Appreciating Life’s Mysteries

 

There is something magical about allowing the great mystery of our lives and the things that happen to us be as they are. Here’s the experience that sparked this idea:

Years ago, I was in Ireland on a writing trip with the poet David Whyte and 22 other aspiring writers. We signed up for this adventure to learn more about writing and to experience the Irish countryside with someone who knew the land extremely well. Once there, we traveled, mostly on foot, throughout the countryside in Western Ireland with David and many of his poet, musician and otherwise eccentric friends.

Our days were pretty much the same. We woke in our lovely cottages in the seaside town of Ballyvaughn, had breakfast with our cottage mates, then walked to the main house for tea and coffee, and shared the stories and poems that we had written along the way. Then we’d hike together for the rest of the morning, which always managed to produce some amazing revelations, either from the earth or the stones or the animals, about life, love, the universe and nature.

After our morning jaunt, we usually had a hearty lunch at a pub or restaurant and then more ambling in the afternoon, followed by a late afternoon nap back at the cottage. In the evenings, we were entertained by local musicians or simply had a few pints at the pub and shared stories — with plenty of laughter. All in all, it was my idea of the perfect vacation.

One day, after a particularly strenuous hike, we arrived in a small town, anxious to plunk ourselves down at the pub for food and drink at lunchtime. As we drove into the town square, we all noticed a bright red phone booth and immediately expressed our desire to call home before lunch. We’d not had any Internet or phone access for about five days, so the idea that we could call loved ones, check voicemail or touch base with work associates seemed like a luxury. We exited our vans quickly and immediately lined up at the phone booth to make our calls. I ended up last in line — mostly because others seemed to have a more pressing need to call family and work. It was fine with me; I wasn’t in a hurry to call home.

As I stood in line, I noticed how much the light kept changing — not at all unusual for Ireland at the beginning of June when blasts of rain and wind can come up without warning to produce a mini-torrential downpour and, within the next moment, be gone as quickly as they came. I also noticed a gentlemen standing just outside the door of the pub, under a small bit of roof overhang, smoking a pipe. He donned a woolen cap and wore the typical wool blazer, you so often see on the farmers and field workers in Ireland, complete with a few holes and well-worn patches at the elbows.

He watched us Americans in our waterproof jackets, hiking shoes and nylon pants, with walking sticks in hand and backpacks slung over our shoulders. Here we were, all lined up at the only phone booth for miles around, looking anxiously at whomever was on the phone trying to be patient for our turn. I wondered what he must think of us as he stood so still and contemplative, pipe smoke drifting up around his capped head. He appeared infinitely patient compared with the anxiety and anticipation that circulated within our group.

It seemed odd to be so excited about a phone call, but we’d all grown up with the ability to pick up the phone at anytime, anywhere and get the information we needed. So this felt like our big chance! I watched as each person emerged from the phone booth, some with satisfied expressions, having made the connection they’d hoped for. Others, with disappointed faces, not having been able to connect with the person they were trying to reach. Who could explain this phenomenon of picking up a phone receiver, holding it to your ear, putting some money into a box, and then within a few seconds, hearing the voice of another person who was thousands of miles away from you? “Hello?” they would answer, and there you were in a bright red phone booth in a tiny Irish town no one had ever heard of, speaking to them as though they were sitting right next to you.

Now that, I thought, is a mystery. I know someone could explain how it all works to me at least mechanically and technologically. But I was baffled by the idea itself. Perhaps because I’d gone for five days without using a phone, it dawned on me what an amazing thing it was that we could do this. I’d never thought about it before. But now it seemed to be nothing short of a miracle that technology had enabled this tool for people to connect emotionally and intellectually in a fairly intimate fashion over such great distances. I remember distinctly thinking, “Goodness me, what other mysteries exist in my life that I take for granted?”

As the line got smaller, I gave more thought about who to call. I began to get excited about talking with my mother to let her know how I was. She was always so happy to hear from me, and she would love the idea that I was calling from a red phone booth in Ireland somewhere.

Just as my turn for the booth was getting close, the skies turned black and a sudden downpour soaked me to the bone. The person before me was just finishing his call, but until he did, I stood waiting in the rain. As he quickly opened the glass door to the booth, I heard a quick, “I’m so sorry,” as he made a mad dash for the pub. I got in the booth and, as the rain beat loudly on the metal roof, I realized that the deafening sound would prevent me from hearing anyone on the other end of the line. I waited, feeling like an idiot to be standing in a glass box, while the rain thundered across the town square in huge sheets of water. The man at the pub’s doorway, continued to smoke his pipe and made a slight adjustment of his legs, so that his right foot scooted back under the overhang, which now dripped incessantly from the rain.

As the windows to the phone booth steamed up, it became impossible to see what was happening outside, and it made my waiting for the storm to pass even more vexing. Then, as the rain began to dissipate, I picked up the receiver in hopes of making my call. The phone was dead. I would not get to make a call after all. All I could do was wait for the storm to pass so I could make my way into the pub.

After five or so long minutes, I began to see the inside of the booth lighten up, and I knew that it was over. As I emerged from the booth, I was happy to see rays of light streaming through fast-moving clouds and everything within my sight was twinkling as tiny bits of raindrops sparkled in the sunlight. What a miracle, I thought. The world around me was refreshed and enlightened.

I made my way across the now muddy main street to the front door of the pub. The Irish gentleman still stood there, now poking at the bowl of his pipe with a well worn metal tool, looking intently at its contents. As I approached, he looked right at me, eye to eye, heart to heart. His eyes were so bright and present that they disarmed me. I was suddenly embarrassed by the intimacy and buffered it by making small talk. “Gosh,” I exclaimed, “that was quite a storm!” He looked up at the sky for a brief moment and then back at me. “It’s a mystery,” he responded. The total acceptance in his voice and the presence in his eyes rendered me silent. We stood, in that moment, looking into each others eyes in complete silence. There was nothing else to say. It was a mystery, and it was perfect.

