . . .

Ashes came into our home as a little ball of kitten fur almost 15 years ago. Picked by our youngest out of a box full of little balls of kitten fur as a gift from a coworker Ashes was even then of particularly cute stock. She grew to be one of the most gorgeous animals I have ever seen with personality to match. She was so different in so many ways that I am not even sure she really was a cat.

Now I should add here that I am not a ‘pet guy’. I grew up with some dog around most of my life and I remember petting each from time to time but I am pretty sure I didn’t care all that much. My dad was a dog guy and I have some brothers and a sister who are as well. I just never was. Never had a cat and the guinea pig that occupied my brothers’ room and mine was nearly put to death by one of my brothers in a well intended bathing episode one night when the sitter wasn’t looking.  My dad, the dog guy, sat up all night with the shivering rodent wrapped in a blanket warming it back from the brink. I went to bed.

The animal lover (and of all things living) in our home is Toni. SHE is a dog person and a cat person and most recently a duck and goose and gila person.  In conversation with her many years  ago while talking about pets I offered the opinion that people who sleep, or eat or go to the movies with their dogs or cats or fish have ‘issues’; maybe not serial but there seems to be something there that needs to be worked out. 

Toni suggested (among a slew of other things) that I was missing the point.  The point she said, is simply that it is another heartbeat in the house. Wow. It was for me the proverbial a brick in the head; a game changing reason for their presence.  Now that heartbeat is gone.

For fifteen years Ashes played and slept at her own convenience. She slept on the boys’ bed or beneath at her discretion. She was underfoot or on the desk regardless of Toni’s activities again at her choosing. She would engage the other cat (don’t even get me started) when she felt the need and would totally rebuff the advance from the other when she did not. If my friends were to do this they wouldn’t be my friends but with Ashes it seemed somewhat regal.

Of course she was loved by the boys and spent years under the scrunching hand of the youngest. She was, however, the constant sidekick for Toni and hours would pass while on conference calls and such where Ashes was the lap appendage; sweet quiet content. When we realized she was really gone Toni’s choked gasp was, “I didn’t get to say goodbye”. That cut me deeply. And then the frantic search of the house inside and out; the neighbor’s bushes followed by a ring of the bell. Everyone was kind.

Online the word went out and friends and family offered their concern and assured her that this is what cats do when they go to die. (I am now very grateful that FaceBook was not around in the year my father passed). But knowing seeped in and increasingly throughout the day we came to accept. Tears were shed all throughout but at the end, while the sadness weighed heavy there was a certain respect and with it peace for the inner voice that spoke of death and sent the heartbeat to a quiet place to return its soul. This is what I want to do.

Now here is the rub. Between the times that I first placed my feelings here, and now, Ashes has returned. That’s right she’s here; puked and gone two days in atypical fashion to die in peace then a late night dramatic entrance. It should not have surprised me. Today she has been ‘normal‘ all day. Perhaps rehearsal for the real show but . . .

WTF?

I am told that my dad dies. I cry. He does not come back. I am told that my cat dies. I cry. She comes back. I am a dad guy not a pet guy so how does THAT happen?

In reflection it seems to happen as a reminder of the value of the heartbeat, regardless, and the fleeting nature of our presence. It is really very simple. For all our perceived power we don’t get to decide. Sometimes, in life at work in love, we get a second chance and sometimes we don’t. This time I did. We all did.

Think I’ll go curl up on the couch; if she’ll have me . . .

Jim

So I am sitting here doing what I do (when I sit here) and just in front of me moving quickly from left to right across the ledge is a little tiny ant. If I was sitting here doing what I do at a picnic the little thing would have gone quite unnoticed. He (I am assuming he) would have been in his natural environment (at least as defined by me). 

But here’s the thing. I work from home and home and ants are antithetical. At least as defined by me.

My office sits towards the back of the house. A small room filled with windows on all three sides. It is very light and breezy and easy to keep an eye on my nosey neighbors when I feel so inclined as to return the favor. But it is on the second floor. The second floor.  How he got here is beyond me and WHY he is here is way beyond. I don’t know much about them but ants strike me as ground creatures. They live in the ground, they walk around on the ground, they eat stuff off the ground or at the very least eat stuff on my first floor kitchen floor on those occasions where invasion has been successful; but, the second floor?

