Two Steps Back

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Sometimes all I can do is chuckle at life’s way of setting me back a few paces — usually right after I’ve finished patting myself on the back about something.

Some of the setbacks we can anticipate, others catch us off guard. Maybe it’s nothing more than a schedule that’s been thrown off for the afternoon, or perhaps it’s as big as a hefty medical bill that straggles in just when you thought they were done. Maybe it’s a job loss, or perhaps it’s something during a job search that makes you feel like you’ve hit a snag in your progress, your momentum.

A marriage might be crumbling before your eyes. Maybe a hit and run left you with a damaged car to fix. Maybe you’re caring for people you didn’t plan on looking after, or maybe you’re simply in the middle of the biggest life transition you’ve experienced to-date, and you wonder if you’re prepared for it.

Life will always throw us curve balls, and I’m a big believer in the fact that they’re there because they contain lessons that we’re supposed to learn in that moment — or they shine a light on a path that we’re supposed on be on instead of the one we’ve been traveling down.

What to do? First, breathe. Second, realize it will only get the better of you if you let it. Third, be open. Consider why you’ve lost ground, and ponder what lessons exist in a situation that may appear to be nothing more than aggravating on the surface.

Tonight I am thankful for those learning opportunities that exist when we seek them out, but also for the ones which find us. What has been a blessing in disguise in your life?

Connect the Dots

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Earlier today I was explaining to a colleague that I like to think of life as a series of dots on a piece of paper. The vast majority are a particular color — gray, for example — while a handful of dots, maybe five or so, are purple. They stand out, and you can clearly see how they connect. It’s easy to draw a line between them.

If we were to live in that paper world, however, and if the dots were all around us as though we were standing in a forest of trees, the dots that once stood out might no longer be obvious. A gray one might be in the way, and one of those purple ones may be obscured.

Why all the dots? When we look back on our lives, a series of events that might have seemed random and meaningless actually adds up to a distinct path — a trajectory, if you will — that we are meant to be on. When we’re among the trees or our gray dots, those purple ones don’t seem to add up to much when they happen; we have to get past an obstacle in order for the purple ones to come into view. But time adds perspective, brings understanding and shines a light on a course that may have been unknown to us all along. I love that light.

The thing I struggle with is knowing what my path will be. This isn’t to say that I need to know or that I’m unhappy — I’m simply curious about what it will be when I look back on it all. Where I’ll go, with whom I’ll walk. Some things have made sense so far in my life, and I’ve seen how a couple of those purple dots have connected; I’ve seen how they add up to something bigger.

Other things have me baffled, and I have no idea why they happened or were part of my life. I’m looking forward to the day when those things make sense.

Then there are those things I know that I’ll never understand…and that’s OK by me, because that’s just the way the ball bounces.

Tonight I’m thankful for knowing that everything adds up in time, and that there are defining moments in our lives which have meaning and purpose in the long run. It’s not to say that a life is meaningless in between points A and Z, but it is to say that while we’re going about our days and our usual dots, we should keep our eyes open and our minds receptive to the purple ones and their impact on our worlds, our well-being, our livelihood and on others, as well.

Anatomy of a Leader

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Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I had a boss who had an extra appendage: his Blackberry.

You’d swear that the thing had its own blood supply, since said boss clearly wasn’t able to function without it.

One morning, I got into the office a little early – around 8am, when our start time was 9. At the time, I was waking up at 6:30 every day, and I had developed a similarly close [read: annoying] relationship with my own Blackberry. It was turning into a true occupational, personal and every other kind of hazard for me, but such hazards were accepted by all at this company.

I’d lay in bed, cozy under my covers, and start scrolling through emails that I’d received during the wee hours. News, breaking news, industry news, press releases, messages from potential vendors reaching out and looking for business, late night reply-all emails and the like amounted to close to 100 unread messages every morning – before I ever arrived at the office.

The morning I arrived early was a morning I noticed that my boss had emailed me around 4am. Situating myself at my desk, he came over and was visibly spun up about something. His jittery, hyper vibe made me nervous, and I was certain I wouldn’t need my coffee that morning since I’d obviously be able to get my energy through osmosis.

“Hey! Did you see my email?!” he said.

“I did,” I replied. Before I could continue, he decided to take over.

“Well? Why didn’t you reply to me? What were you doing?”

