“unscheduled leave.”

Big in government “speak,” “unscheduled leave” refers, most often, to those icy days when Federal workers are allowed to stay home without making a prior request and/or securing advance permission.  “Unscheduled leave” acknowledges that climate conditions have changed, [...]]]> Particularly if you live in the Washington DC area, you’ve probably heard the phrase

“unscheduled leave.”

Big in government “speak,” “unscheduled leave” refers, most often, to those icy days when Federal workers are allowed to stay home without making a prior request and/or securing advance permission.  “Unscheduled leave” acknowledges that climate conditions have changed, likely suddenly, and, as a result, limited opportunities existed for making alternative arrangements.  The “worker” without backlash can  “stay home from work today.”

Metaphorically, I am just returning from some time “away from work.”   I took unscheduled leave myself.  Perhaps you noticed, maybe not (see bullet on “noticing” below).   About a month ago, I realized that I needed to take a break from my “Wednesday Words.”  I didn’t plan for it, send out a public announcement, pave my way with pleads or permission slips. I just decided – somewhat suddenly, unexpectedly — that conditions had changed.  My ideas had stagnated and the increasing pressure to write had replaced the pleasure.

At first, it is very hard to make or take such a break.

• Routine is paradoxically comfortable – it’s known.
• When we get off any “treadmill,” questions loom. What if I lose my edge?  What if I enjoy my time off too much?  What if I never want to get back on?”
• We fear that people will notice our absence, wonder about it, and assume the “worst” — a decline in our of dedication, interest, capacity, skill.
• By definition, “unscheduled leave” is self-determined.  We alone stand by its legitimacy.  We alone grant “permission.”  We alone have to manage any consequences, the backlash.

Yet, despite these risks, I took unscheduled leave AGAIN — two weeks later — from the gym. My muscles were screaming “REST!”  Usually, it takes me a long time to yield to such screams.    I “listened,” realizing:

• Breaks from churning in the same direction are critical.
• The space that “leave” creates makes room for other options.
• Setting new limits is an important and ageless developmental skill.  Those who are practiced at saying “no” or, better yet,  “not for right now” also find it easier to master alternative forms of “yes.”

Case in point, I’m still working out but with a little more “yes” for stretching instead of just elliptical-ing.  I’ve obviously returned to writing but am trading in an unsustainable bi-weekly Wednesday promise because I want to be able to keep other promises, other professional “yes’.” (e.g. blogging, reading)

My “official” spring break is on the horizon.   We’re  Florida-bound.  This “break” has been scheduled for weeks, driven permissively by school calendars and annual vacation.  It’s time off before and after the planned breaks that requires more attention, is equally important, and harder to make happen.

So…when you are ready for a short-term moratorium on some relentless activity (or even a relentless thought or emotion), consider these questions and see what happens.

• From what would you like to take  “unscheduled leave.”  (Consider specific activities or components to your routine but perhaps also ideas or emotions that drive your regular behavior.)
• What opportunities does unscheduled leave create?
  
• What’s the impact?
• When “leave” is over, how might things change for you in a more long-term way?

FIELD [...]]]> A few days ago, I was thinking about Valentine’s themes about which I could write. I had a brief moment of cynicism when, among my ideas, the phrase “playing the field” rose to the top.  My cynicism was short-lived. I came up with a more positive way of spinning this particular heart-inspired idea.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Backtracking a little, “playing the field” most traditionally refers to the person who is:

dating numerous people but is in no serious relationship.

Responses to typical “playing the field” behavior can be negative especially if you are among the “numerous people,” who hang their hearts differently on these encounters.

I have lived among those “numerous people.”  Yet, I actually do not think there is anything wrong with playing the field.   Allow me to explain.

The experience is not unique.  The general “beat” of our days slows — in love, in work, at “home.”  Something is no longer working.   Our chest pains are by no means life (or long-term love) threatening but are increasing in intensity.

Our tendency in these situations is to fix what ails us, to unclog with a single dose that which is clogged.  I don’t disagree with this approach in general — making the “pain” go away, finding a new love, a new job, a new place — a new way, right away.

Too often, we don’t take the time to play the field.

Playing the field, in essence, means experimenting with a number of different treatments before settling on one.  It is NOT a quick fix.  In the short term, playing the field may exacerbate the symptoms we’re trying to cure  – anxiety-driven sweat and shortness.  As the “informed patient,” we need patience for the prolonged systemic stress and possible side effects.