I am thinking that there may be something wrong with him; a little bug psychosis. It made me a little antsy. Don’t you have to be a little crazy to stare straight up at something a thousand times taller than you and come to the conclusion that climbing it in hopes of finding something to eat is a good idea? It would be like me climbing up the outside of the Empire State Building because I had heard at some point in my past that there might be some guy with a cracker in his pocket standing on the observation deck. That is not sound thinking.

Maybe it’s not about food. Maybe he’s desperate. Maybe he’s a jumper. Maybe he stole the G4.  I opened my window and looked down the two stories expecting to see a small gathering of several dozen ants chanting “Jump! Jump!”  (Wow, they look like ants from way up here . . .).  I was all ready with the little finger flick thing (oh come on now, I couldn’t spend my entire afternoon waiting for him to make a decision) but saw nothing really and sat back down.

It then dawned on me that I really do know nothing about ants. Just a bunch of non critical observations along with some assumptions and a decayed memory of faded facts from some old 70’s Animal Kingdom television show. I was in no real position to judge the motivations (and/or instincts) of one of god’s creatures. He knew what he was doing. He saw his purpose. He was built for this and was doing it, my understandings and questions not withstanding.

How many times have we done the same with one of our own? “Why is he here”? “What was she thinking”? “Why are we doing this”? “That thinking has no place here”. “The neighborhood is changing”.  And the ever popular, “I can’t”. Those preconceptions, generalizations and sloppy cognitive record keeping that limit each of us, whether said by us or others, discourage and in fact prevent everything that is possible on the second story ledge. Not suppose to be there! Who said so?

At work, at home and at play we need to learn more and judge less. Help others see where the possibilities are. Walk with them on Purpose. Help others up to their second story.

Jim

Oh sure. Look at the picture. Nice hair there sonny. I have had a lifetime of nice hair as judged from afar (and very near and close up with the senior citizens as a 16 year old bagger at Jewel). Boy, if you are not from the Midwest then that statement ‘bagger’ could make me some (R) Senator’s date. I am talking groceries here not gross-eries.

So, I have nice hair and can attribute that to nothing but genes; mainly from my mother’s side as my father’s had none; hair that is. But what happens when an attribute of compliment churns to the south? My hair, I’m told, looks good in June and September but holy s* when July and the dog days of August hit the street. Not unlike that Life magazine picture of July 1945 when we decided over Nagasaki that enough was enough. The only real difference (except for the tens of thousands of disintegrated Japanese families) is that my hair is in color. My only real chance of hurting anyone is driving down the highway windows open hair flailing like some old feather duster on acid.

The point is that sometimes, through forces not our own, gentle natural properties become not so gentle. Qualities that are complimentary do sometimes become our own worst enemy. As we work with those we love and those we don’t (but who pay us) remember this. The discord of humid laden hair is not a ‘fault’ it is nature’s way of calling attention to the unmanageable while sometimes rising to the unimaginable. It’s that way with personal development and it is that way with organizations too. There are natural causes underlying organizational “humid hair”; the natural state gone astray.

The answer then is to understand the nature of the humid-ic unmanageability and to plan accordingly. We are familiar with many of these forces on behavior; social issues sometimes from home, lack of proper training or, more likely, proper managing, and a lack of direction or sense of worth. Responses range from the preventative to the reactionary. While all situations cannot be predicted many more than are now could be; with some awareness.

It is only important that responses be appropriate. And they can only be appropriate if we understand. And we can only understand if we consider the other. In life and at work and with all the relationships that intertwine it is the same.

Be aware of who you are and understand the forces that move you away from that.

Jim Reece

Some things simple simply aren’t; at least at first. While chatting recently over cocktails I was reminded (thank god for cocktails) of a past life career that took me overseas on a number of occasions. While there were many experiences during that tenure which helped me grow in a number of different ways (inside and out) it was my very first trip to my very first site that was the source of the memory.