As I sat in the pub a few moments later with a pint in my hand, I realized how right he was. It’s really all a mystery, I thought. It’s all a matter of how you see it. You can take it all for granted and not see the great mystery or beauty in anything, or you can experience just the opposite. Every leaf of grass, as Walt Whitman said, is a miracle. In that moment, I knew that the great mysteries of life are just that and need no further explanation. The wise Irishman at the doorway had allowed me to see it simply for what it was — no need to analyze, no need to investigate, no need to explain — just a mystery. And being fine with that was the gift he gave me in that moment.

Take notice of the mysteries in your life. Perhaps it’s the shrubs in your yard beginning to grow new buds. Maybe it’s the color of your teammate’s sweater that matches the color of her eyes. How about the first bite of a warmed morning muffin or a sip of scrumptious red wine? Notice the changing weather this time of year from cold and rainy to bright and sunny, all within a few minutes span. Last weekend, I saw three different rainbows emerge across the city and was reminded again of life’s great mysteries.

See these mysteries and try being content with just observing them. Try experiencing them instead of explaining them. Allow them to seep into you like water into a sponge. Be with them just as they are.

As the great author Paulo Coelho wrote, “We have to stop and be humble enough to understand that there is something called ‘mystery.’”

 

Kathleen



 


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
The Power of Saying No

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
 


The subject of this post is about the concept of “neti-neti.” This phrase comes from Sanskrit and means “not this, not this.” These are important words for me. I first heard them from my wise therapist when I was 45 years old. I was starting to say “no” a lot more often in my life and couldn’t quite figure out why that was. I didn’t think it was bad. In fact, every time I said “no” to someone or some thing, I found it liberating. So it wasn’t the “no” that bothered me but rather the fact that previously in my life, I’d said “yes” to just about everything. And that turned out not to be the best response to many of the things that kept popping up in my life.


For example, once an old friend called and asked if I wanted to go out to a local bar to hear some music with her. We had a history of going to these kinds of places, drinking too much and attracting some rather unsavory characters at the bar or on the dance floor. Regardless of how the evening turned out, I always regretted waking up the next morning hungover and deeply depressed that I’d made such bad choices the night before. This time, when she called, a deep sense of certainty arose in me and I said, most emphatically, “No thanks.” She replied, “Maybe some other time.” And I remember thinking, there won’t be some other time.


As I hung up the phone, I felt free. I finally had the courage to say “no” to her, and I knew in that moment that I could let it all go. All the judgment I’d had about my actions when she and I went out drinking together, all the lack of self-trust that came from not making good decisions for myself, all the pain that came from wanting love and affection and looking for it in the wrong places. Just two words, “No thanks,” and poof — I was released from all that drama and destructive behavior.


It felt so good that I began saying “no” more often in a variety of different situations — with my family, at work, with my diet and even with my crafty cat, who seemed to have a way of manipulating me into saying “yes” to him more often than was good for either of us. I began saying “no” all over the place, and it began to worry me that perhaps I was becoming a really negative person. What if I said “no” to something that was actually a good opportunity for me?


In describing this to my therapist, she told me about neti-neti. She explained that with age comes wisdom, and part of that wisdom is the ability to make good distinctions. Understanding and being able to act upon what we know is good for us as well as what’s not good for us is key to our emotional maturity and well-being.


What I found most interesting about neti-neti was that I could say “no” to something and not necessarily know what the “yes” alternative was. Consequently, rather than “No, I don’t want this, but I do want that,” it was just fine to say, “No, not this.” I often didn’t know what the new “this” would be, but the space that was presented once I turned away from something and before I embraced something new was a wonderful place of innocence and curiosity. It encouraged exploration instead of certainty, and it gave me room to stretch and see the world differently. It became a place to rest without fear and without the pressure that comes along with taking on something new.


I began experimenting with neti-neti at work. I would be working on a project, and although the work I was doing was good, I also knew it wasn’t my best. But my constant urge to get it done would override my desire to do the best quality job. I tried objectively looking at the results from time to time, and rather than feel compelled to finish, I would allow myself to look at it in finer detail. I began to hear it in my head — I’d look at one part of the project and see that it needed refining. Then the words “neti-neti” would come. Other times, I could clearly see that the work I was doing was just right, and it got a resounding “yes.” I would find myself in business meetings, and when someone began to behave in a way that was unprofessional, I would hear it again, “neti-neti.” I would go to the museum to look at art, and the lack of good composition in a painting or the wrong color palette would evoke the words again, “neti-neti.” Listening to music became even more interesting as the discerning neti-neti would review the notes I was hearing and make its determination. Ironically, I remember thinking that if I listened to discordant music it would evoke the neti-neti more often, but the opposite happened. Now that I had a better way of making distinctions, I was more open minded to all kinds of music, not just familiar or simple melodies.


Try experimenting with neti-neti. Maybe you’re having trouble breaking an old habit — for example, having three glasses of wine at night for dinner instead of one. Try saying “neti-neti” to the second and third glasses. Perhaps you find yourself working late at your job too many nights a week and then feel guilty as you drive home, knowing your spouse will not be happy with you. Try saying “neti-neti” to the urge to stay late for one day a week and go home at 5:30. See how it feels as you drive away from the office. Or maybe you say “neti-neti” to the feelings of guilt and try accepting that working late, at least for now, is what you need to do to succeed.


