It’s the morning before Thanksgiving and I’ve been up for awhile because I have a lot do: more food to get, more cleaning to finish and more cooking to start. I’ll be running around for most of the day, like people all over the country.
Fortunately, I’ve got a good start on the number one thing on my “to do” list.
Giving thanks.
My thanksgiving began in earnest last night as each of my children made it home safely from their respective colleges. One came by air and one came by car. When my son came through the door, the three of us remained in a group hug that lasted for about a full minute. We basked in the appreciation of the moment.
Now, I’m sure you’ve probably heard or read about this before, but there are numerous academic and medical studies that show the multiple benefits of the practice of gratitude. Robert A. Emmons, PhD, a professor of psychology at University of California, Davis, is a pioneer in the research on gratitude and one of the leading scholars in positive psychology. His book Thanks: How the New Science of Gratitude Can Make You Happier, presents the results of studies in which randomly selected participants made weekly and daily lists of the things in their lives that created feelings of gratitude or times when they experienced gratitude. When compared with those groups which focused on the things that bugged them, or the group that made no lists at all, the researchers recorded these advantages in the Gratitude Group:
• Fewer health complaints
• Fewer symptoms of physical illness
• Better sleep patterns
• Better relations with other people
• Greater empathy
• Greater satisfaction with life as a whole
Research by Phillip Watkins, a clinical psychologist at Eastern Washington University, found that a grateful attitude may provide useful coping skills for dealing with losses and other stressful events.
I’m particularly focused on Watkins’ research today, because this has been a tough, tough year for so many people. The economic upheaval has touched everyone I know, personally and professionally. The universal constant is uncertainty.
I certainly claim no immunity. This year has brought unexpected losses of loved ones, health challenges and financial reversals that demand a continual review and reevaluation of assumptions, values and priorities. If I wasn’t clear before about what matters, I’ve had to figure it out, again and again.
Yet, as Emmons’ and Watkins’ studies show, it’s during times like these that gratitude matters most. The practice of gratitude teaches that we have the resilience and resources to handle the tough times, and can generate the confidence that we’ll be able to handle whatever lies ahead.
Consider: in the midst of international recession and global uncertainty, the people of the United States have made a historic choice which speaks to the promise of our democracy and our collective sense of resilience. No one knows what’s going to happen next, but polls show the majority of Americans are choosing to be hopeful about our future.
I’d call that a gratitude practice.
I’ve got to get to the rest of my “to do” list.
Happy thanks giving -- today, tomorrow and every day.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Wrong Play
It was one of his first public appearances in his new role. He’d been named to head up the regional office of a national not-for-profit organization, with a focus on social services and urban policy.
His audience was made up of members of a national service organization. He’d been a member since college. Before him was an array of local community, business and political leaders; people who could be critical to his success in his new position.
He decided to start with an ice breaker. He was in a city of rabid sports fans and his speaking engagement came during the overlap between the height of the NFL season and the beginning of the NBA season. And he had a special connection. His first career was in major league sports, including playing for a team that won a division championship.
After the obligatory “It’s so good to be here….I’m excited about my new position…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his division championship ring. “Thought I’d show you something that folks around here never get to see…an NFL championship ring!”
He laughed heartily as the audience collectively sucked in a deep breath. Then a smattering of “boos” circulated around the ballroom.
Did I mention that the speaker had played for the main NFL team rivals of his hosts?
I wish I could write that the speaker recovered and managed to connect with his audience during the balance of his remarks. Alas, that was not the case. His speech included multiple references to his previous successes, and his vision for his new job. No acknowledgement of any learning curve. No openings for buy-in among the people in the room.
You don’t have to be a coach to see the path to the goalpost just got a lot longer and a lot harder for this leader. And to realize that effective leadership requires more than a vision and a willingness to charge ahead.
His audience was made up of members of a national service organization. He’d been a member since college. Before him was an array of local community, business and political leaders; people who could be critical to his success in his new position.
He decided to start with an ice breaker. He was in a city of rabid sports fans and his speaking engagement came during the overlap between the height of the NFL season and the beginning of the NBA season. And he had a special connection. His first career was in major league sports, including playing for a team that won a division championship.
After the obligatory “It’s so good to be here….I’m excited about my new position…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his division championship ring. “Thought I’d show you something that folks around here never get to see…an NFL championship ring!”
He laughed heartily as the audience collectively sucked in a deep breath. Then a smattering of “boos” circulated around the ballroom.
Did I mention that the speaker had played for the main NFL team rivals of his hosts?
I wish I could write that the speaker recovered and managed to connect with his audience during the balance of his remarks. Alas, that was not the case. His speech included multiple references to his previous successes, and his vision for his new job. No acknowledgement of any learning curve. No openings for buy-in among the people in the room.
You don’t have to be a coach to see the path to the goalpost just got a lot longer and a lot harder for this leader. And to realize that effective leadership requires more than a vision and a willingness to charge ahead.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
To Be Real
Every working person has had that moment where you wonder “What am I doing here?”