What was I doing? Sheesh. Getting ready to go to work. Alongside you. Why didn’t I reply? A number of reasons flooded my brain. I wanted to say so much, not the least of which included the following:

1)      I sleep during the 4am hour. If you don’t, that’s your business.

2)      If I wake up and see your email at 6:30 – an email which isn’t life or death, and which isn’t about losing an account, upsetting a client, missing a deadline or blowing a ton of money – I would expect that discussing it with you at a sane hour, in person, is more than appropriate. If you disagree, then I would say you have more than a few issues.

3)      If I am so important, then please promote me.

4)      Better yet, if your job cannot get done without my input, please resign and I will take your role.

5)      And, by the way, your fly is down.

(His fly was always down. I have no idea how this became a regular occurrence. Since we’re talking about anatomy, perhaps it was an indicator of his unhealthy obsession with the digital appendage. After all, if he were to have focused less on it, the other one may have been properly concealed on a more regular basis.)

“Never let ’em see you sweat” came to mind, so I played nicely. It’s the least I could do (for myself) since he was clearly running with scissors and I felt like living until 5pm.

“I really wanted to discuss it with you in person, because there’s a lot that can be misunderstood through email. Can we talk about it now? I have some questions for you.”

It wasn’t the truth, but it worked. He seemed incredibly pleased with himself that he’d bothered to hog my morning brainwaves with work, but he was none the wiser that I was telling a little white lie. In reality, the guy liked to feel incredibly important, and I think he especially enjoyed getting everyone riled up for no good reason. He liked seeing people shake in their boots, liked making people sweat the small stuff. And honestly, if that’s the way you do business, then shame on you. Have you no manners? Sanity is largely underrated these days, I’m sorry to say, but there are a few gems out there who still let it reign supreme.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it was one heck of a job, but it taught me a lot about what I want out of my managers. It also taught me a lot about what to never tolerate again. One doesn’t become a leader by having a lofty title, a company car, a bigger paycheck or a corner office. One doesn’t become a leader by being in what’s perceived as the most important department, by bringing in new business or by having people report to him or her. One becomes a leader by first of all remembering that everyone is human, and by treating people with the same respect that they, too, would demand. One becomes a leader by not ruling with an iron fist, a booming voice, by throwing things or by taking credit for what others have done.

In the same way that one lets their partner lead while on the dance floor, true leadership needs to be fueled by a spirit of partnership in the business world, too. Today, after reflecting on a few times in my life where leadership has lacked despite the fact that “leaders” were present, those people who are good examples of positive management and who know the true meaning of leading and inspiring are the ones for whom I am thankful.

Extra credit.

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I think there are certain things we all know we’re capable of achieving. Other times when it comes to something out of the ordinary, we second guess ourselves.

We may think we’re not good enough, talented enough, smart enough, worthy enough or deserving enough. We may even bother to wonder where these feelings come from inside us, as others in our circle of friends or in our family don’t seem to have the same issues. You might begin to wonder whether they live under a lucky cloud, or you may feel as though they live a charmed life.

They don’t. Nobody does, really. Everyone has to work for something, or work at something; if anyone says they don’t, then they’ve sacrificed something valuable along the way, most likely — and not necessarily something tangible. Maybe they’ve sacrificed a sense of self, a sense of duty, honor or work ethic.

Regardless, this isn’t about them. This is about us — the ones who don’t always give ourselves enough credit.

What’s our deal? Why are we wired this way?

While some might’ve lost their identity along the way, we seem to be hyper-aware of our own; scrutinizing it is seemingly our favorite pastime. We know we need to let up, go a bit easier on ourselves, and we wish that we could see the things others say they see in us. Some days we succeed at this. Other days, not so much.

I have to remind myself sometimes that acting is a big part of life. People do it on the job, with their kids — everywhere. We act when we’re lacking confidence but we don’t want anyone to know that we’re nervous to give that big presentation. We act when our child’s questions about the birds and the bees and every other grown up topic causes some seat-squirming; where are the years going? Why can’t they stay little forever?

In cases of self-doubt or when my confidence us waning, I act. Acting can go a long way. Think about it: people don’t go into battle knowing who will win or lose — each side has the confidence, whether genuine or not, that they’ll win. Even if they’re terrified, they’d never let the enemy see them sweat. Nor should we.

People don’t set out to conquer a dream because they know they’ll succeed. They set out because they figure, “Why not?” They set out because not trying is more painful than trying and hearing a “no,” or a “try again.”