A more open mind was one of the major by products of cultivating the neti-neti. It helped me see things with a finer eye, a more discerning ear and a more open heart. I never would have imagined that the ability to say, “This is not for me” would offer me more and better choices than when I always said “yes.”


Try using neti-neti this week. See if it works for you!


 


Kathleen




 


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
Disagreeing Without Being Disagreeable

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
 


This post is about the importance of disagreeing without being disagreeable in the workplace.


Last week, I acted as a mediator between two colleagues at a client company. Their disagreements had become so polarizing that the project they were working on together had come to a standstill. I don’t claim to be a professional mediator, but sometimes when coaching people, I find myself acting as an objective go-between to help people move forward when they get stuck in their opposite points of view.


Extreme extroverted and introverted behaviors lead to many conflicts. Extremely extroverted behaviors rant and rave to dominate and drive others or scare them into submission. Extremely introverted behaviors will not respond and often dominate the room with their inaction — what we refer to as “passive aggressive” behavior. None of these behaviors is helpful, and you can see how these polar extremes have no middle ground. They not only stop progress, but they can have a strong negative impact on other team members.


We often see behaviors that aren’t quite this extreme but fall into one camp or the other. It can be really frustrating to be part of a team with individuals who like to square off by either dominating or avoiding a conversation.


“The key to handling a conflict lies in how you approach it, not in the conflict itself.” This sage advice comes from “Disagreeing Without Being Disagreeable,” an article written by professional trainers Anne Baber and Lynne Waymon. In their piece, they outline examples of how you might disagree with a teammate’s behavior and offer good ways to communicate about it.


Here are some great suggestions for how to deal with disagreements successfully, paraphrased from Baber and Waymon’s article.


Let’s say you notice that many of your colleagues check their e-mail or text messages on their phones during your weekly staff meetings. This activity is disturbing when you’re trying to pay attention to whoever is leading the meeting, and you think it’s disrespectful. If the meeting leader says up front that it’s fine for people to check email, then that’s one thing. But generally meetings are called so that everyone can pay attention and offer input, and that’s hard to do when you’re multitasking.


How would you approach your team members about this? First, you could describe to your fellow team members in a nonjudgmental way that you notice they read e-mails during staff meetings. Second, you could describe the impact you see the behavior has on the rest of the team that is trying to pay attention. “I know that your experience with this project will help us avoid a lot of problems down the road. But I notice that we come to conclusions without your input because you’re often checking e-mail instead. We ask for your input, but because you’re not hearing what we’re saying, we have to repeat ourselves or start over to bring you up to date. Perhaps we should start our meetings later in the day so that you can take care of e-mail before we meet. I bet we could finish our meetings in half the time if everyone was really paying attention and actively participating.”


The four steps taken in the above scenario are as follows:


    

  1. Describe what happened in a nonjudgmental voice.
    2. 

  2. Explain the impact of the behavior on you, a customer, team members or anyone else associated with the team.
    3. 

  3. Specify what you want in observable, measurable terms.
    4. 

  4. Explain the results that could come from the solution.
    5. 



The next example is one that many of us have experienced. You work with someone who takes too many personal calls. This situation is difficult because many of us live complicated lives, and calls from family members, babysitters, nannies, teachers, contractors and such are hard to control — and we usually feel the need to answer them immediately. However, if your company has policies that restrict the amount of time taken away from work to deal with personal business, this phenomenon needs to be managed.


If you believe a colleague is taking a lot of personal calls, first observe the person to confirm that this is true. Then find a good time and place to approach him or her about it. Interrupting someone in the middle of the workday by walking up and saying, “I notice that you’re making too many personal calls,” won’t work. All you end up with is an angry, flustered co-worker who feels embarrassed and who most likely will become defensive immediately. Instead, ask if you can talk with the person later in a neutral space, such as the lunchroom or a conference room. During your meeting, let your colleague know that you think he or she is being frequently interrupted by phone calls or texting. Express that you’re worried about the impact this is having on his or her work and ask if it’s possible to keep personal phone calls or messages restricted to two or three a day. Remind your colleague that most of his or her teammates adhere to this standard and ask if he or she thinks it’s possible to keep personal calls to this number. Let your colleague know that emergencies are an exception.


None of us are born knowing how to deal with conflict. It’s something we have to learn. Baber and Waymon offer the following suggestions for communicating more successfully when dealing with conflict and disagreements:


    

  • Choose a good time and place for your conversation. Knowing that the message you’re delivering will probably not be easy to receive, pick a neutral place to meet with your teammate.
    • 

  • Say what you want. You’ll be far more successful saying what you want the person to do rather than focusing on what you don’t want. For example, “I notice that you take a lot of personal phone calls at work. It would be helpful if you could be mindful of how many calls you take so you’re not interrupted so often,” instead of “Don’t take personal calls at work.”
    • 

  • Use a firm but friendly tone of voice. Maintain a professional atmosphere and stay calm. This will invoke a similar state of mind and emotional tenor with your teammate.
    • 

  • Listen first. Don’t be surprised if your teammate is immediately defensive. Listen and ask more questions rather than making definitive statements.
    • 

  • Lighten up. Most problems and disagreements aren’t so serious if you can really laugh about them. Most behaviors we observe in the workplace are ones we’ve done ourselves, so take a lighter tone with someone you’re asking to change. He or she will get the message — you don’t have to shout or demand it.
    • 



Try dealing with disagreements by not being disagreeable. We all have behaviors that are irritating to others at work. Learning constructive ways of dealing with them is one of the keys to success.


 


Kathleen




 


 


 


 


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
How Feedback and Feedforward Change Your Professional Impact

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
Think about the last time you gave a presentation. How did it go? Did you say “um” or “like” too often? Stand stiffly? Speak too quietly or too high-pitched? Did you rely on PowerPoint to carry your message, with slides that bored the audience? Seeing or hearing ourselves afterward can be a shock, but it’s often the only way to realize how we come across.


