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At My Life’s Work, we view opportunities for reflection as important in building self-awareness, personal wisdom, new behaviors, and different actions. Through our bi-weekly blog — “weekly words” –we seek to support this process.
It’s now August and summer is winding down. Consider this month’s themes as you enjoy the last weeks of fireflies, beach vacations, and ice cream concoctions. Each piece and its accompanying questions invite your response – whether it’s in the form of journaling, or an early morning walk, or a conversation with a professional colleague, a family member, a friend or, perhaps, your coach.
So, Happy Summer. Enjoy our seasonal sentiments and, if you want even more to read, recall our blog on summer camp from months ago.
If you would like to share your thoughts in response to ours, please email us.
Click here for an archive of past submissions.
How do I write about a familiar summer theme without sounding too cliché, or boring? That’s my dilemma this week and yet, there is something about the topic that feels sufficiently relevant to plod ahead.
Plodding is actually an appropriate word. It’s how I’ve felt the last few weeks if not the last few months. While some people manage the intersection of heat, humidity, and haze well, I do not. I never have.
- Humidity’s “wet blanket” feeling takes its toll on my typically active sense and execution of self.
- Haze wraps summer’s expected breezy blue sky in gauze. Clouds do not move and neither do I.
In essence, humidity and haze stop me in my tracks. It’s curious though because the third “H” – heat—does not bother me as much. To 107 degrees in Phoenix, I say “bring it on.”
To “weather –strip” means to seal openings. It occurred to me that the opposite – creating openings or opportunities — might be necessary if we want to learn broader lessons about our relationship to a 3H “climate:”
- Humidity is simply the meteorological expression of a weight on our system that reduces our capacity.
- Haze is simply the meteorological expression of stagnation that impairs our forward movement.
Heat, however, is the meteorological expression of energy in the atmosphere and energy is what’s needed to propel us forward. Ironically, I think that an increase in our personally- or professionally-cultivated “heat” represents the outcome of another intersection of “H’s” — namely the head, the heart, and the hands. I think we are potentially at our best when we are firing from these three cylinders and the behaviors they’ve come to symbolize: thinking (head), feeling (heart), and doing (hands).
My question therefore shifts to “how” – how does one build energy or heat under the threat of “wet blanket” and “gauze” conditions — induced naturally or otherwise? Unlike the cold front which sweeps through with a deep breath, and leaves in its wake, lighter and clearer air, breakthroughs in our work and home environments typically are not forecast nor do they hit with such immediate impact. So…it’s our job to attend to our own professional or personal barometer and re-calibrate our thoughts, feelings, and actions at the first elevated reading of sluggishness, flatness, numbness, idleness,. The key is to “stretch” to the point of head, hand, or heart “burn.” Some broad ideas that come to mind include:
- Creating regular opportunities for learning
- Executing regularly on untapped “work” or “home” passions
- Engaging regularly in new “doing”
Seasonally speaking, I know that I will breathe a sigh of relief when September arrives. While the weather will offer a reprieve, I also realize that I’m never completely off the hook when it comes to these matters. If you agree, consider the following:
- What situations create the “wet blanket” or “gauze” (e.g. heavy or stagnant) condition in your life?
- What specific “symptoms” do you experience?
- How have you or do you wish to treat those symptoms?
- What challenges and benefits do you anticipate?
Recently, the Washington DC Metropolitan area experienced the meteorological version of a political coup after a destructive storm “cell” swept through the area. My family was one of the very few lucky ones. Our lights stayed on, the AC hummed and the ice cream did not melt! I bore witness to many people, however, who spent five days without electricity.
What happens during a loss of power?
- Blindness. We flail aimlessly in the dark.
- Pain. We’re rendered at best, ill at ease, in absence of the usual comforts that our fortunate positions in life (at least in many suburbs of Washington DC) afford us.
- Laryngitis. Our “wired” ways of connecting and completing the business of the day are suddenly unavailable.
- Restlessness. Our days end on the sun’s clock not our own.
Seeing this list in black and white, it becomes even clearer to me why a loss of power is so unsettling. And then it dawned on me — for the company leader who is trying to manage his/her world of screaming stakeholders or even the parent who is trying to manage his/her world of screaming kids — when one chooses to give up (or is forced to relinquish) influence, the experience the is same – at least temporarily:
- Blindness. A shadow is cast on your professional or personal game plan.
- Pain. The pleasures, whether physical or emotional, that accompanied your role in the spotlight or nightlight are no longer guaranteed.
- Laryngitis. Whether it’s inspiring, cajoling, empathizing, manipulating, bribing, chest beating, lamenting, your voice, as you know it (and as perhaps your children or co-workers know it) has been unplugged.
