A lovely, thoughtful moment courtesy of – one more time – The Story People.
Category: mindfulness
As Friday Begins To Wind Its Way Down
A beautiful thought to end the work week and ease into the weekend, courtesy of The Story People…
We all are a part of something far bigger than we can imagine. Still, I hope this weekend brings you reason to sing, marvel at the small things that we typically never see and pause one moment to consider the fantastic wonder of it all. That’s the best karma you can be offered – accept it with an open hand. Until next time…
Shoop Shoop Shoop – Are You With Me?
Driving home from yesterday’s 4th training session, the “Shoop Shoop Song” from “Waiting To Exhale” was playing in my head. In many ways it’s also the perfect Friday song, and given some of the posts I’ve read this week, it’s appropriate for the end of what appeared to be a tough week. Seems like a lot of us spent much of the week just waiting to let it go…
“And sometimes you’ll laugh, and sometimes you’ll cry
Life never tells us the whens and whys
But when you’ve got friends to wish you well
You’ll find your point when you exhale…”
You can add the ‘shoop shoops’ yourself – there are a lot of them.
Yesterday, I facilitated the last training session with the remarkable group of people of whom I’ve written before. Next week, a colleague will join me for the last part of the program. So in some ways, I had to say good-bye to a dynamic which has fueled, inspired and challenged me once a week for the month. We’ll have a great time next week, and the team united as we know will morph naturally by the presence of a new person. The thought of the upcoming farewells has my stomach more than just a little knotted.
Our topic yesterday was Performance Management – with emphasis placed on the fluidity of the process – the need for it to be a constant loop of communication, not the culmination of twelve silent months with no conversation about a person’s performance. We addressed some of the real issues managers grapple with – the star employees who don’t receive enough feedback because ‘they know’ they’re terrific and other people require more attention; the poor performers who supervisors avoid because ultimately the anticipated hostility/tears/aggressive/defensive reaction (pick your adjective) is just too painful to endure. The challenge of actively listening when studies show that adults really attend for about five minutes within a twenty-minute conversation. How commentary is far more critical than a ‘score’ and how to move a firm and its people away from the numbers and in to substantive feedback. Including the employee in establishing goals, and how to build those goals effectively. We went straight through, with a quick break to bring in some lunch, and just kept going until we could go no longer. They crushed it – figuratively and in a good way. The examples provided, support given to those with a tough situation to handle, enthusiasm and trust in each other – all were so impressive. They inspired me more than I can adequately describe. Do you sense a ‘but’ in all of this? Good – I’m so glad you picked that up.
When our sessions end, they go back to work. At best their supervisors ask them if they’re enjoying the program, if they’re getting anything out of it,etc.. That’s it – the curiousity and interest in the manager and his/her development stops there. They are coming away from these meetings with new ideas, a renewed sense of purpose, some thoughts about bettering themselves and their department. There wasn’t one person who affirmed that his/her boss would be interested in pursuing anything other than things as they are. The most frustrating aspect of this reality, is that I just know what will happen to their enthusiasm, focus and intention. Worse still, they do too. I’m committed to being available to them should they need me, but let’s be real – as time passes everyone gets caught up in the rhythm of their days, and without someone encouraging movement and effort from their supervisors, there is an inevitable return to the norm.
If you are a director or C-level officer, are you really giving your direct reports the room, support and mentorship they need? Are you working with them to formulate opportunities to practice that which they’ve learned once training programs end? What’s your stake in their growth and how do you show that commitment? I’m just wondering, because from where I stand this seems to be the most important part of your responsibilities and the easiest one for you to minimize or disregard. I’m just sayin’…I know there are some exceptional senior executives who read this blog – it would be great to know what you do with and for those managers you send for professional development training once they’ve completed the program or class?
I will miss these Thursdays, yet that doesn’t diminish the value they have held for me. I have met outstanding people, forged a bond that is predicated upon a shared desire to do the right thing for those they supervise and for their firms. I wish them all the success, growth and all the happiness their hearts can hold.
So it’s Friday morning, and the sun is slowly rising. The week ends with some exhausted by the emotional toll that the last few days have exacted; others are thrilled that the week has gone so well. For everyone, I hope the time arrives sometime today when you get to exhale. Happy weekend all.