It was (I say ‘was’ for in capitalism one should have capital) a little company with a great big mission that involved kids and their holistic well-being. The vehicle was well ahead of its time; physical activity but there was much more to it than that. It was one of those simple things that isn’t. Until you get it – then it is. Like tying your shoes. We franchised the concept through the US and internationally. My role was to help them ‘get it’. It was consulting in nature and it was awesome.

After nearly a year with the company I knew enough to be helpful (but at the same time not knowledgeable enough and so therefore dangerous). This position is familiar to many and I did what we all do – the best I could. In prepping for the trip, to open the first Thai facility, I asked the company founder about language – what are the challenges? I had trained the owners here in the States for nearly six weeks and knew they, at least, spoke better English than me. The founder’s answer was not to worry – he’d never encountered any issue at all. I accepted his answer gladly and well before I came to find out that he did not know what he was talking about.

After landing and several meetings with senior Thai management, who spoke English well enough, I headed out the door and down the facility’s main hallway to the meeting room where I would do the first day orientation for the folks who would actually be running the youth programming on a daily basis; college educated PE people. I was prepped and prepared materials in hand imagining my positive imaging message – let’s get psyched we have important work to do! I walked down the hall with Sompit, the Thai owner, and heading into the conference room she says, “Now don’t talk too fast. No one in the room speaks English so I will translate the best I can”.

WTF? (I was WTF before WTF was). Twenty smiling faces newly hired excited at, for some, their first professional job working with kids. Little did they know they were about to learn nothing. I have, like you, been thrown curve balls before and expecting something different you change your stance move the mitt and catch the ball.

What followed in the next four hours was exhausting AND exhilarating. I did slow down – but not my language first – it followed. What I had come to learn is that translation is not a ‘you say this word and I will go find it in my language and then use it’. Translation is culturally contextual in that after I said what I said she washed its meaning and then spoke to the thoughts and ideas behind my words in her native language. I can’t even imagine how that happens – but it does. So my thinking slowed down as I worked to choose words that more clearly expressed the meaning of whatever topic I was on at the moment. I was mindful to check on clarity much more often than I ever had previously. The day was a success and I know that I learned much more than they in very many ways.

We translate too everyday – English to English. It too is culturally contextual but on a more micro basis – the differences are more subtle – a crack versus a chasm. We usually succeed in the effort but not always. We take much for granted like tying our shoes. But it is only easy once we ‘get it’. And that takes a little awareness and even more practice.

That is unless you use loafers in your language.

Jim

Summer brings with it certain seasonal joys and tonight I saw my first lightning bug. Not my first ever mind you. Not a Somali and snow sort of ‘see’ but saw it nevertheless; a little yellow dot just across the street on the median near the very little new tree; (Very little - it’s new. New as it replaced the previous older tree crushed when our much older tree collapsed on it. It’s the only thing I have ever known or been associated with that has destroyed municipal property. But then my life isn’t all that interesting).

I remember quite fondly the summer rush of these tiny exotic creatures and how the night would light with them; although it seems I remember it as an August sort of experience. I hope this is not another global warming thing – early lightning bugs - and is more a cognitive aging issue among the species. I couldn’t live with another warming thing chipping away magical childhood moments.

I, we, all of us in the neighborhood would run and catch – release and more of the same; for hours. And then when older but still child-like just looking in wonder at the beauty. It’s a beauty born of nature - “Hey ladies here I am!” I once tried this in college by sticking a light bulb up my ass, winking at the cute ones, while trying to pay for their drinks. I can say for certain that one should really leave this sort of master design to god. I am not saying it didn’t light up I am just saying . . .

But for the glow; the constant search for its purpose. The glow is not a conscious sort of thing it just is. It is the nature of the beast. It is in the design – the grand design. They’re not unlike us; a need to glow – a need to be ‘seen’ as alive at work; in our most meaningful relationships.

I remember hunting all night collecting in a grass filled jar with life holes punched atop; maybe thirty or forty tiny lights; awesome glow from their collective being. I cannot say for sure that they would have behaved any different knowing they were captive but I chose to believe that they would not have – because that is their nature – that is the way they were built.