Studies show that our behaviors in presentations reflect our everyday communication patterns—they’re habitual, even if we don’t notice them. Without outside perspective, it’s difficult to see—and change—these habits. That’s why feedback is so valuable: it helps us understand how our actions impact others and why we are sometimes misunderstood.


Yet most of us resist feedback, even when delivered carefully.  Feedback is often hard to receive because it’s based on what’s already happened and we can’t change the past. That’s where feedforward comes in. Coined by Marshall Goldsmith, feedforward is future-focused guidance. For example, instead of saying, “You didn’t delegate enough,” feedforward would frame it as, “Going forward, you could distribute more tasks to your team to lighten your load.” It emphasizes improvement, not past mistakes, and invites collaboration on solutions.


Asking for feedforward allows us to:


    

  • Discover how our behavior affects others
    • 

  • Receive actionable suggestions for improvement
    • 

  • Build trust and investment in one another’s success
    • 



It’s a beneficial exercise to ask a teammate for feedforward. Ask them to observe your behavior in a meeting or offer ideas on how you could be more effective—whether it’s your tone, messaging, or collaboration. Similarly, offer your own constructive observations to help others grow.


I remember a former boss who routinely asked, “What can I do to help you be more successful?” At first, it felt uncomfortable, but it created a culture of mutual feedback and improvement that benefited everyone.


Experiment with feedforward and see how it changes the way you work—and relate—with others.


Kathleen


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
The Value of Taking a Risk

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
I play it pretty safe. Over the years,  I’ve observed that I’m pretty conservative about the way I live my life. I keep money in savings. I try not to spend too much and pay off my credit cards each month. I stay in touch with family and friends, sometimes not as often as I’d like. I get just enough exercise and try to eat what’s good for me. I try to use the advice my father gave me of “everything in moderation.”


In my business, I’m the same way. I made sure I got a good, solid coaching education before I went into the business. I use many of the same tools I’ve used for years that are tried and true. I rely on referrals for new business (no major marketing campaigns for me!), and I don’t charge my clients too much for my services compared to many in my profession.


Many of my clients play it safe as well. They go to work each day to jobs that are pretty demanding at times but that don’t require huge changes in how they approach their day-to-day challenges. Some of my clients take more risks in their jobs than others, depending on the demands of their role in the organization, but these people sometimes tend to play it safe in their personal lives. I remember one client saying to me, “I have no problem taking risks when I’m negotiating a deal for the company, but when it comes to my personal life, no way!” Perhaps one of the tenants I learned in my training is true: We tend to attract people whose values are similar to our own.


Occasionally, I work with folks in startup companies who love the energy that comes from taking risks. For them, taking a real risk might mean sitting quietly for a day rather than letting the startup pace speed them through one task after another. What would they do if they couldn’t get swept up in that momentum for a day? What would it mean to just stop for a day? Pretty risky proposition for someone who loves the speed and high intensity of a startup.


Over the past week in my coaching training, something began to dawn on me. How long had it been since I had taken a risk? When I changed professions from recruiting to coaching, I took a risk. Most of my recruiting clients didn’t even know what coaching was (I’m not sure I knew what coaching was back then) because the profession was in its infancy. Try telling a customer who’s come to you for one service that he or she really needs a different service. You get a lot of “not interested” comments in return.


I took a risk when I pulled up stakes in California after 20 years and moved to Oregon. I only knew a few people in Portland, and I knew very little about the city or its culture. But I remember distinctly knowing that leaving the Bay Area was what I needed to do. I just wasn’t at all sure that Portland was the right place to land.


Taking those risks changed my life for the better in more ways than I imagined. It wasn’t as though everything in Portland turned out to be perfect. There were lots of challenges and obstacles to overcome — plenty of scary moments when I thought, “What have I done?” or “Why did I do this?”


What I see in retrospect is that the hardest part of taking the risk was changing how I looked at the losses and gains. Taking a risk requires a change in mindset. You have to go from focusing on what you’ll lose to what you’ll gain. You have to keep your mind on the benefits that taking the risk can bring, rather than focusing on the losses. And it means not allowing yourself to wallow in regrets when things don’t go exactly as you hope they will. My good friend Kimberlee completely changed her life five years ago when she left a high-powered corporate job and moved to southern France. She recently wrote on her blog, “After years of saying, ‘If only,” I’m now saying, ‘It’s only.’” Being comfortable with risk means forgiving and letting go of what used to be and allowing what can become. It’s seeing that taking a risk doesn’t mean your life is coming to an end.


When I attended Marshall Goldsmith’s ‘Stakeholders Centered Coaching’ years ago,  I realized that the time was right to take some risks in my business. I went to the training looking for some new tools to sharpen up my coaching. What I received was a totally new way to offer my services and run my business. Many of the ideas and processes that the trainers shared changed my perspective on coaching. For example, I learned that without regular input from your major stakeholders, your direct reports, your boss, your spouse, the incentive to actually change behaviors isn’t strong enough. Coaching is really all about helping people change the behaviors that are preventing them from being successful.


The use of 360-degree feedback is prevalent in most organizations because it’s a way to get feedback from your stakeholders on how you’re behaving. But just like performance reviews, you get this feedback only once or twice a year. The traditional 360 process has many other pitfalls, too, such as people spending more time trying to guess who the anonymous feedback came from rather than thanking people for their suggestions, or no checks and balances to follow up and see if the person receiving the feedback is actually making changes.