Yet, playing the field works. When our days’ rhythm no longer keeps our blood flowing, it’s time to give our heart the information and attention it deserves, first identifying and then cultivating a landscape of new experiences that could jump start it. It’s the field that ultimately yields the dream.

• Most traditionally, if your Mr. or Ms. “Right” isn’t so right after all, it’s not the optimal time to settle on the next person but rather broaden the field of people with whom you keep company.   When you least expect it, a new person might awaken you.

• If your work hits a snag, it’s not necessarily the right time to find another job but rather broaden the field of “work” that you do. When you least expect it, a new vocation might awaken you.

• If your “home base”  no longer stimulates or soothes, it’s not necessarily time to move but rather broaden the field of places that you occupy. When you least expect it, a new environment might awaken you.

Many years ago, Kevin Costner’s version of “field of dreams” hung its heart on the following:

If you build it, he will come.

This mantra still makes sense today.  The more fields you play (opportunities you build), the greater the chance that it – as in the dream — will come.

If you’re ready to play the field, consider the following:

• In what areas of your life is your heart currently experiencing a slower or sagging rhythm?
• In response, how can you “play the field?”
• What’s your dream outcome?
• What might stand in your way and how do you overcome the arrhythmia?

For years, I’ve been trying to come up with some connection between the two.   Finally, I  have.

It’s the red carpet and the heart-felt actions it inspires beyond February 14.

I realize that movie stars and musicians, outfitted in borrowed bling, are not the sources of [...]]]> ‘Tis the season of valentines and award shows.

For years, I’ve been trying to come up with some connection between the two.   Finally, I  have.

It’s the red carpet and the heart-felt actions it inspires beyond February 14.

I realize that movie stars and musicians, outfitted in borrowed bling, are not the sources of everyone’s affection.  In fact, we often lose sight of their prize-warranted performances when they are framed in fame and fashion and fans.

Red carpet “treatment” teaches us a lot however  — especially during the season when our eyes focus narrowly on Hallmark and Godiva – about how to love and be loved.

Two specific actions come to mind:

First, the roll.

Rolling, simply defined, is demonstrating love to others.

“They” float from the limo – “she” in any one of a number of  jewel-tones and jewels, “he” in basic “sapphire” (this year’s black).  Then the roll begins – the  carpet beckons, the cameras flash, the chorus of bystanders scream, and confetti-like conversations rain words  of praise  colorfully and ever so lightly.

As cynical as we may be about Hollywood’s interpretation of  rolling,  it should be part of everyone’s behavioral repertoire.  What better time of year to learn everyday lessons about demonstrating affection for those in our personal and professional worlds for whom we have the fondest feelings, greatest respect, the deepest love.

Second, the bask.

Basking, simply defined, is accepting the love of others.

The red carpet eventually ends.  They’re at the finish line.  Then, the bask begins — “she” and “he”  pause, then smile, then wave.  Their arrival culminates in almost imperceptible turns of their chins and hips as they enjoy a  final soaking of the  cameras, the chorus, and the confetti.

Who’s to say whether our sparkling stars truly enjoy the limelight.  It doesn’t matter.  They are great actors and we are students in their master class.  If we can acknowledge the fact that, in its most primitive and authentic form,  basking permits us to accept, like sponges, the adoration of others, we will similarly glow.

As January comes to an end, beware that February is a misleading month.   Cloaked in commercialism, many of us dismiss its premier events as materialistic and disingenuous – the “stuff” of  laminated leading ladies and a holiday that sometimes leads one on. Red carpets capture more fundamental, true, and year-long  “love” behaviors.  This season, consider your own “rolling” and “basking” behaviors by reflecting on the following:

• Assess your level of mastery at rolling (loving) and basking (being loved).  How would you rate yourself?
• What changes could you make to support increased “roll” and “bask?”
• What would happen as a result?

“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?

But because I knew [...]]]> I saw Wicked for the first time in October.  While, at the time, the song, “For Good” was particularly touching, its lyrics struck an even more compelling “chord” in the wake of the new year.

“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?

But because I knew you.

I have been changed for good.”

The song reminds me of the different criteria against which we measure change  — permanence (as in “for good”) or progress (as in “for the better”).  I think that criteria may be flawed or, at least, deserves a second look.

Interest in “permanence,” in the context of a New Year, is understandable. Successfully embarking on a change depends on some faith that it will “stick.”  Yet:

• Sometimes,  the goals we set are not sustainable.
• Sometimes, permanence isn’t necessary or advisable.  A change that works for now may not be the right change for later.
• Sometimes, our hyper-focus on permanence can detract from the short-term gains.