I have known people in my life both at work and home that were fireflies. So do you. Groups of them stayed lit even when it may have been a little pre seasonal to do so; people who were of their nature simply because that is what it means to live. If you have a lightning bug at work or home and are forced (out of ignorance or force) to keep her in a jar then for chri’sakes at least put a little grass in there.

We glow because it is our destiny. It is the way we are built. Look at the glow and be amazed even 50 years after your first. It is something to behold and to remember. It is the spirit. It is the essence of life. Remember it with those at work and those at home. Everyone has a light to them.

I am wondering if they have lightning bugs in Iran.

I think they do.

Jim

What in the world is going on? The course of the torture debate has taken us from ignorance, to a glimpse of something, to the truth (we did). In the cry for ‘why’ what was the answer from those who did? They (and by ‘they’ I mean ‘he’) said it was effective . . . WHAT? What the hell sort of answer is that? It is immoral, illegal and threatens everyone we know and love around the world but it is okay because it works? What happened to doing what’s right?

Can you imagine trying to get away with that at work?

Boss: “Why did you hold Miller’s head in the toilet for ten minutes 185 times this morning? You almost killed him!”

You: “He wouldn’t give me the quarterly numbers.”

I am sure that I could have had better short term success in getting my son to clean his room by punching him the face. But how sick to you have to be to believe that as good methodology? I know I know that scenario DOES play out way to often for too many kids (and women) but it is not the result of practical policy. It is the result of really sick people who cannot distinguish right from wrong. So that obviously is not what we’re talk . . . Mmmmm.

But here is the rub. It doesn’t work anyway.

So what did work? According to Matthew Alexander, (an interrogator in Iraq who conducted more than 300 interrogations and supervised more than 1,000), it was relationship building. Yep. Relationship building was central in the success of gaining information. Lest you think he is some leftist leaning communist, Up With People cast reject or some overweight teambuilding wannabe, you should know that he led the interrogations team that located Abu Musab Al Zarqawi, the former leader of Al Qaida in Iraq, and one of the most notorious mass murderers of our generation. Success is centered in relationship building. You can read his testimony here (and should). http://www.huffingtonpost.com/matthew-alexander/my-written-testimony-to-tb_203269.html.

Imagine that. It was relationship building. Earning the trust of those you need to achieve success. Isn’t that what we’re all about in business coaching? What happens organizationally in abusive employer/employee relationships; or in supervisor to subordinate relationships? And we need not go to the extreme of breaking the law to know the answer. It does not work.

In fact we do not have to go to any extreme at all organizationally; or in any relationship for that matter. The mere absence of trust creates a dysfunctional state. The consequences are deep and go far beyond simply getting the work done. Trust in relationships; consciously sought. That’s what’s right.

Jim

There are a many transitions in our lives. The first birthday, the first bike ride, the last diaper (not in that order necessarily). However, there is one that affects both the transitioner and the transitionee. 21.

21 is the birth of the adult. Well maybe not the birth but at least the bar mitzvah. The coming of age. We can die at 18 in war (16 at home if we include driving) and vote as well. But the full regalia comes at 21. Kill someone and it’s capital murder (unless unless you are 11 and black then the age thing is less relevant). But it remains a line in the lifeline sand. 21.

It might be the one time in life when you realize both fallibility and infallibility at the same moment. I can drink until I die and oh my god I drank and think I may die . . . (Your dream-home bathroom is never the same). And as parents we relive our own experience of 21 and think, “oh my god isn’t that cute” while at the same time thinking they could die. Parenting is hell in heaven.

As we search for the balance between the giving and the forgiving we learn that all we have done has some effect. They are different than they were. Having to navigate the left and the right – the up and down – the inside and the outside – the wrong from the not so wrong – they learn.

It’s like that with us as well. The model of learning doesn’t change but our ability (willingness) to does. Life is a lesson for those who chose to learn it.

And women too. In most cases when asking a question the answer comes back with the responders auto-reply switched on. Not always but more often than not. This is not to say that the reply is insincere or deceptive. It is simply, well, simple. (Unless they are on the third glass of wine in which case it is probably just stupid. Entertaining but stupid none the less). I know this as fact as I have myself answered many a question while actually searching the house for where I left my third glass . . .