As a coach, when I work with people after they’ve received their 360 feedback, they often focus almost exclusively on the negative comments they received. They generally try to defend themselves with, “They just don’t understand me” or “I know they don’t like me and are trying to sabotage me.” Even the suggestions they think are worthwhile generally only get put into place for a little while before they return to their more comfortable ways of behaving. Net-net: There’s no permanent change in behavior.


In my training, I learned a process that actually ensures behavioral change. Yes, it takes a year to do it, and there are parts of it that can be tedious — because it’s very methodical. But everyone is involved in the process of improvement, and in the end, the entire team wins. So it’s a win-win for the person being coached and all the stakeholders.


This endorsement makes it sound like I can just immediately begin adapting this new approach. But it will be risky, so I’m now faced with the question of whether or not I’m willing to take the risk. What could I lose by doing this and what could I gain?


I’ve asked for this opportunity to take a risk. I hate to admit it because it makes me fearful to think of making fundamental changes in my life. But I also know that when I’ve done this in the past, I have gained so much more than I ever imagined possible. It won’t be easy, but as Chaucer wrote, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”


Ask yourself,  “When was the last time I took a risk?” When did you force yourself out of the comfortable nest you were in to take your first flight? How long has it been since you took a completely different approach to how you do your business or launched headlong into a project that you know will confront you with challenges and obstacles along the way? Rather than focus on what’s preventing you from taking a risk, how about spending the week identifying something you’d really like to do but have been too afraid to attempt? Then take one step toward making it a reality.


Here are four wonderful quotes about risk-taking that I share with you this week to encourage all of us to take a risk.


“People who don’t take risks generally make about two big mistakes a year. People who do take risks generally make about two big mistakes a year.” ~ Peter F. Drucker, management consultant, educator, and author


“You must lose a fly to catch a trout.” ~ George Herbert, poet, orator and priest


“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So, throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor, catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” ~ Mark Twain, writer and humorist


“Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out. ~ James B. Conant, educator and scientist


 


Kathleen


 




 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
Do What Makes You Happy

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
 


 


This post comes from a book I just finished reading, “Short Night of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis” by Timothy Egan. It’s a wonderful book about how the famous photographer Edward Curtis grew up in the Midwest, how he started taking pictures and eventually became the premiere portrait photographer in Seattle, and how he found his life’s mission in photographing and recording the dialects and cultural details of the American Indian.


He did most of his work in the Indians’ natural settings, and although disease and forced relocation reduced native populations to almost nothing, Curtis managed to produce an astounding 20-volume set of books called “The North American Indian,” which has become a national treasure. Somehow Curtis knew that he was photographing and recording a race of people that would possibly be gone forever, and it gave him a sense of urgency that caused him to focus his entire life on this project.


The dedication Curtis had to his project and the love and respect he experienced for the Indians inspires me.


What is it that captures a person so totally that they become completely devoted to a design, a project, an idea? What caused Thomas Edison to create 400 patented product designs within an eight-year period? What makes a professional dancer such as Rudolf Nureyev practice ballet six to eight hours a day, seven days a week to perfect his technique? How does this kind of dedication emerge and take hold of someone so that he or she gives up almost everything else? What drives the dedication?


In Curtis’ case, it started with the faces he saw through the lens of his camera. In the first few portraits of Indians he produced, he saw expressions of pride but also resignation in the faces of his subjects. He saw a wisdom and emotional depth that he didn’t understand but was drawn to. He saw a deep anger and resentment that he would only understand some years later after he had lived with the Indians in their diminished surroundings. He wanted to know more about these people, and because he knew they were disappearing, he knew he had a limited window of time.


Curtis was re-energized each time he arrived at an Indian camp, often after a weeks-long, perilous journey. I knew this was why he kept doing it, even at the expense of his family and financial resources. He loved their ceremonies and rituals, their spiritual beliefs and deep connection to nature, their familial ways and artifacts. They filled his heart in a way that no life in Seattle could, and he felt a deep devotion to making sure the things he loved about their culture would be shared forever.


In reading about Curtis, I began to understand that his happiness came not from dedication to his life’s purpose of recording a dying race of people but from doing what made him most happy. Even if Curtis hadn’t produced “The Native American Indian,” I’m sure he would have found a way to live and work with the Indians he grew to love and respect. Fortunately, the project continued to allow him to do what he loved.


Somehow, all this took me off the hook, so to speak, from having to have a life’s purpose. It’s kind of like being asked when you’re a kid, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” When you’re a kid, you often don’t have a clue and can feel like a real dummy when you reply, “I dunno.


There’s so much talk nowadays, particularly in coaching circles, about needing to have a life’s purpose. I see many of my clients struggling with the big question, “Why am I doing this when it doesn’t seem important?” This attitude fosters scarcity thinking. We focus on what’s missing rather than on an appreciation for what we already have or what we are already doing, which instead fosters an attitude of abundance. When I study people who were so devoted to what they were doing and who, in many cases, had a huge impact on the world around them, I see people who often didn’t start out knowing what their great mission in life would be. They simply stumbled onto something they grew to love and kept doing it. So the real devotion is not to some external purpose but to whatever it is that enriches our heart and feeds our soul.


I feel fortunate that the work I do has meaning and brings me joy. Of course, this doesn’t happen every day, but most days, in one of my meetings with a client, there will be a moment of understanding or a connection made that reminds me of why I do what I do. I get the most joy from getting to the heart of the matter and helping someone find what’s important and then learn to make decisions from that place of clarity. Each time this happens, I feel more renewed and invigorated. I love helping others find paths where they think there are none, illuminate dark places to see what comes to light, maximize strengths, reconnect with the people and activities that bring them joy, and try out different ways of doing things to be more successful. If this makes for a purposeful life, then so be it. But, it’s not the reason I do it. I do it because it makes me happy.