Wednesday Morning Musing
I hope today provides you with moments of happiness, laughter and light traffic (on the road and in your head) …
Sunday Morning
It’s the perfect Sunday morning – good coffee, gentle rain, the New York Times, my husband and me. All in my family are well. My friends and I may not always be skipping through life, but we’re old enough to know that there is far more to be grateful for, than envious of. We’re made stronger by paying it forward and most of us are trying to figure out how to do that more and more. And for all that – I would re-affirm that it is just the perfect Sunday morning. I just wanted to wish you the same – and a smile.
For A Saturday Morning
Enjoy your Saturday – may it begin with a little bit of quiet and calm, and provide you with minutes in between your ‘to-do’ list to just smile at the wonder of it all. I am off to the gym – thanks to David Kanigan’s morning post. 🙂
Thoughts For A Friday Afternoon
As many of you know, I started this adventure in mid-January. I have now had over 4,000 people visit my blog – which I find both wonderful and startling. I realize this is an inconsequential milestone for those of you who have enjoyed much deserved success and readership (I’m probably one of your biggest fans). For me, it is astonishing, very cool and inherently motivating. My new friends who I may never meet in person – but ‘talk’ with all the time through comments and offline written conversations – you set the bar incredibly high and encourage me to reach and try to touch the rarefied space in which you share your thoughts; my old friends – you continue to amaze me with your love and loyalty and willingness to read these musings; my sons and daughters-in-law – I’m so glad I haven’t embarrassed you yet and; those who just happened onto this page – you have filled my head with the happiest of thoughts this Friday afternoon, and my heart with gratitude which is incalculable. I hope your day is replete with smiles – and provides you with as much joy as you have given me.
Who Will Remember?
I wasn’t going to write about this today. A fellow blogger with far greater eloquence than I already posted her compelling thoughts about Holocaust Remembrance Day. My mother was a Holocaust survivor; my sister and I are part of the first generation of her family who were born in the States. We carry some of the neuroses and survivor guilt that is common to those who share such strong genetic connections with those who suffered through a large part of their life instead of living it.
In a metal sewing box of my mom’s are moments frozen in time that I can’t imagine. Unused food tickets for rations of meat, cheese and bread; certified declarations concerning the status (or lack thereof) of my grandparents at various points during the war and after; letters written in German between two sisters who represented a minority of an entire family who survived only in their memories – one settled in Basel, my grandmother in New York; a notarized request from a relative in NY to allow my grandfather to come to the States with a promise that this relative would employ, pay and shelter him (presumably so that the government would know it wouldn’t have to). Some pictures of my mom’s family in Vienna when it was still intact. The only other pictures are of my sister as a baby and toddler – proof certain that life continues with unfathomable beauty and hope.
I was told that after Kristalnacht, my grandfather’s response was to pray more. Ultimately, he and his son ended up in a labor camp, my mother and grandmother escaped to the city of Troyes in France, where they remained until their quota numbers came up. They traveled here on a cattle boat, infamous for its horrid conditions and the unforgivable number of people who died en route. My mother arrived with diphtheria, she had it when she left France. Were it not for the nuns who were willing to lie about her test results (she was being cared for in a Catholic hospital), she would not have been able to get on the boat at all, her quota number rendered worthless. They came with little other than what they were wearing – sterling silver Shabbat candles that my grandmother was able to keep hidden (though I have no idea how), a doll named Lotte…
When my grandfather and uncle followed, the family ended up in a one bedroom apartment, my grandfather got a job a Barton’s Candy Manufacturing. In the metal box is his pension document providing him with a $68.00 retirement benefit. How could it feel to have lived an aristocratic life in a country you could no longer claim as your own, while thanking God every Friday night for the gift of this new life in a one bedroom apartment, where my grandmother did piecework for $.75?
Mom used to have nightmares. She would yell out frantically in her sleep – perhaps we were more aware of them when dad was traveling on business, for there was no one there to reassure her that she was safe in Jackson Heights, Queens. There is no doubt she lived through my sister and I (my sister more than me, for a myriad of reasons), a burden that was pretty heavy for children to shoulder. Yet in retrospect, what kind of life did this woman have as a girl, when she experienced her first ‘introduction to womanhood’ in a bomb shelter, screaming for her mother because she was sure she had been hit? How does one turn sixteen once in the States and ask for a party only to be severely chastised at such selfishness given the reality that six million had died? How does one begin to live? I think through my dad’s gift of play, and the experience of two American children who would never know that growing up could be truly, unimaginably horrible. Mom, this happened to you? This happened to Poppy?