In everyday conversation this simple back and forth does no harm and in some ways most likely facilitates actually getting through the day. However when the question is important (to either person) and the answer even more so then a bit more effort is required.

When the response to your first question comes vollying back a contemplative form of “why” should follow from you in return. As in “why do you feel that way?” or something of the same flavor. The response will unveil a bit more honesty but as in the proverbial onion still only dried paper-like skin. To get to real it takes two more ‘whys’.

The response to your first why should be followed with another. And to that response yet one more. And be adult about it - use it in a sentence. For you parents out there one of life’s little irritants (cute at first with a quick fade) is that period of toddler development called the why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?
why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?
why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?why?” stage.

And no, you weren’t at that moment filled with pride at the level of intellectual curiosity. Even though that’s the way you told the story.

‘Whys’ are respectful and allow for the opportunity to get more thoughtful. Again the first level response is not shallow it is just simple. We are built for speed and getting to ‘next’. Our minds grab responses from the thoughts floating on the surface. But meaning is built from thoughts just below and it takes a couple of whys to form the connections that allow the respondent to finally say, “Oh yea. I guess that’s why. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Thanks.”

It takes a little more time but then meaningful often does.

Jim

Some things are just meant to be. I just finished reading a great interview with Roy Spence author of the new “It’s Not What You Sell. It’s What You Stand For.” In it he describes the success of several great companies who continue to succeed even in today’s rough economic climate. He credits their ability to define their purpose - the difference you are trying to make in the world. Not touchy feely but a serious way of approaching bottom line decisions.

I imagine myself not unlike you. A little spinning trying to catch the catchable while the wind blows as bad as the economy - juggling feathers in a spring Nor’easter. Business if not gone away is in neutral idling for some sort of signal that it IS okay to make a decision about tomorrow. Remembering too that no decision is in fact a decision itself; and not one without consequences.

I’ll be honest. We have struggled a bit over the past two quarters as we scrambled to adapt to the complete and utter change that just showed up. It was really (seemingly) that quick. Things that were for sure now weren’t and the unsure things just vanished. So you scramble the flight deck and launch what you know. We have been able to stay afloat and even inch ahead a bit. We have never done any direct to consumer product and we have a glorious little tome coming out later this month (more on that some other day). Good things do come from the challenge of change. However I am not sure that this one was on purpose.

The point is that we focused on product, reaching into gut for the sense of direction. (I think a lot about gut and happen to love mine). Our marketing messages continued to focus either on product (yuck!) or to some degree end user benefit (smaller yuck! but yuck! nonetheless). In the building momentum of recent history I really have not been able to gain the space I usually need to clarify. And then I read his interview.

Purpose - the difference you are trying to make in the world. Really - why did you get into business in the first place? How many times have you asked a client that very question? Time to ask yourself - I did.

I joined this company because I believed in the difference Toni was trying to make for people in the world (of work originally). Now, we never verbalized it in exactly those terms but exercising the ideas from “purpose” that is exactly the genesis of The PEOPLE Academy when Toni formed its predecessor nearly 15 years ago. Coming from the faceless, nameless (read unhuman) organizational environments so many of us are familiar with she decided that there could be, should be, ways of accomplishing great organizational success using the power of people and their knowledge, ideas and investment in outcomes that matter.

She started a company based on the deeply held belief that one could make a difference in the way people experienced work and that experience could reach beyond the organizational parking lot all the way home. The success of that purpose is evident in the fact that The Academy has been around for 15 years. Over that time we have evolved the business model more away from direct delivery ourselves and closer to product development that supports those coaches, trainers, mentors, and others who do direct delivery. The power of the approaches was so universal that it is used extensively by those in private coaching now was well.

I mean it IS the PEOPLE Model, right?

The heart of those products hold the passion of the original purpose - that we CAN make a difference. I remember in the early years the Toni tears that would well inside a story of an assembly line woman who had told Toni that never (and I mean NEVER) had someone at work asked her what she thought. It was a successful company on many measures but I wonder at the lack of upside or longer vision (by the way they are REALLY hurting right now). And no, it doesn’t make me feel good. What kind of question was that anyway?