Spend some time exploring what makes you happy in your life and do more of it. First, identify the activities that you’re passionate about and that give you energy. Then, look to see how much time you’re doing those things versus the things that feel like drudgery and take energy from you. There’s always a balance between these two, but find ways to restructure your responsibilities so you’re doing more of what makes you happy.


If you’re beating yourself up for not knowing what your life’s purpose is, just stop. Stop long enough to look out of your eyes and be present to what you’re doing right now. Does it make you happy? Does it give you energy? Do you want to do more of it? It may seem small and insignificant, but some of the smallest moments create the most memory due to their poignancy and our presence.


We all know people who live purposeful lives. It gives them energy to think about how they can continue to do good and help improve the lives of others in this world. I respect their efforts and admire their fortitude. I also know that when asked how they can sacrifice so much to help others, they often say, “It may look like they get all the benefits, but in fact, I’m the one who gets the most out of this.” It’s because what they’re doing makes them happy. And fortunately for us, it’s helping all of us as well.


 


Kathleen


 




 

		


		
	







	
	


		
Remarkable Bosses

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
This post comes from a previous client of mine and his long-time mentor, Roy Gardner. Roy has been a consultant, coach and mentor to many people over the years, and I appreciate his observations of what remarkable bosses do and how they act. There are some great suggestions embedded within the following writing excerpt from Roy. Whether it’s about forgiving and forgetting or inspiring and motivating, try choosing one of Roy’s suggestions to try out this week in your interactions with team members.


“Good bosses look good on paper. Great bosses look great in person; their actions show their value. Yet some bosses go even farther. They’re remarkable — not because of what you see them do but what you don’t see them do. Where remarkable bosses are concerned, what you see is far from all you get: They forgive, and they forget. When an employee makes a mistake — especially a major mistake—it’s easy to forever view that employee through the perspective of that mistake.  I know.  I’ve done it. But one mistake or one weakness is just one part of the whole person. Great bosses are able to step back, set aside a mistake and think about the whole employee. Remarkable bosses are also able to forget that mistake because they know that viewing any employee through the lens of one incident may forever impact how they treat that employee. And they know the employee will be able to tell. To forgive may be divine but to forget can be even more divine. 


“[Remarkable bosses] transform company goals into the employees’ personal goals. Great bosses inspire their employees to achieve company goals. Remarkable bosses make their employees feel that what they do will benefit them as much as it does the company. After all, whom will you work harder for: a company or yourself? “Whether they get professional development, an opportunity to grow, a chance to shine or a chance to flex their favorite business muscles, employees who feel a sense of personal purpose almost always outperform employees who feel a sense of company purpose. And they have a lot more fun doing it. 


“Remarkable bosses know their employees well enough to tap the personal, not just the professional. They look past the action to the emotion and motivation. Sometimes employees make mistakes or simply do the wrong thing. Sometimes they take over projects or roles without approval or justification. Sometimes they jockey for position, play political games or ignore company objectives in pursuit of personal goals. When that happens it’s easy to assume they don’t listen or don’t care. But almost always there’s a deeper reason: They feel stifled, they feel they have no control, they feel marginalized or frustrated — or maybe they are just trying to find a sense of meaning in their work that pay rates and titles can never provide.


“Effective bosses deal with actions. Remarkable bosses search for the underlying issues that, when overcome, lead to much bigger change for the better. They support without seeking credit. A customer is upset. A vendor feels shortchanged. A co-worker is frustrated. Whatever the issue, good bosses support their employees. They know that to do otherwise undermines the employee’s credibility and possible authority. Afterword, most bosses will say to the employee, “Listen, I took up for you, but…” Remarkable bosses don’t say anything. They feel supporting their employees — even if that shines a negative spotlight on themselves — is the right thing to do and is therefore unremarkable. Even though we all know it isn’t.


“They make fewer public decisions. When a decision needs to be made, most of the time the best person to make that decision isn’t the boss. Most of the time the best person is the employee closest to the issue. Decisiveness is a quality of a good boss. Remarkable bosses can be decisive but often in a different way: They decide they aren’t the right person and then decide who is the right person. They do it not because they don’t want to avoid making those decisions but because they know they shouldn’t make those decisions. They don’t see control as a reward.


“Many people desperately want to be the boss, so they can finally call the shots. Remarkable bosses don’t care about control. As a result, they aren’t seen to exercise control. They’re seen as a person who helps. They allow employees to learn their own lessons. It’s easy for a boss to debrief an employee and turn a teachable moment into a lesson learned. It’s a lot harder to let employees learn their own lessons, even though the lessons we learn on our own are the lessons we remember forever.


“Remarkable bosses don’t scold or dictate; they work together with an employee to figure out what happened and what to do to correct the mistake. They help find a better way, not a disciplinary way. Great employees don’t need to be scolded or reprimanded. They know what they did wrong. Sometimes staying silent is the best way to ensure that they remember.


“[Remarkable bosses] let employees have the ideas. Years ago I worked in manufacturing and my boss sent me to help move the production control offices. It was basically manual labor, but for two days, it put me in a position to watch and hear and learn a lot about how the plant’s production flow was controlled. I found it fascinating, and later I asked my boss if I could be trained to fill in as a production clerk. Those two days sparked a lifelong interest in productivity and process improvement. Years later he admitted he sent me to help move their furniture. ‘I knew you’d go in there with your eyes wide open,’ he said, ‘and once you got a little taste I knew you’d love it.’ Remarkable bosses see the potential in their employees and find ways to let them have the ideas, even though the outcome was what they intended all along. 