These [short-term] gains or progress is another way in which to consider 2012 (or any year’s) resolutions.  Embarking on a change depends on some conviction that the change will yield “better” conditions.  Ideas about “progress” also can be short sighted.

• Sometimes,  exaggerated or irrational levels of expectation leave us behind instead of ahead.
• Sometimes,  the voices of others silence our own sense of “headway.”
• Sometimes,  progress in the traditionally “positive” sense isn’t the point.

This notion of “positive change,” thanks in part to the words of a Broadway song, intrigues me the most.  The litmus test through which we assess  “for the better” seems narrow  – based typically on a “good” outcome. Yet, situations arise in our lives (and in Wicked) when a change evokes conditions of sadness, anger, despair, emptiness (the list goes on).  Their burdens can be intolerable.  We wish them away with all our might or a click of our red slippers.

Truth be told, these experiences (the end of a relationship, the end of a job, a life or work transition), despite their inherent “bad”ness, can be our teachers “for good.” It’s the bravest of souls  (a.k.a. students) who actually invite, accept, and make difficult changes in their lives realizing, ironically, that change in any direction can still mean permanent progress.

I stood among audience members at the Gershwin Theater last Fall and applauded a musical AND the message its music conveyed.  One song, against the backdrop of a story about “good” and “bad” witches, left me with new ideas about “good” and “bad.”    This same message resonates at the beginning of a new year when changes can mean more than “better” and “for good.”  If you’re ready to make new or broader meaning of changes n 2012, consider the following.

• What changes are on your mind for 2012?
• To what extent, do these changes have to be “for good” or permanent?
• To what extent, are these changes about positive “for the better” progress?
• What additional change opportunities exist — ones that may be  less “good” but still leave you changed “for good?”

The New Year is quickly approaching and we likely will begin it with a toast or two.   In fact, it’s how many of us begin each day – with toast.  Certainly, there are some similarities between the bread and the beverage:

Then again…

Let the holidays go [...]]]> “Let the holidays begin!” I truly mean it.  I love this time of year.  Just walking down the street during this past weekend’s “lull” (between Black Friday and Cyber Monday), the season was in the air in the form of mint and bells and lights and perceived abundance.

Then again…

Let the holidays go away! I truly mean it.  I don’t love this time of year.  Just walking down the street during this past weekend’s “recovery” (between Black Friday and Cyber Monday), the season was in the air in the form of traffic and crowds and perceived scarcity.

Indeed, the period between Thanksgiving and New Years is schizophrenic in its rhythm.  The “highs” of which there are many, reach, at times, a fever pitch of authentically bubbly people and drink only to be undermined by the “lows” of aching feet, aching wallets, and the occasional aching heart.

I had just a “taste” of this over Thanksgiving. As spirited as they began, the multiple trips to the grocery store (for food), paper store (for table décor), and florist (for flowers) took on a life of their own.  In their “afterlife,” I felt just a little less buoyant, a little too flat.

Some of us experience both kinds of seasonal moments – “helium” ones and  “air out of the balloon” ones.  It’s as if the holiday equation includes two opposing but often unavoidable variables – the aloft “X” related to spirit, excitement, energy and the grounded “Y” related to apathy and exhaustion.  In an ideal world, we’d figure out a way to stack the deck (while we deck the halls) with X only.

As a general rule, X’s (metaphorically “dining”) and Y’s (“whining”) go together.  We say it time and time again – gain requires some pain.  Something happens during the holidays however. We inflate our X to a degree that a leak or even a burst is almost inevitable.  We discover (perhaps the hard way) that the six weeks between Thanksgiving and the New Year is a very short period of time to sustain such a high level of “gain” without the gravitational pull of the  “pain.”

I’m not questioning reasonable holiday frenzy among the mint and the bells. I welcome it.  Rather, I’m wondering about the circumstances under which a “fun” kind of frenzy spins out of control — yielding a sudden loss of altitude in, quite frankly, joy.

Perhaps. as the year draws to a close, the holidays provide some of us with what we think is an “easy” opportunity to:

• make up for “quality” (in time, in relationship) that’s been missing
• spend relentlessly to balance our relentless physical/emotional expenditures
• demonstrate capacity and capability  beyond our  multi-season “job”

In fact, holiday time is “easy” to the extent that we can approach it with some ease – when our X naturally rises above our Y, our “dining” truly rises over our “whining.”  It’s also a time when we can assess the other eleven months of the year to ensure that our X’s  (after X-mas) are not so fleeting.