The purpose of all this is exactly that - purpose. You will see a more intentional remembering of our purpose going forward. A rethinking of the website and other vehicles we use to tell our story. It is not about the products. They are the way in which we fulfill our purpose (mission). But they are not our purpose. I forgot that. You may have too in your own right.

And so tomorrow as we continue to create the HOWs I will certainly be keeping the ‘difference we know we can make’ in facilitating dignity at work and in life (engaging the human element and making people people again).

I am really glad I learned to read. Now go away . . . and think on Purpose. And don’t forget the wine.

Jim

So there I found myself. Nowhere near any real food but with yogurt in hand. I had planned it as a mid morning snack - always proper after early morning exercise with its protein and all. I had planned to eat it, I just (apparently) did not plan how to eat it.

What is it with spoons? There is ALWAYS a spoon here where I am but not today. Why not today? I need the spoon today not yesterday when I remember there being plenty. But there was a fork. So I used it thanking myself for not planning soup.

The yogurt was good and I was able to get most of it creatively turning the instrument around scoring the bottom blobs with the end of the handle. And I did all of this while maintaining a fairly healthy ego. Not a bad snack moment after all.

Here’s what I learned in that yogurt moment. We all have our bucket of tools that we draw upon to get us through whatever. If you have a little time under your belt most of these tools are reflexive - yogurt - grab a spoon. You don’t go through a checklist or call your lifeline. You just grab a spoon. We do it all the time. “Oh here’s a problem but I know how to handle that. I just do x y z”.

But what happens when we are confronted with a seemingly common problem and the tool isn’t there? Or a variation on the problem theme and a quick glance later it seems the tool might not fit? A little panic - a little freaking out. Or we don’t engage at all (always a great choice that never has any back-end consequence).

We think because we don’t have access to the tool we always use to solve ‘this’ we can’t or at the very least we must invent something or go learn a new way of doing whatever. And that ain’t always the case. What tool do you already have that is in the same category of what you don’t have?

A fork is in the same category as a spoon. They are both used to facilitate the courteous path of plate to mouth. (If you said they are both used ‘to eat’ you would kinda be wrong). You can eat with your hands which is yet another tool not normally included in the subject category. Unless of course you have the pleasure of indulging in a traditional Indonesian meal which is consumed utensil-less. So even in some places things not considered here are there in their category list. It is always helpful to remember that your list is not the only list.

So what else do you have? What will work here if I just take a moment to consider the options. Not every category item is useful in every situation but take a glance at the drawer and look.

In conversation do we sometimes pay more attention to what words mean than how they mean? In any conversation if each party could be guaranteed clarity and honesty (and by honesty I don’t really mean a lack of deception - more like how courtesies and politeness can cloud the intended message or mask a tension) then most things would run more smoothly. Could it be that the difference in disconnected conversation - those seemingly unsatisfying at conclusion - lays between what is ‘At’ the surface and what is ‘In’ side and how it relates to the ‘tention’ at hand?

There is a need to go beyond the surface and pay attention to the intention.

Most talk is ubiquitous and filters into the air around us. However some of it doesn’t. The reasons for disconnect in talk are many (way many) but can fall in two great big categories; I don’t want to/know how to say this, and I don’t want to/know how to hear this.

It’s not that paying attention to the words spoken or, as the speaker, the impact these particular words may have is not important, it is. We just may or may not be equipped to deal with it. More often than not the person expressing is not aware of how the intention may be defined.

Remember that, as a sender, we hear ourselves speak but cannot hear the other person hear.

Here’s the point. Words are a tool. If you are the earth understand what a shovel means to you. A lobster; boiling water. If you are a daffodil understand the sun and rain (and the annual American Cancer Society fundraiser).

So now you know that being a daffodil is more complex than being the earth. Speaking and hearing; talking and listening - even more so . . .

As with most traditions I have no idea where this one came from. Except that I was present and complicit. How the hell does that happen?

For me forever the holiday has extended well into January perhaps out of comfort (there is nothing quite like sitting the evening away wine in hand under the glow of twinkling lights) or perhaps it had something to do with the Epiphany. Whatever that is. But extend it did. And I was fine with that; a certain comfort/peace.