“Leadership is like a smorgasbord of insecurity. Remarkable bosses worry about employees and customers and results. You name it, they worry about it. That’s why remarkable bosses go home every day feeling they could have done things a little better or smarter. They wish they had treated employees with a little more sensitivity or empathy. Most important, they always go home feeling they could have done more to fulfill the trust their employees place in them.  And that’s why, although you can’t see it, when they walk in the door every day remarkable bosses make a silent commitment to do their jobs even better than they did yesterday.”


 


Kathleen


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
Noticing the Coming of Spring

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
 


Four times a year, we have an opportunity to take notice of the changing seasons. We often don’t tune in to the seasonal changes because our lives are so busy. We don’t rely on the heat of the sun in spring and summer to keep us warm. And when we need food, we just go to the grocery store to buy what we want. But ultimately, our warmth and our food do come from nature, and the coming of each new season is a reminder of that.


Winter is a time of dormancy and hibernation. Try leaving the cocoon of your warm bed on a dark, cold morning — every effort you make seems the opposite of what the environment is telling you to do. Conversely, try staying in bed on a bright summer morning, when the birds are singing and the earth is fully awake. It’s tough to lie in bed when you’re being encouraged to get up and do things. Mother Nature sends us very clear messages about each season, and it’s up to us to either embrace them or ignore them.


This morning, I wandered just beyond our Oregon coast home as the world stirred awake. The sun crept through a veil of fog and low clouds, scattering golden shafts of light across the majestic Columbia River. A tree nearby trembled with the restless energy of robins, eager to probe the soft earth for fat, wriggling worms. In the greenhouse, tiny seedlings stretched toward the warmth, readying themselves for their turn in the garden’s sunlit theater. Overhead, a V-shaped flock of geese cut through the sky with effortless grace, a ritual repeated each year as reliably as the seasons themselves.


Beneath my feet, the soil had transformed; what was brown and bare a month ago now shimmered with fresh green, a delicate carpet of life. Here and there, bursts of color hinted at wildflowers just beginning to bloom. In moments like this, I feel carried back to a quiet center within myself, where I can pause, breathe, and listen to nature’s gentle proclamation: “It’s a fine morning, and all is right with the world.”


As I headed back to the house, I saw some daffodils beginning to peak out of the ground — only ¼ inch tall, but nonetheless, bright green shoots poking up from the dirt. This made me smile and reminds me of the courage these lovely flowers have each year, popping up without fear of frost or ruin from a sudden late winter storm.


Courage and boldness are what spring is all about. This is when nature says, “Be bold. Don’t be afraid to grow and flower.” It’s when all animals, birds, bugs and bees wake up and rejoice in the coming of plentiful food and more agreeable temperatures. It’s when nature encourages us to grow and expand, to create and reach out for more opportunities.


As this season emerges, observe how the energy of springtime encourages activity and boldness. Try getting out to greet what little bits of spring are beginning to emerge. In preparation for the full-blown emergence of the season, think about what you’ll do over the next few months to boldly take advantage of spring’s active energy. What may have seemed too hard to do in winter, might just seem possible with the coming of spring. How about using the vibrant energy of the season to do something you otherwise would consider risky?


Author Christopher Morley wrote,


“April prepares her green traffic light and the world thinks ‘Go.’”


Spring gives us the oomph that seems so inaccessible on a wintry day. How will you use it to enrich your life and take you beyond your limitations?


I’m not naïve enough to think that just because Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see his shadow yesterday morning, that the Pacific Northwest won’t dump more winter on us.  But the daffodils won’t retreat, and the robins won’t fly away. They know that spring is around the corner, and they will remind me that I can take advantage of the season to be bold and to revel in its beauty.


As Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote,


“And Spring arose on the garden fair,


Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;


And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast


rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”


 


Kathleen




 


 


 


 


 


 


 

		


		
	







	
	


		
Clear Communication in Times of Crisis

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
This post was written at the request of a technology manager I work with who wanted guidance on an all-too-common scenario: How to make decisions and communicate appropriately during times of crisis and high stress.


When something goes wrong—a major server outage, a system failure, or a missed deadline—how does one explain what’s happening, attempt to fix it and respond appropriately to managers when all they want to hear is that the problem has been fixed or the deadline will be met? In such situations, pressure mounts, and pretty soon the people trying to fix the problem want to throw up their hands and say, “I quit,” while the management continues to say, “Just fix it, now!”


In times of high stress, people tend to behave in one of three ways. Some people go immediately into activation mode, that is, they jump in and attack the problem with a strong sense of urgency. Other people go immediately into analytical mode by collecting all the relevant information, analyzing the problem and only then coming up with a solution. And,  some people disappear altogether due to an inability to deal with stressful situations.


For example, I once witnessed a phone outage in a call center. Some of the supervisors were immediately up out of their chairs, talking with their phone representatives, and trying to address the problem with action. Other supervisors were on their computers trying to assess the problem by reviewing the numbers, and then determining who in the command center was taking care of it and what the overall impact would be on the business.


Interestingly enough, when the phones went back up and all the supervisors met to discuss what happened, everyone had something worthwhile to contribute, both those who immediately went to their phone representatives and those who spent time analyzing the problem.


Yet the manager of the call center responded most positively to the supervisors who showed a sense of urgency. Most leaders are motivated by results and are easily frustrated by people who begin with research rather than action. I’ve heard more than one business leader say, “What’s wrong with these people? The place is falling apart, and they’re analyzing our downfall instead of turning it around!”


Clearly, telling business leaders the truth when they don’t want to hear it is daunting. Sometimes we don’t know what the problem is; other times, we can’t promise it will be fixed on schedule. Sometimes we can’t even be heard, if leaders spend most of their time trying to give sometimes ineffectual orders and definitely don’t want to hear that their directions aren’t going to be carried out.