- Restlessness. Because suddenly the standard outlets for your energy do not exist, you have fewer reasons (or excuses) to maintain high wattage presence and pace.
All the more reason to hold onto every opportunity to be in charge.
Except, I do believe that, in the aftermath of a storm or coup (whether other-or self-induced), new opportunities for control reveal themselves.
- Blindness allows us to discover new ways of seeing old situations. (“There is more than one company vision.” OR “way to engage kids around homework.”)
- When experiencing pain, we more fully understand our real versus imagined thresholds for discomfort. (“I really can handle this disciplinary action.” OR “his/her messy bedroom.”)
- In the wake of laryngitis, we can connect to and with our world differently. (“I’m going to simply walk around the office.” OR “watch my children play.”)
- Restlessness forces us to experience the benefits of re-charging during times of unplanned “retirement.” (“I’m just going to be quiet for a while.”)
Summer will be over in no time now. The seasonal storms and blackouts will reduce in frequency. Perhaps against this backdrop, you, not Mother Nature , can take control of your dimmer switch and find new ways, and counterintuitively, new opportunities, for power. If you agree, consider the following:
- In what area might you seek a reduction in your own power or control?
- What motivates your interest in this change?
- How might your vision, level of comfort, voice, and/or level of activity be compromised with this change?
- What might you discover as a result?
Without going into unnecessary detail, in a recent episode of the deliciously-authentic TV show, Modern Family, the matriarch, Claire, arrives in Hawaii for a week of R&R with three kids, in-laws, and a little “baggage.” Her husband is in “ready to kick up his feet” mode. She is not. As she explains, “This is not a vacation, it’s a business trip.”
While Modern Family episodes typically inspire gut-wrenching laughter, “Claire’s” comment was differently gut wrenching. She acknowledged out loud what perhaps we can’t admit to ourselves. Vacations for many of us are work projects that we veil in exotic food, beautiful scenery, new adventures and/or a foreign language.
It’s my sense and regret that our daily language (and behavior) doesn’t change all that much during vacation. Granted, vacations can be immensely enjoyable. Moreover, “fly by the seat of our pants” holidays are rare, especially when “J’s” as in “junior” travelers or “judging” travelers (as in Myers Briggs) are involved.
Yet, the vacation conversation is too often about “to do” lists, plans, timelines. I, for one, continue to find it hard to strike that sacred balance between “moving” and “slowing down” even when a pool, not a boss, beckons. A summer trip may present opportunities to learn new currency but I’m not convinced that the currency of human interaction changes all that much.
The similarities between how some of us “spend “vacation and non-vacation time suggest that we (not our work environments, our colleagues, our bosses, our carpool schedule) are partly responsible for any changes in pace that we seek and may not ultimately experience during a break. So what stands in our way? The themes are part of our DNA:
- Control (“We have to leave the hotel by 9 am sharp to make the last bus to the waterfall before the lunch crowd and the predicted rain shower.”)
- Achievement (“They say the hike up the mountain is hard but I know we can do it.”)
- Experience (“I can’t wait to get home and tell everyone about what an amazing things we did and saw.”)
It’s quite possible that such well-entrenched behaviors are hard to erase from our psyche just because we’re “off.” Rather than pretending that they don’t exist, perhaps we can think about them differently.
- Is being able to really “let go” for a defined period of time as much a reflection of control as micro-managing a work plan or an itinerary.
- Can achievement within the context of vacation be more about what we try not to “accomplish” than what Frommers or performance objectives tell us we should?
“Experience” is probably the trickiest concept around which to shift our thinking. For those of us who take pride in showcasing our pinnacle professional or personal life moments, it makes sense that vacations to some degree would be about the grand experience and its storytelling – how much we did, saw, learned. For some, a vacation, in absence of an exciting narrative, may be considered uneventful and not worthy of even a Hi, I’m reading a book on the beach postcard.
What may be worthwhile is some pre-vacation reflection if indeed you seek to take a vacation from your typical “working” vacation. The following questions may help:
- On a Scale of 1-10, how hard do you work at your vacation?
- What drives this behavior?
- What changes do you seek for your next trip?
- What are you concerned might happen if you don’t “manage” your vacation?
- How can you test these assumptions?
The scene repeats itself routinely at picnics, block parties, and family reunions over the summer. People may scatter to any one of a number of optional activities – three-legged, potato sack, water balloon toss in variety — but like bees to honey, are drawn communally to that central table dressed with Dixie cups and thirst quenching drink.
Perhaps you remember the Kool Aid commercials – the beverage, held in its smiley face pitcher, more primary in its color than finger paint. Some of us have perhaps become more selective in our tastes – with mint-infused, tropical or green (as in tea, not primary color) varieties of summer beverage. The fact remains, however, that sometimes because of the climate (summer or our more internal one) we will gravitate towards any beverage regardless of its flavor because:
- It quenches.