But somehow creepingly over the past several years there has been this internal campaign to shorten the joy (NOT the intent but the result nonetheless) and to, in other words, get on with it. Truly I never got it. I thought it a matter of attention span, or to mitigate the sometime sadness that can be remembered around the holidays.

I have an extraordinary Aunt - my mother’s sister/only who died several years ago. One of the great memories of this theatrical soul (among many great memories) happened at their home in New England following the burial of my grandmother - her mother; my mother’s mother. Amidst the joy of celebrating a life of a century-minus-one-day there was the sadness of missing one who had done so rather magnificently. Wait. There really was not a tearful sadness (the daughters had already) but a longing for the spirit of what made her life. Where was that in us? And I guess along with this the realization that we will, to a person, be the subject of funeral conversation ourselves one day. Personally I will not miss the certainly embarrassing (to me) banter thrown about at my own. But I certainly wish those willing to give up a days pay to attend the very best.

At any rate Carol was theater! And the spirit she brought to the close of our meal that evening was life confirming if not altering. Not altering in the “Oh my god I have never felt that” or whatever. More confirming in the sense that it made sense. And in a way not imagined before. We have all had the experience at one time where we said (to our Self), “Gosh, I knew that, but never in that way”.

I have had a thousand meals and cleared as many tables. And while sometimes accompanied by friends, or a kid, or wife (we do the I cook you clean deal - very fair) or a cat or sometimes alone it is a fairly unimaginative mechanic - something not thought about even though the surroundings vibe pleasant. Not with Carol. And here’s the power.

At the end of the meal (and remember that she and Bobbie had just buried their mother (or perhaps because of it) while most relaxed in the post meal fog of conversation Carol rises and lungs out a hearty, “Strike the table”! How perfect. In the theater of life why not call out production assignments to get us on the road?

Because at the end of life (or the day) we have done all that we can do. We did it well and those who saw agreed. The performance is finished yet our script’s intact for tomorrow’s interpretation. We shall start anew tomorrow. Strike the set. Strike the table. Strike the holiday.

Enjoy what you have done today. Tomorrow brings another show. Another audience. Another chance. And perhaps a deeper interpretation of the script. Characters grow.

Toni was right. Christmas lights and the everything accompanying needs to be struck on the first day following the last day they were relevant. Christmas (and all of the religiously non - but otherwise - related) is yesterday’s show in Dubuque. I laughed I cried. Great performance - but it was yesterday. Not to mention Dubuque. Welcome to today. And to your own town.

I have come to not only accept but embrace with all my being my lesson from Toni. That it is our knowledge and lessons learned which should LEAD us into the new. Not our sluggishness to release yesterday’s performance and the comfort of our “shtick” (read mind map). It is indeed time to strike and to get on with today. Be in today with the knowledge of yesterday and the anticipation of tomorrow. It is the presence of this trinity that makes today the only real day. Be in it.

Strike the old. Strike the mold. Strike the status quo. Or for at least gods sake strike the immobility.

Strike the (08) holiday (with a nod to 09). Fa la la la la la la la la later . . .

While it has been said (I’m sure by someone somewhere) that this Thursday is just another day, very few of us can mentally escape its significance and the opportunity to reflect. What can become better? What can be forgotten? What can be forgotten better?

I have mentioned that Change’s biggest gift may be in the re-thinking it causes. Just as imposed change brings re-thinking, re-thinking can bring change. We just reverse order.

So go re-think something. Make the world a better place; even if it’s just in your head and only for a moment. You see, there are Moments that become real big real quick and you never know which one it will be or when it will be there. You can improve your chances of ‘real big real quick’ logarithmically by giving yourself moments.

It IS hard in the hustle bustle of each of the other 51 Thursdays. So there is a pleasant convenience in a holiday being centered around Moment creation. Sort of forced upon us like a door held opened for you on a rainy windy day while you hurry towards it unaware. You don’t stop to converse about why he’s holding it or any other trivial pursuit. You don’t analyze it. You just walk through with a ‘thanks’. Happy for the convenience provided. New Years is convenience provided.