Speaking truth to power is challenging for all of us, especially if there’s a history of negative consequences. I remember one senior director telling me, “I don’t care what the problem is, I’d much rather have them tell me the truth immediately than shy away from it and have it broadside me later. I don’t care how bad it is or how much someone screwed up: Just tell me the truth, and we’ll deal with it.” The same director, however, upon hearing that an important customer’s order had been botched threatened to fire the people responsible if it ever happened again.


The same situations can crop up in our personal lives. How many times do we shy away from tough conversations with family members or friends because we are afraid of the other person’s response? Speaking the truth to anyone is difficult; speaking the truth to those who have a say in our livelihood or whose opinion of us matters is even more challenging.


But as Winston Churchill said, “Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is what it takes to sit down and listen.” Whether we are the purveyor or the receiver of bad news, handling the truth is an act of trust. Trust is at the heart of all healthy relationships, and we cannot trust people who don’t tell us the truth or who withhold information because they’re afraid to share it.


During times of crisis, it is especially important to be honest about what we see and communicate it to the best of our ability. Conversely, we need to listen to what’s being said and honor the person saying it. The more we can lessen our resistance to the truth and remove impediments to action, the faster any crisis can be resolved.


Kathleen



		


		
	







	
	


		
Don’t Judge a Book By It’s Cover

		
	


		

	


	
	


	


		

			
 


This post is a follow up to my previous post entitled “The Importance of Emotional Connection.” That piece focused on my experience with a surgeon and other healthcare providers when I had nose surgery right before this past Thanksgiving. This post is the follow-up to that piece as well as an important lesson.


You may recall that my doctor’s lack of attempt to emotionally connect with me made my surgery doubly difficult. And it wasn’t just his inability but also the lack of effort made by the nurses and other health professionals to make any sincere connection with me. When we work with others in any capacity, I think it’s important to make an effort to emotionally connect, even if it’s only to make eye contact or to ask how they’re doing. Without this connection, it’s difficult to establish trust, and without trust, it’s difficult for people to work together. In my view, it’s what my doctor needed to do to be really successful. If he continued to leave the heart out of his interactions with his patients, he wouldn’t become the compassionate healer that most of us desire in our health professionals.


Here’s how I put it in the first post:


“For Dr. Han to really be successful, he will need to spend some time working on his emotional intelligence. He will need to learn how to connect with his patients so that he has a better understanding of how they are feeling. I don’t recommend that his empathy get in the way of his expertise but taking time to actually see the person he is treating will help him be a better doctor, a more compassionate healer and a more intuitive human being.”


Last week, I went back to see my doctor for my eight-week, follow-up appointment. As I sat in the waiting room, I prepared myself for the same experience I ‘d had at my previous visits to see him. I knew what would happen: I would walk into the examining room and wait for the doctor to come in. He would enter the room, probably shake my hand, not look me in the eye, shine a light up my nose, make some comments about my recovery, give me advice about what to do next and be gone. “It will be exactly the same,” I thought, “and probably even worse since I’m doing fine and he’s pretty much done with me. No emotional connection whatsoever. Oh well. His loss. If he doesn’t care enough to really be attentive to me or to authentically inquire about how I’m doing, too bad for him.” As I walked to the examining room, I thought, “This time I’m ready for his cold, dispassionate approach.”


And then he walked into the room.


“Hi Kathleen,” he said with a huge smile on his face. He looked me right in the eyes, walked over to me and held out his hand. As he shook my hand, his other hand reached over and patted me on the shoulder, “How are you doing? I mean, you look great … still a little swollen, but that nose is healing really well. What do you think?” Frankly, I almost fell off the stool. Was this the same guy? The cold, uncaring surgeon I had experienced was suddenly transformed into a happy, caring, approachable guy who seemed sincerely interested in what my experience had been. How could this be? I had him pegged, and now he was being just the opposite of what I had defined him to be.


Our appointment was as different this time as you could ever imagine. He asked me great questions. He listened to me and never took his eyes away from mine when I spoke. He seemed genuinely interested in how I was doing. At the end of our appointment, I believed him when he said, “I’m so glad you’re breathing better, and this is working for you. I don’t feel successful unless my patients are really happy with their results.”


As I walked out of the doctor’s office that day, I realized I had just learned a great lesson. If we’re so quick to define people by our first experiences with them, we run the risk of not noticing that they are more than that. If we put them in a box and label it “unable to emotionally connect and therefore, deficient,” as I did with my doctor, we might just leave them in that box. Then if they exhibit a different kind of behavior that’s outside of that box, we don’t see it.


By putting my doctor in a box and labeling him, I end up losing the most. My doctor is still what he is. If I only see him the way I initially defined him, then I’m the one who’s actually trapped in a box — a box labeled, “narrow-minded.” If I can’t see that he’s actually more than what my first impressions revealed, then I miss out and my narrow opinions stay intact.


It’s worth noticing the thoughts and feelings you have about others. Are you convinced that they’re a particular way because that’s been your only experience of them? Do you believe that’s the only way they’ll ever be? Are you unable to see that most people have lots of different behaviors and states of mind and heart, depending on their day, their stress level, their own experiences? What would you need to do to be able to look at someone anew?


The irony of the situation with my surgeon was not lost on me. By being so quick to define my doctor as lacking in emotional intelligence, I lacked the ability to see him differently and ran the risk of shutting down my own emotional intelligence in the process.


As my mother used to say, “Never judge a book by its cover.” I used to think she told me that because it would be unfair to the person I was judging. Now, I know that the person who really loses in that situation is me. By judging the book by its cover, you never open the book to read it — and that’s where the real story begins.


 


Kathleen


 


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