At the core of Eliot Perlman’s new book “The Street Sweeper”, is the repeated plea that our stories – regardless of what they are – be remembered, that we be remembered. Our immortality rests perhaps in the assurance that someone will carry our stories – the proof that we were here. That holds true for all of us – yet on this day of remembrance I needed to bear witness. I remember you everyday, your stories are woven into the tapestry of my life and my heart cannot hold all of my love.
“The Rhythm Of Life”
In the musical “Sweet Charity”, there’s a song with a chorus that often repeats in my head (and occasionally out of my mouth) – “The rhythm of life has a powerful beat/Puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet/Rhythm in the bedroom, rhythm in the street/Yes, the rhythm of life has a powerful beat”
I’m not tingling this morning, let along feeling the beat. I think I’m working off of the kind of hum a light bulb makes before it burns out. Ok, that’s a bit severe – I’m not tired of writing (how can I be when this site is barely four months old), or tired of consulting, or tired of being retired. My rhythm is just off. my sense of timing has been disturbed. Ergo, no tingle.
We got back from four days in Puerto Rico last night. On the flight home, I felt like we had been gone for weeks and began filling my head with my ‘to-dos’ and the ache behind my eyes began. By the time the taxi pulled into our driveway my list had given birth to more lists and I could only isolate the top priorities – check in with the kids, grocery store run, trip to PetsMart for more dog food, piles of critical mail that must need immediate attention…my heart begins to accelerate and I haven’t even put the damn key in the door.
I was wrong on all counts – w-r-o-n-g. The truth of the matter is that the half-and-half didn’t spoil, we have enough coffee, the fruit isn’t rotten (though we could use some bananas), no need to head to PetsMart for another week or more, more junk mail than real mail and lots of emails but none that make me groan with guilt for delaying my response. So – four days is just four days. This is just too much to wrap my head around. How can it be that absolutely nothing critical happened? All just went along as it should. This is clearly a reality for someone smarter than me.
Take me out of my daily environment and I lose all sense of perspective – even when there’s no time difference between where I’ve been and where I’m going. I become part of wherever I am, almost as if there was nothing that preceded it. If ever this truth was underscored, it was made clear to me after a late evening boat trip (we’re talking small motor boat holding no more than eight people) out onto a bay in which bio-luminessence is evident in the blackness of night. To get to the bay, this lone boat winded its way through a narrow lagoon with mangroves for walls and a roof over our head. Through the lagoon there was no sky, no sense of being anywhere other perhaps the set of a Wes Craven movie. Occasionally the Captain would shine a light on a large iguana balanced on a branch, indifferent to the intrusion; ribbons of translucent snakeskin left in aged, gnarled roots, as its owner slithered away at some point comfortable in a newer version of himself/herself; a lone bird sleeping peacefully with feathers that were startlingly white and orange and a beak so black one couldn’t discern its beginning or end (perhaps it was the Pinocchio of the lagoon and had a beak so long it was almost endless). Once out on the bay, the water looked as if it was receiving stars as they fell from the sky. The scientific explanation is that the plankton in this area light up when disturbed, the fish glow as they skip above the water. This nexus of nature’s variables – the type of water, weather, fish, plankton, etc occurs in only four places in the world. The romantic version is even better. A wooden pole in the water left a shiny wake similar in its smoky silver color to that of a witch’s brew. The only distinction between the sky and the water was the sound of the waves lapping against the boat. And stars in the sky don’t jump with such enthusiasm. My hand in the water took on this ethereal glow – so beautiful and shiny I never wanted to remove it for I was sure it held magic. The seven others people sharing this experience were equally awed. At first we all ‘oohed and ahhed’, occasionally we each would marvel aloud..and then quiet seemed more appropriate. It was too magnificent to absorb with anything other than silence.
Captain Suarez and Mingo his assistant were characters out of a novel – maybe Hemingway, maybe not for they were gentle and reverent. Their days-old beards covered the craggy lines that define a life on the water, aging hands that were ropier than those which moored the old boat at the end of the day’s work, broken English that shared their knowledge of astral navigation in a language we all could understand. I asked Mingo why the traveled with little if any light even in the lagoon and he said that one who sailed was supposed to know where they were going by the stars – the light did more harm than good.