Here’s to meaningful moments, some Happy in the New Year.

I had the opportunity to be reminded of certain important life things the other night. By an eight year old. Jason. My wife along with a dear friend (the boy’s mother - in the midst of a nasty divorce) went to gather another dear friend off the bus from New York; a friend who is most likely headed to federal prison for some sort of embezzlement scheme (”love the sinner hate the sin”). At any rate you’ll hear no more blog related to the story of those three; ’cause that ain’t blog stuff - that’s my book!

Back to the other night. It was my pleasure to provide the adult supervision required (babysitting does not seem an appropriate term for a person Jason’s age). Jason is bright and engaging as you might expect of an active boy his age. It is made a little more noteworthy though as Jason has recovered completely and remarkably from a life threatening brain tumor as a toddler. (I don’t offer this in a ply for sympathy - only a little note to keep in your pocket to retrieve when you think you are having a bad day.

There was some anticipation for my arrival as I had purchased a little gingerbread house kit that we could build together. The idea of me building something carries a bit of anticipation made all the more uncertain if you have ever seen one of my domestic maintenance projects. But build we did.

Neither one of us had built one of these before and we honestly had quite the time doing it. (I would highly recommend the one with “over one half pound of Willy Wonka candy!” The boxes promotional hype did not disappoint).

Now of course being eight one cannot just sit and chat while waiting the ten minutes for sugar cement to dry so off to the garage for a quick lesson on street hockey and the strategies behind three hockey sticks all of different size. It mattered less that none of the strategies really seemed to make any sense - to me - than the clarity in which they were offered. And the great caring he had for them.

Time to get back to the Gingerbread house and a bit more construction. Then off to his room for a quick demonstration of Detroit hockey prowess on PlayStation. Really good. I am old and do this day cannot fathom how one gets their fingers going so fast in such a coordinated way. A blur. Like a bad plasma screen.

So back and forth we went working on the house, playing hockey, eating candy, licking icing (really disgusting after awhile), playing hockey, building the house. Trying desperately - and successfully - to get EVERYTHING in to the allotted 2 and 1/2 hours before bed. We even got the tree un-netted. Truly a testament to his drive and focus.

And during the entire time - and I mean the entire time - he was into it. The new and the familiar. He was into it. Now I have always been a believer in the wisdom of children but there are things that I have - obviously - forgotten. And one of those things - a very important thing - is the passion for the familiar.

You are like me in that the new is easy fun. Give me a challenge! A new project! Or god forbid an idea should pop into my head! We’re going to visit someplace new? Holy S***! That gets the blood going. But the familiar? Passion infused routine? A bit oxymoronic. At least on the surface.
Remember when the now familiar was new? The ONLY difference is time. That was then this is now. She is the same person. He is the same man. Grown and different but the same. And those are the same kids. Friends. Hobby. Job. Church . . .

The point is that the things that are now - sometimes too - familiar were themselves once new. And there was that excitement and there was that wonder or passion or whatever it was that you experienced when you experienced it for the first time. Time to go visit. So right now take a deep breath. Now pick something familiar and the hot point of its original wonder. Exhale. Now a quick plan to recreate.

Me? I see a lovely candlelight dinner in a brand new 12 year old dining room with a new wife and 2 new kids. I couldn’t be more excited.

December ending marks the traditional time of reflection and consideration; reflecting on the events of the past and considering a (hopefully) learned path to the new. Oh yes there are sins to be atoned and resolutions affirmed. But we are seldom really sorry and less often very resolved; and neither one’s important unless we engage it for today.

(Real) life is engaging. Your power to engage springs from a power to influence what is real; and today is the only day that’s real. One cannot just engage in the past or in the future as though it were real (unless you are under some very specialized care . . .).

So yes, reflect for just a moment and imagine better tomorrows. But remember that tomorrow does not ever come and yesterday will never come again. Today is here today. And the nice thing is – when you wake up tomorrow it will be today.

So be true to yourself and nice to someone else. It’s the holidays.

Seasons Greetings, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Day! (Every day for days and days to come)

Jim

Engaging the people you care about in the things that matter to them creates results far beyond the intended.

Jim