Give yourself more credit. Get after it — whatever it is in your life. What do you have to lose? Nothing. Your pride may become a bit bruised, but nothing is too big to try for.

And for knowing this, I am thankful.

Ready or not

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Sometimes I feel all knotted up inside when there’s something on the horizon that’s necessary, but which I have no interest in doing or in being part of.

If you’ve ever given a cat a bath — or tried — you’re probably familiar with their feline antics. Legs outstretched, some yowling and a tail hell-bent on not getting wet. That’s me.

I don’t like the feeling of not being completely ready for something, and yet there’s no stopping time. Some things we choose on our own, other things we have little control over. In either situation, we may not be ready for what we’re about to embark upon or tackle. But it is what it is.

I can always tell myself that I’ll emerge unscathed, and that it’s a character-building opportunity. While the former has always been true, the latter is often a more difficult pill to swallow.

I may not always feel ready, but taking the time to prepare goes a long way in quieting my brain. After a certain point, I know I’ve done all I could and falling back on “I’ve done my best” takes over. If and when I’ve fallen short in terms of that preparation, I get the results I deserve.

How do I get the results I want?

1. Prepare.
2. Picture success.
3. Remain calm. Breathe.
4. Smile more. It’s disarming.
5. Realize the clock is ticking. Nothing lasts forever. The light is at the end of the tunnel.
6. Go with the flow.
7. Give it my best shot.
8. Look back at a completed job, and exhale.

It’s not a list that works for everyone, but it works for me — and I’m thankful for knowing that even the most stressful situation can be helped by a few deep breaths and focusing on a positive outcome.

What are your steps for getting through a trying, stressful situation?

Some people

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There are people we know we could never see again and we’d be just fine without. Then there are those whose absence we feel right away.

Some people leave a mark on our spirits with one glance, one word. Others take a bit longer to know, but their presence is equally impactful.

Some people become friends when the majority become acquaintances.

Some become lifelong partners in crime when others fall by the wayside.

When we meet people who we immediately realize can have an effect on our lives, we may want to embrace them or run the other way; we might want to resist their influence, or maybe it’s something we’d immediately crave.

People can have a profound influence on our lives, and we might not know how profound until a good decade or two has passed. For those who know right away, how fortunate. And to those for whom it takes a while to sink in, better late than never — right?

Tonight I am thankful for my best friends, for their presence in my life and their footprints they leave on my soul. Many come in and out of our lives, but only a precious few will have a permanent home in our hearts.

Unplugged.

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We’ve made money-making industries out of things that used to be simple. Weddings, home decor — you name it and it’s been complicated.

You know that we’re on the crazy train, right? The simple days are merely a memory, it seems. I saw a kid tonight riding his bike down Beach Boulevard — a busy, five lane, 50-mph highway, more or less. The kid was 12 or so; he was riding while texting — and it freaked me out. I pictured him hitting a larger-than-normal crack in the sidewalk and launching head-first into the windshield of a road-raging rush-hourer.

The other night I watched an episode of House Hunters International and a family was moving to Spain. They were excited about the fact that none of the kids there walk around town looking at their tablets, iThis, iThat, etc., and over the moon that their kids would grow up in, more or less, an unplugged environment. They’d connect in a new way — interestingly, in the original way: face to face. Imagine that.

I don’t know about you, but life sometimes strikes me as being so complicated that I want to run away and live off the land…maybe in a cave, a teepee, an igloo — I don’t know. I’d like a wedding ring of string or twigs, a ceremony in a stream or on a cliff, I’d like my dwelling decor to be natural materials — flowers, woven grass, the earth as my floor, feather-filled bags that double as pillows or cushions to sit on. I’d like to never email again, text again, write a letter and maybe have a carrier pigeon (says the girl blogging from her iPhone). You know what I mean, though. I hope.

One of the blessings of technology is the speed with which it allows us to to things, the efficiency. A downside is that it can complicate the smallest task, idea or goal. It can complicate relationships, too.

The challenges a hundred years ago were light years different than what they are today. I like to say that mankind’s challenges then were to harness the power of the future, while these days it feels like harnessing the simplicity of the past would be a noble pursuit.

Tonight I am thankful for the luxuries and technology that our world today affords us, and I’m thankful for having parents and grandparents who can provide perspective and cautionary tales about earlier generations. May we harness intelligently, proceed cautiously, grow without forgetting where we came from and realize the benefit of unplugging every now and again.

Release.