In fact, the question usually surfaces hundreds of times during the course of our working lives. Sometimes it’s a nagging thought, sometimes it’s like a stalker and sometimes it reaches critical mass, hitting us upside the head like a ball peen hammer.
The question can be sparked by any number of circumstances, alone or in combination. Like the realization that time has been passing without any career plan or direction. Or it can be one missed promotion too many. Too little growth. Too much responsibility with too few resources. Too many jerks. Too little passion. Too much anxiety. Too little money. Too many signals that the company or the industry is going south.
Payton’s critical “What am I doing here?” moment was triggered by a number of factors. She’d enjoyed a long, successful career in journalism, with many awards to her credit. Her reporting had achieved recognition across her region and beyond. She had earned the respect of the people she covered and the audience she served, with a reputation for fairness.
Yet. The media business continued to be buffeted by the tsunami forces of shrinking audience and revenues, and Payton’s shop was no exception. Her newsroom was being tasked to provide more and more content, with fewer resources. Payton’s specialty – in-depth reporting on disadvantaged communities – was being marginalized. And in an industry that celebrates youth, her years of experience suddenly seemed like a liability.
So when a government executive offered the chance to work on policies affecting the communities she’d come to care about, Payton decided her combination of circumstances practically ordained her choice. She leapt into public service.
Countless journalists have made similar transitions. And even though most people define reporters as impartial and detached, the truth is that most journalists are drawn to the profession by qualities like curiosity and a desire to affect change through their reporting. The best investigative reporters are passionate and dogged in their pursuit of the facts. They couldn’t be effective if they weren’t.
The idea of moving from observer to policy maker can be awfully seductive. And it can take on the patina of fantasy. Because of your direct involvement, you begin to create a vision of success. And better still, that success is within your control, because now you’re on the inside, where decisions are made and things happen.
Unless they don’t. Payton soon began to realize that the legislator’s vision of policy change was far different from her own, in both direction and pace. The access she assumed she’d have turned out to be more assumption than reality. It was hard to tell whether she was observing conflicting government interests, or simply a lack of interest. Within months, she found herself feeling marginalized, ineffective and powerless.
Worst of all, Payton felt inauthentic. As though she had given up a core piece of herself in order to pursue what seemed to be a greater good. Before she knew it, she was right back at critical mass with the question “What am I doing here?”
This story has a happy ending. Because of the way Payton left her reporting job, the door was open when she inquired about her former position. And after discussions with her old boss, the decision to return to the newsroom was as clear as her decision to leave.
There are no bad decisions in Payton’s journey. She was right to pay attention to her internal question “What am I doing here?” She was right to evaluate herself and her career, to weigh her job options against her values and priorities, and her desire to affect change in service of the greater good.
Was it easy? No. Risky? Hell, yes.
What if she had not been able to return to her old job? Would she have been so quick to leave her government post? Her salary? Even in view of her family obligations?
Payton says yes. The experience showed her how vital it is for her to be her authentic self. To be real. To be true to herself.
It was perfect.
In fact, the question usually surfaces hundreds of times during the course of our working lives. Sometimes it’s a nagging thought, sometimes it’s like a stalker and sometimes it reaches critical mass, hitting us upside the head like a ball peen hammer.
The question can be sparked by any number of circumstances, alone or in combination. Like the realization that time has been passing without any career plan or direction. Or it can be one missed promotion too many. Too little growth. Too much responsibility with too few resources. Too many jerks. Too little passion. Too much anxiety. Too little money. Too many signals that the company or the industry is going south.
Payton’s critical “What am I doing here?” moment was triggered by a number of factors. She’d enjoyed a long, successful career in journalism, with many awards to her credit. Her reporting had achieved recognition across her region and beyond. She had earned the respect of the people she covered and the audience she served, with a reputation for fairness.
Yet. The media business continued to be buffeted by the tsunami forces of shrinking audience and revenues, and Payton’s shop was no exception. Her newsroom was being tasked to provide more and more content, with fewer resources. Payton’s specialty – in-depth reporting on disadvantaged communities – was being marginalized. And in an industry that celebrates youth, her years of experience suddenly seemed like a liability.
So when a government executive offered the chance to work on policies affecting the communities she’d come to care about, Payton decided her combination of circumstances practically ordained her choice. She leapt into public service.
Countless journalists have made similar transitions. And even though most people define reporters as impartial and detached, the truth is that most journalists are drawn to the profession by qualities like curiosity and a desire to affect change through their reporting. The best investigative reporters are passionate and dogged in their pursuit of the facts. They couldn’t be effective if they weren’t.
The idea of moving from observer to policy maker can be awfully seductive. And it can take on the patina of fantasy. Because of your direct involvement, you begin to create a vision of success. And better still, that success is within your control, because now you’re on the inside, where decisions are made and things happen.