You can’t be a part of time like this and not feel with certainty that there is something way bigger than we are. We disembarked with gracious silence. What had we just seen? How do we capture this in our memory? is there any way to do such moments justice? What day is it today?
I can’t say much else happened while we were gone. Our most intrepid friend zip-lined gloriously in the rain forest, my husband golfed (that’s not new), he won more than he lost at the blackjack table. We flew home – gone for not much longer than a long weekend and I’ve misplaced my rhythm.
I read your blogs last night and this morning perpetually shaking my head with wonder at the extraordinary talent of the people I follow (and some that I don’t), wondering how I will ever get back into the swing. I know I will, for life calls regardless of where one may be, and we adjust accordingly. But right now, I am slow to re-enter the music of my day-to-day life while the beat of the last four days still echoes faintly in my head. That’s the beauty and the bane of going away and coming home…I answer to a powerful beat.
Damn You’re Good – Aren’t You?
Well, yesterday was our second of five training sessions and I arrived home as energized and jazzed as I was last week. I am totally smitten with the program attendees (in a purely professional way, of course). I love their enthusiasm, candor, willingness to challenge me and question each other. I am fueled by our shared laughter, engagement and commitment. We’ve got some great mojo working and I’m with them every step of the way. My hunch is that I’ll be with them even when our time together officially ends, for we are becoming invested in the relationships we’re building.
As I was driving home, some of our discussions replayed in my head (along with a series of Motown songs which had absolutely nothing to do with what I was thinking about). I often say that we don’t realize how we are perceived by others – sometimes because we don’t want to know or don’t think it’s important to know. Other times we don’t have an audience that is prepared to tell us. So I’ll ask you – how good are you? And at what?
Take the following test (and don’t feel compelled to share the answers – this is just between us)…
– When was the last time you wrote a genuine, challenging goal – for yourself or in concert with one of your employees? Do you really know how to write one? I’m not talking about the over-used, over-touted SMART goal paradigm. I’m talking about the one that comes from your gut and your imagination – reflective of the knowledge of where you’re heading, where your department should be going and what has to be done once you get there. (Hint – ‘scorch and burn’ is not a goal, though you get one point for using verbs that have some activity associated with them)
– What are you doing to prepare your right-hand person for a promotion, how much have you increased his/her visibility to the powers-that-be? What has that person done for their critical second? Do you have a succession plan in your head and what does it look like? If you’re going to re-organize, does your plan include a concrete intent to re-tool the resources you already have?
– What have you learned from history that bears repeating? What do you wish you had never attempted because it failed so miserably (you get serious points for taking the risk)?
– Is your department terrific because it churns out work? Is that your definition of ‘terrific’? Does it also energize and re-energize itself, share accountability, reflect pride of ownership with strong cross-training opportunities? What have you done to form a team as opposed to a group of people who just happen to work in the same area and for the most part, get along?
– When was the last time you wrote a truly comprehensive, honest performance review which contained no surprises for the recipient – and shared it with the employee? When was the last time you were able to get a straight, candid response from your people about how you’re doing? Is that information important to you really?
You can ask yourself these questions with little modification within the context of your personal life as well. What goals are you setting for yourself? How do you want to ride this carousel – remember, you get only one ticket (unless you’re a cat, in which case rumor has it, you get nine). What steps are you taking to focus on the little wonders that happen around us everyday? I know, I know – this sounds trite and worthy of a good eye-rolling – but have you looked around lately? Our magnolia blooms are resting their heads against the breeze; just the other day a hawk stood poised and still on the roof of our gazebo looking as if it was waiting to have its portrait painted. My son wrapped me up in one of those mega-hugs that provide a transfusion of love that left me in tears (yes, I’m an easy cry – I’ve told you that already). Two barn owls have returned for the season and fill the evening air with their hooting and I hoot right back (a ridiculous exercise, but I’m trying to relate on their terms).