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Do you ever do things outside of your work hours that are the exact, complete opposite of your 9-5 (or whatever your hours are) activities?

Your 9-5 might be an office, a truck going from here to there, it can be parenting, customer service in the retail sector, teaching, a courthouse, a gym, an airport — anything. What do you do after you finish doing what you do?

What do you do when your attention isn’t turned to your spouse, your significant other, your laundry, the dishes, your finances, your worries, the house, the pets, your kids, your next meal?

Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve majored in one of my hobbies, or pursued one as a career path. Music? Writing? Bartending? Cooking? Baking? Even travel?

Immediately after thinking this, each and every time, I’m reminded that those things — for me — are intended to be my releases. If they were anything more, I wouldn’t have the life that I have, the hobbies that I have or perhaps even the friends that I have. I wouldn’t look to them to unwind, but then again, I suppose it’s true that I’d have new ones. But still..

What about you? Could your hobbies ever become a career? Would you want them to become a career? Would you want them to sprout wings, or would you rather they remain as your personal route to R and R?

Tonight I am thankful my releases, for the rejuvenation they provide, for their ability to become more or less than what they are, and for the balance they provide in my life.

When I Grow Up

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I think that we can be any age and still have those, “When I grow up I want to be” thoughts.

Maybe we want to be more outgoing, a bit thinner, perhaps a little more comfortable in social settings or more witty. Maybe prettier, maybe more handsome, maybe less awkward, maybe more comfortable in our odd skin.

I think it’s normal to wish we had more lives to live, not unlike a cat. If it’s not, then I’m more abnormal than I’ve suspected all these years. It’s just that I enjoy my life so much that I think it would be interesting to go down different career paths in subsequent lives. I wouldn’t want to trade my family, though. They’re pretty excellent people.

My grandmother is 91. I imagine even she still has thoughts of the future, thoughts of things she’d like to learn to do, places she’d like to go.

I tell myself that, when I’m older, I’ll one day learn to avoid the magnifying mirror which, similar to Food Network or Cooking Channel, is far too big of a time suck for me. I tell myself that I’ll grow my hair out one of these years. That I’ll be a better saver, a wiser investor. That I’ll learn to be better to myself — kinder, more understanding — that I’ll handle myself the way I’d handle a child who is lost, a little unsure and a lot scared.

It’s now. That time that we picture is now — for no other reason than because tomorrow is never a guarantee; the next minute isn’t a guarantee.

I’m never going to be the grown up that I picture in my head because I seem to be on a continual quest for things that will make me better, smarter, more of this or more of that. Some pursuits, admittedly, are more noble than others. Many are juvenile and flighty and just plain fun. I’m never going to be the grown up that I picture, and that’s more than fine by me. In my opinion, it keeps my mindset young. It keeps me malleable. And it reminds me that I haven’t done it all — nobody has. It reminds me that there’s still so much more to see, do, to seek out.

Tonight I am thankful for never feeling my age, and for my to-do and to-try lists still being as lengthy as they were when I was 18 and moving away from home for the first time. Here’s to exploring the nooks and crannies of life, the back roads and making our own paths.

Human.

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I can’t remember where I was, but at some point last week I was walking into a store as a mom and her two kids were walking out.

“People are human, mom,” the boy said to his mother. “We all make mistakes.”

The boy’s tone was kind, his voice soft. He was holding his mom’s hand and looking up into her eyes. He was not more than six or seven years old.

I passed them and, even though I wasn’t sure what was being discussed, I smiled. Maybe he was the youngest Human League fan ever. Maybe he was mimicking something he’d heard her say before, or maybe — just maybe — he was giving her advice and trying to be a voice of reason.

They say that kids often see things with an element of clarity that adults lack. They say their innocence and honesty is abundant. I think this is what I witnessed.

Isn’t it funny how the years march on and we manage to tote a heavier and heavier load while trying to keep pace? The passing of time is no match for the burdens we carry. It will move on without us, unless we’re able to cast away the negativity, the pessimism and the measuring stick we hold tightly to in order to determine our worth compared to others’.

We can beat ourselves up and hold tight to our past indiscretions, relive them in our darkest hours and cling to them as though they define us, or we can set them free — and set ourselves free in the process.

Easier said than done, yes. Always. But hearing a child tell an adult — his mom, no less — that we all make mistakes was a fantastic reminder to ease up on myself whenever I get too far down that dark hallway.

After all, we’re human.