For the next month, when/if you become aware of a “high pitched” leak in your holiday balloon, consider the following:

• How much “whining” are you experiencing among the “dining” this holiday season?
• What is contributing to it?
• What can you do to ensure that the joy emerges supreme?
• What can you do after the holidays to cement regular moments of X?

PUT ON YOUR COAT!

Truth be told, this is not a command directed only to my most “junior” family members.  I [...]]]> It happens in almost an instant –the palpable realization that it’s REALLY time for outerwear!  For me, that “instant,” was last Thursday night and, in its wake, I prepared for Friday morning:

PUT ON YOUR COAT!

Truth be told, this is not a command directed only to my most “junior” family members.  I have to communicate it to myself as well because I dislike coats!  Coats and I have a constraining, limiting, binding relationship and so I wait until the last possible seasonal “instant” to wear them.

For most people, it’s a natural, perhaps even enjoyable, Autumn ritual to take inventory of the slickers and ski jackets that are “waiting” in the closet for the seasonal verdict of “in” or “out.”   Those same people perhaps then escape to Burlington (not Vermont but the “Coat Factory”) to see what styles fit for the season.  While I may be less eager to participate in these rituals, I realized recently that “coat selecting or shopping” is actually a universal human behavior.  Thanks to our internal thermostat that also fluctuates instantaneously, we regularly cast decisions, albeit unconscious ones, about what stays “closeted” and, as a result, what’s the preferred type and quality of our outermost shell.

Using “Burlington” language, here are just a few examples of the “garments” that we might manufacture for our own escape.

Raincoats

are often our brightest and shiniest options.  In them, things slide off  – drizzle or tears.  Taking full advantage of their often yellow (as in “sunny”) facade, we can ignore what’s really going on “outside” or “inside.”

Down jackets

are the stuff of puff  (chests, perhaps egos). In them, we present a “ripped” and well-defined persona.  To the touch (or finger pointing), however, our “guts” collapse, receding into themselves.  The “puff” is perhaps just a little “fake.”

Hoodies

don’t necessarily make sense on the rawest days…or do they?  With them, we’re guaranteed not only heart, but also head protection.  For the kind of person whose thoughts get in the way of maintaining a “sensible” and “sustainable” core temperature, they fit like a glove.

Yet, in the real world of our ever-changing barometer,  “sensible” and “sustainable” outerwear is hard to design.  One possible “answer” came from an unanticipated source last Friday.

I said.  “Put on your coat” — it’s freezing outside.”

He said.  “I’m fine.” and retreated to school in shorts, a t-shirt, and sweatshirt.

The “old” story is that “his” closet is knee-deep in coats that don’t fit, resulting in a parallel misfit between his interest (“later”) and my maternal one (“now”) to go shopping for new ones.   My “new” story is that “he,” in fact, we all, make due wearing what’s accessible.  The fit may not come with a 100% guarantee but neither does the weather forecast.

So…if you’re buried in coats and the decisions about what to keep or discard, maybe it’s an opportune time to think about your “Burlington” behavior anytime of the year:

• What are your favorite coats — color, texture, silhouette, fit.
• How does wearing them make you feel?
• What about the other coats at your disposal yet less perceptible to the world outside?
• To what extent do they still fit?
• What would you choose as replacement and what happens as a result?

For many, the end of the first academic quarter arrives later this month, punctuated by annual parent/teacher conferences and followed by a piece of “low grade” paper.  If you’re a government employee, a marking period of sorts usually begins with the [...]]]> “Report cards” will begin to make Autumnal appearances within the next few weeks.

For many, the end of the first academic quarter arrives later this month, punctuated by annual parent/teacher conferences and followed by a piece of “low grade” paper.  If you’re a government employee, a marking period of sorts usually begins with the end of the fiscal year.  Even individuals in the private sector under the leadership of “ambitious” HR professionals, are writing self-evaluations and beginning to set 2012 goals.

Some admirably live and work for these “review” periods.  The letter-speckled computer printout or boss-employee “lovefest” marks the culmination of hard work.   Students and subordinates can “rest,” albeit briefly, on the distinction of “straight A’s” or the “exceeded expectations” declaration.