I was looking at pictures of my mom and dad when they were young – wow, they were a gorgeous pair. I miss them daily; I ache to hear my dad call me ‘sweetheart’ or mom saying ‘hi schatzi’. It’s more acute around the holidays, as I make the same meals that my mother did, served with some of the same tableware we had when I was a kid. Am I making sure that I notice life?? Are you? What am I doing to ensure that I live in gratitude and greater humility? Did I laugh enough today? What’s my plan to sustain my energy for this ride and could I do more to make sure I honor this time I’ve been given? How often do I say “I love you” or “You made my day” – how often did I feel like I couldn’t care one way or the other? What are your responses when you ask these questions of yourself?
So – how’d you do? If you had the courage to pose the questions, you’re already ahead of the game. If you have the conviction to re-visit the answers that you may like to change, you’re really good. And the mere fact that you read this all the way through and maybe gave it a little thought – well, that makes you terrific in my eyes. Happy Friday all and Happy Holidays to those who have traditions and beliefs that are honored this weekend.
A Very Happy Anniversary Of Sorts
On March 31st, I celebrated my first year of ‘retirement’. I put the term in quotes, because I don’t know that the word ‘retired’ is applicable – if you scramble the letters around, I think you get to a more appropriate description of my state of mind – ‘tireder’ and/or ‘retried’. I had grown more and more tired of trying to retain a culture and philosophy that in an evolving firm had become outdated and probably to some, pretty hokey. I had tried too often to excite senior management about employee engagement, accountability, career development, and the joys of communicating in any manner that didn’t require technology. At the risk of redundancy, I was so flippin’ lucky – I worked in a firm that embraced me and my crazy commitment until I realized that it was time for me to pack it in. I wasn’t going to be able to contribute anymore – the train was pulling out of the station and I chose not to buy a ticket.
But – it’s still an anniversary. I should get a present or something (note to self – talk to husband). It’s been a year of tremendous growth, with incredible highs coming from places I would never have expected and dark blues that I hadn’t anticipated which gripped some days with vice-like intensity. I’ve learned that retirement doesn’t separate you from your convictions (I know, big duh if you’ve been reading my blog) – I still care as passionately about the principles I followed when I was working full-time. I’ve learned that you are not going to be defined by what you did for a living but how you lived while you were working. Over the course of this past year, I’m sure I have been vilified and canonized – perhaps even at the same time, remembered fondly and with derision – that is the territory of all who have experienced extended employment tenure. And I’ve learned that it really doesn’t matter – what counts is my continued love and commitment to the people who have remained my friends.
I discovered that working independently is both freeing and lonely. A side benefit of going to work each day is having people to engage with, who are also struggling with intense workloads and challenges as well as lives outside of work that they are struggling to stay connected to. The transition from 200 emails in my inbox each morning that required me to accelerate from 0 to 60 pre-coffee, to coffee and the paper first with no rush to get out the door wasn’t easy (though I have come to LOVE it). Connected to that intensity was the implicit need that others had for me in one way or shape or form, and I liked that. Finding a new rhythm was a challenge – knowing I had a groove, but not knowing where the hell I was supposed to dance. Consulting has provided an excellent segue for me – allowing me the freedom of self-exploration with the structure of developing meaningful programs and training opportunities. It’s also given me time to hang with my kids who are local (when they’re not working or with their spouses), go to the gym, make some new friends, be a better friend to my old friends, and continue to fight with a bit more focus on a body that keeps throwing me medical surprises and loops for which I’m never prepared. That old Faces song “Oh La La” reprises in my head “I wish that I knew what I know now/When I was younger”…
Finally I have learned that there are phenomenally talented, generous people out there in Bloggerland who teach me something new every time I read their posts, share a conversation online or exchange a ‘shout out’ in appreciation for their tremendous efforts. These virtual friends evoke very real emotions within me – I celebrate their success, try to answer the questions they pose of their readers, laugh, etc. Sometimes it feels like there’s lots of virtual hugging going on – and quite honestly, long may it continue. These writers have inspired and humbled me. When I started this in mid-January, I had no idea what I was doing. I still don’t – but now it doesn’t bother me as much. There are many more who have been more successful, but there are unquestionably few who have derived more delight and connection than me. So, Happy-Sorta-Anniversary to me…may new adventures still greet me each day. “Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.” — Eleanor Roosevelt (and agreed to this day, by me :-)).
Thought For The Day
Waiting for the Karma Truck 