Unless they don’t. Payton soon began to realize that the legislator’s vision of policy change was far different from her own, in both direction and pace. The access she assumed she’d have turned out to be more assumption than reality. It was hard to tell whether she was observing conflicting government interests, or simply a lack of interest. Within months, she found herself feeling marginalized, ineffective and powerless.
Worst of all, Payton felt inauthentic. As though she had given up a core piece of herself in order to pursue what seemed to be a greater good. Before she knew it, she was right back at critical mass with the question “What am I doing here?”
This story has a happy ending. Because of the way Payton left her reporting job, the door was open when she inquired about her former position. And after discussions with her old boss, the decision to return to the newsroom was as clear as her decision to leave.
There are no bad decisions in Payton’s journey. She was right to pay attention to her internal question “What am I doing here?” She was right to evaluate herself and her career, to weigh her job options against her values and priorities, and her desire to affect change in service of the greater good.
Was it easy? No. Risky? Hell, yes.
What if she had not been able to return to her old job? Would she have been so quick to leave her government post? Her salary? Even in view of her family obligations?
Payton says yes. The experience showed her how vital it is for her to be her authentic self. To be real. To be true to herself.
It was perfect.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
November 5, 2008
About a half-hour after president-elect Barack Obama made his speech in Chicago's Grant park, my college senior son sent me a text message:
"I love this country."
And because I live in a country where my son can make that statement with complete conviction, I love this country, too.
"I love this country."
And because I live in a country where my son can make that statement with complete conviction, I love this country, too.
Monday, November 3, 2008
What Voters Want
It’s Election Eve in America, and I’m attempting to take a break from all the hyperbole and hyperventilation that has surrounded this marathon. Most people I know are extremely invested in the presidential race, and I admit I have a strong preference about the outcome.
But in these few remaining hours before everything becomes focused on Election Day turnout, and before people become consumed by their elation or disappointment in the outcome of the race, I want to pause and think about some unexpected lessons from the campaign.
I have been fascinated to observe how these candidate choices have forced people in America and beyond to perform an internal audit of who they are and what they believe. So much of American political discourse – from both ends of the spectrum – has been identity politics. Red/Blue, liberal/conservative, black/white, pro-war/anti-war, old/young, male/female, rural/urban, citizen/immigrant.
It’s as though we’ve divided ourselves into gangs.
We all like to see ourselves as rational, reasoning people who vote on the issues, but the importance of identity is inescapable. And this election, like no other I can remember, is forcing people to examine and prioritize what’s important to them.
How much does my desire to have someone who Looks Like Me in the oval office rule my vote? And what part of me do I want reflected? My gender? My ethic heritage? My age demographic? Where do my beliefs come into play? Which ones are absolute? Which are negotiable?
Imagine what these questions can mean for someone who never before had to weigh the issues of race and gender when choosing a presidential candidate, someone who always saw themselves reflected in the possible choices.
It’s scary for all of us.
More than anything else, I believe I hear a basic human truth in this election: people want to be heard. They want to be seen for all the things they are, for all of their complexity. Don’t assume you know me because of my race, or my gender or where I grew up or my education. Don’t assume anything about me.
Talk to me. Hear me. Acknowledge me.
Every person on this earth craves recognition in one form or another. Voting is our collective demand to be heard.
And for the voters and the candidates, I hope that demand continues to resonate long after November 4.
But in these few remaining hours before everything becomes focused on Election Day turnout, and before people become consumed by their elation or disappointment in the outcome of the race, I want to pause and think about some unexpected lessons from the campaign.
I have been fascinated to observe how these candidate choices have forced people in America and beyond to perform an internal audit of who they are and what they believe. So much of American political discourse – from both ends of the spectrum – has been identity politics. Red/Blue, liberal/conservative, black/white, pro-war/anti-war, old/young, male/female, rural/urban, citizen/immigrant.
It’s as though we’ve divided ourselves into gangs.
We all like to see ourselves as rational, reasoning people who vote on the issues, but the importance of identity is inescapable. And this election, like no other I can remember, is forcing people to examine and prioritize what’s important to them.
How much does my desire to have someone who Looks Like Me in the oval office rule my vote? And what part of me do I want reflected? My gender? My ethic heritage? My age demographic? Where do my beliefs come into play? Which ones are absolute? Which are negotiable?
Imagine what these questions can mean for someone who never before had to weigh the issues of race and gender when choosing a presidential candidate, someone who always saw themselves reflected in the possible choices.
It’s scary for all of us.
More than anything else, I believe I hear a basic human truth in this election: people want to be heard. They want to be seen for all the things they are, for all of their complexity. Don’t assume you know me because of my race, or my gender or where I grew up or my education. Don’t assume anything about me.
Talk to me. Hear me. Acknowledge me.
Every person on this earth craves recognition in one form or another. Voting is our collective demand to be heard.
And for the voters and the candidates, I hope that demand continues to resonate long after November 4.
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