However, some people are programmed differently. For them, as admirably, the lower “grade:”

• “Regular” not “premium” at the tank.
• “Generic” not “organic” at the grocery store
• “B+” not an “A’ in  performance

is a-ok.

Perhaps, sometimes it’s simply because other things matter too.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about our almost auto-pilot advocacy for the highest grade and its potential flaws. In some situations, it’s the “B+” that may actually lift us higher.

Perhaps, sometimes, it’s simply because it allows us to do other things.

In the classroom:

We are expected and should nurture excellence.  A lower grade however is not always about an absence of excellence just the presence of it elsewhere.

At the office:

The  “achieves expectations” rating is often interpreted as average.  We lose sight of the fact that what lurks behind average may be individual choice, not individual capacity.

In our life pursuits:

“Plan B’s” may traditionally mean a different path than first expected.  The path is not necessarily a less meaningful one or one for which we’ve settled.  Yet, we sometimes use “A” language to describe our “B’ decisions –alternative, acceptable, alright. Another perspective is that B’s are “amazing” – a courageous expression of interest and initiative, dependent on amazing people for success.

Ultimately, though, the perspective that’s most important is one’s own. After the report card arrives or the door to supervisor’s office closes or we decide individually to change course, we may feel the burden of the “B,” especially when cloaked in a lecture (self- or other-inspired) about “being better.”   Alternatively, we can decide that the “B” represents a truer message about who, when, and where we are at our “best and brightest.”    Perhaps, the “B” is really a B+ or an “A.”  A for amazing, A for A-ok.

If your next “evaluation” will be accompanied by a few “B’s (self- or other-inspired), consider the following questions:

• In what “subjects?”
• Is there a difference between the traditional and true story you hear/tell behind the grade?
• If so, is the true story one that you have fully understood before?
• What happens to you as storyteller when you explain your “grades” with a different voice?
  

“How was your day, honey?”

“Fine.”

Its “cookie-cutter” content easily applies to a broad range of situations but rings especially true at the end of those precious first days of school or a new job when [...]]]> It’s the briefest yet  one of the most familiar conversations – echoing between kitchens and foyers:

“How was your day, honey?”

“Fine.”

Its “cookie-cutter” content easily applies to a broad range of situations but rings especially true at the end of those precious first days of school or a new job when we wait “anxiously” for an answer as if a single word (e.g. “alright,” “good”) could convey the complete truth and legitimize the silence that follows.

Regardless of the context, when we ask OR answer this question, the words, as scripted above, roll off tongues almost effortlessly, robotically.  This level of inquiry, in essence, requires little of us in its design, its articulation or its response.

How would Socrates – the  “Father” of questions – grade our efforts?   The season of traditional learning may begin each Fall with a new wave of pupils going “Greek” in the form of studying the great philosophers of life or, in some cases, “rushing” toward a new philosophy on living.  Yet, I suspect that Socrates would not be happy.

We learn very little because, more often than not, we ask very little.

Questions – Socrates believed – were the foundation of learning.  When we effectively ask, we create conditions for:

• clarifying our own or other’s thinking
• testing our own or  other’s assumptions
• leveraging our own or  other’s alternative ideas

Yet, the content of our questions is not the only challenge.  The voice behind them matters as well. Bold inquiry and, as such, deep learning requires us, in the roles of “master” (teacher, parent or boss), student, or “self,” to be:

• curious
• open
• patient
• interested

Socrates’ suggested script only turns tragic when we stand in the way of learning – someone else’s or our own. Failing to ask provocative questions means failing others in their growth or failing to grow ourselves.

“How was your day?” is not a “fine” question and we should not assume  “self” or “other” satisfaction with the predictable answer. Whether looking into the eyes of a 4^th grader, or your spouse as newly minted manager, or into the mirror, the response, “ok,” is not ok. Questions that loom large and their answers that loom long set the course for our real education.

Indeed, tomorrow may end as yesterday did.  We may greet our children or partners at the door with smiles and treats in the form of Oreos or dry Chardonnay respectively.   We may similarly take stock of our own days and conclude simply and with ease that all is well. Both the inter-and intra-personal “sugar and spice and everything nice” exchange is never as compelling as the conversation that invites someone past the metaphoric doormat conversation to the more “hearty” dinner table one.

So, in the seasonal school spirit of deeper inquiry, if you think the questions that you ask — of others or yourself – would disappoint Socrates, consider the following:

• What are your routine questions?
• What are the questions that you could ask in their place?
• How do they promote learning – yours or others?
• What could happen as a result?