- It refreshes.
- It rejuvenates.
- It makes us whole again.
Moreover, it’s far more positive for our “glass to be half full” than empty.
“Drinking the Kool Aid” has become an increasingly popular and agreeably cynical term to describe an understandably human behavior to join. Consider these “joining” opportunities:
- Championing a new company policy
- Adopting as our own a new trend in personal development
- Wearing a new style
- Signing up for a new club or social group
- [Even] Reading the New York Times #1 Bestseller
What motivates joining? It’s a natural response when we seek to:
- quench our loneliness
- refresh our identity
- rejuvenate customary patterns by doing something new
Moreover, when faced with saying “yeah” (e.g. “You bet I’m in!”) or “nay,” (e.g. “Well, I’m not sure.”) the “full glass” response is often the more popular and the easiest initially.
Don’t get me wrong, sometimes our “membership” decisions are genuine and good for us. The “joining” problem occurs when either we “fail” to distinguish our tastes from others or we realize too late in the game that the popular choice does not necessarily agree with our individual system. In these instances and in alignment with others, we may very publicly “declare” our full commitment or interest. It’s when our thoughts, unconsciously at first, and then slowly but privately begin to ”whisper” something else, that problems arise.
Truth be told, any potato sack or three-legged competition with lemonade at the finish line will bind us together. Yet, we’re never really whole if part of us still stands on the sideline – not sure we want to play. Perhaps, the sideline presents an opportunity to consider the entire field and, only after doing so, make choices of games, beverages, and in whose company, if anyone’s, we want to drink.
If you’re interested in reflecting on your own “joining” situations and behaviors, consider the following questions:
- Under what conditions, do you “join?”
- What motivates you to do so?
- What do you do when/if you realize that “joining” isn’t or hasn’t in your best interest?
This past weekend, we took my son to King’s Dominion for his birthday. Visiting an amusement park is an exercise in extremes – summer at its sweetest, its stickiest, its sweatiest, its sunniest (even when it’s cloudy). It occurred to me that the rides and the riders in all their glory also offer some “extreme” lessons – about life, work, relationships.
Last Saturday, I observed a few different categories of people at the amusement park. First, there were the thrill seekers.
- They set ambitious goals for the day – the fastest turn, the scariest dip, the highest peak.
- Their willingness to invest was great – they waited in long lines, their rides often commanded a premium price or special [“standing tall,” “I can do it!”] height requirements.
- They seemed to relish the feeling of being spent at a ride’s end while still wanting and ready to do it all over again.
The second category of people coveted relative safety and comfort. These were the “merry-go-round” folks:
- They chose a less taxing – albeit still fun – approach to their day.
- Their “costs” were limited – the lines and assaults on their system seemed more tolerable.
- Their dizziness or nausea was short-lived – a bi-product of going “simply” around and around.
At the park, there is also evidence of unique approaches to relationships.
- The “thrilled” patrons seek the hands of strangers and scream to their (happy or unhappy) heart’s content through the highs and lows and hairpin turns.
- The carousel riders enjoy a more solitary experience – single-handily jockeying for position, waiting perhaps for a that one prince or princess on a shiny white horse to come around the bend.
There are no right or wrong answers here.
- In life and work and relationships, some of us can “stomach,” even seek out the extreme ups and downs (e.g. the unwieldy projects, the weekend chaos, passion at its most painful or pleasant), while some of us prefer and find most peace or satisfaction in a more predictable pace or tempo (e.g. “set in stone” organization charts, timelines, to do lists, going “steady”).
- For some, the “roller coaster” brings up deeply entrenched fears, physical responses that can border on harmful while others depend on or crave the adrenaline.
Yet, I believe that’s roller coasters and carousels present only one option. The amusement park also offers entry into whole world in which we can live, work and connect in between the extremes. When I think about what is possible in the middle, I think of bumper cars.
- One still has the opportunity to drive his/her own experience.
- There can be opportunities for intense speed and connection with others but it doesn’t have to be that way all of the time.
- One can also sufficiently slow down and retreat to the sidelines to quietly, calmly, diffierntly appreciate the sweet and the sunny.
The amusement park experience, in essence, leaves us with opportunities to reflect on the rides on which we choose to embark and our role as riders. To inspire your further thinking, ask yourself:
- Am I a roller coaster or carousel kind of person?
- What interest, if any, do I have in a different kind of ride (or relationship with other riders)? What are the pros/cons?
- How might a change impact me?
- What stands most in my way?
- What first step can I take?
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