I write this the morning of my son’s college graduation. The sun has been up for about an hour. A smattering of clouds lessens the sun’s intensity and may threaten the outdoor commencement ceremonies planned for later this morning.
Yet, I am looking out on a perfect day, one of the most perfect I have known.
Most of my close family has gathered in New England this morning, safely negotiating the insane holiday weekend traffic. The state of my mother’s health would not permit her to join us, but we will share this special moment with her later this week.
Readers of this blog will know that for the majority of their lives, I have raised my two children by myself, following their father’s sudden death years ago. In the early morning quiet, as our daughter sleeps peacefully in the bed next to mine, my head is filled with my late husband.
Like so many parents, we began to plan our children’s lives while they were still in utero. We thought about the type of neighborhood we should live in, where we would vacation, what lessons they would take and what we would expose them to in order for them to become fully rounded citizens of the world.
Most importantly, we talked about education. Education was of paramount importance to both of us. My husband actually may have been more intense, since there was no assumption in his family that he or any of his brothers ever would go to college. Service in the military, an overnight job paired with a full daytime class load, and a variety of student loans helped him reach his goal. I came from a family where a college education was the expectation, not an option. So I think I didn’t feel the imperative that my husband felt.
We would talk about what colleges our children might attend, like a lot of obsessive yuppie parents. We had evidence of our son’s intellect and character early in his life. At about age three, our son had taught himself to read, yet was reluctant to let us know because other kids had yet to reach his level. He has displayed that combination of intelligence and humility throughout his life.
My husband and I would project into the future, visualizing the college settings where our children’s names were called and they walked across the stage to receive their degrees.
Unfortunately, by the time my children graduated from high school, their father’s passing had long since become woven into the fabric of our lives.
As I wrote, this is a perfect morning. My son will be graduating with honors today. Every time I think about that, it makes me cry. I cry for our losses, I cry for our struggles, I cry for our victories, I cry for my son’s achievements today and those he and his sister have won in the past and those yet to come. I cry for how we got over.
I cry for the incalculable gift of family and friends, the Village that has helped me raise my children. I cry for my late father, whose extraordinary example as a man, husband, father, grandfather and community leader provided the foundation for where we are today. I cry in gratitude for all the love and support that surrounds all of us today, terrestrial and celestial.
The sky is looking a little more ominous. We may get that rain.
It will be perfect.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Save Yourself
This panel from Dave Coverly's "Speed Bump" comic made me chuckle. It also has special resonance for me as a coach. The truth is that in most instances, people actually save themselves from mistakes or bad choices. Other people in their lives -- family, friends, mentors, co-workers, therapists and coaches -- can shine a light on the opportunities, options and choices available to all of us. But the choice to be saved belongs to each of us.
Be your own s/hero.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Women and Bullies
In a post on this blog last month, I mentioned the phenomenon of workplace bullies. Now, a recent article in the New York Times focuses attention on a special form of work place bullying: women who bully other women.
Reporter Mickey Meece provides context in her article by noting the special challenges that women face in achieving higher rank within the work force, and also how stereotypes held by both men and women and can make it difficult for women and taint the perceptions of their performance. Meece offers information about the costs in retention and retraining that can come when bullies are not brought under control.
In an additional warning, Meece writes: "During this downturn, as stress levels rise, workplace researchers say, bullies are likely to sharpen their elbows and ratchet up their attacks."
Another reason why forward-thinking leaders should be looking for signs of bullying, and ready to stop it in its tracks.
Once again, the link to the New York Times article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/business/10women.html?em
Reporter Mickey Meece provides context in her article by noting the special challenges that women face in achieving higher rank within the work force, and also how stereotypes held by both men and women and can make it difficult for women and taint the perceptions of their performance. Meece offers information about the costs in retention and retraining that can come when bullies are not brought under control.
In an additional warning, Meece writes: "During this downturn, as stress levels rise, workplace researchers say, bullies are likely to sharpen their elbows and ratchet up their attacks."
Another reason why forward-thinking leaders should be looking for signs of bullying, and ready to stop it in its tracks.
Once again, the link to the New York Times article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/business/10women.html?em
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Make the Cow
One of my good friends, Elizabeth, is probably the most erudite, cosmopolitan person I personally know. Another daughter of the great Midwest, Elizabeth is a world traveler, fluent in several languages, successful in a variety of vocations. She also is a creative, instinctive cook; a fluid writer and a gracious hostess with a distinct style aesthetic that can be seen in every room she inhabits. Even her offices.
As it often happens to people with multiple abilities, the weight of all that talent can bog a person down. She tells a story from her childhood that illustrates the burden of that choice:
Back in grade school, Elizabeth's efforts to craft a cow from modeling clay caught the attention of her teacher. She, along with a few other selected students, was given the privilege of taking their clay home so that they could have additional time to perfect their creations.
Elizabeth's mother, a savvy, frugal and practical woman, looked on as her child continued to sculpt her bovine statue. "It's nice," her mom said, "but what do you do with it? Maybe if it was part of an ashtray or something..."
So Elizabeth, wanting to please her mom, divided the clay so that there was enough for an ashtray to attach to the cow.
The teacher expressed her dismay the next day at school. "Why did you do that?" she cried. "It was beautiful before. Now I don't know what it is."
As Elizabeth spends more time on her creative pursuits, she gets frustrated when her efforts to find more practical, money making applications interfere with her aesthetic vision. As though no one ever bought a piece of art for its sheer beauty, or bought a book for its ability to transport the reader to a different state of being.
The way I see it, sometimes you should just forget about the ashtray. Just make the cow.
As it often happens to people with multiple abilities, the weight of all that talent can bog a person down. She tells a story from her childhood that illustrates the burden of that choice:
Back in grade school, Elizabeth's efforts to craft a cow from modeling clay caught the attention of her teacher. She, along with a few other selected students, was given the privilege of taking their clay home so that they could have additional time to perfect their creations.
Elizabeth's mother, a savvy, frugal and practical woman, looked on as her child continued to sculpt her bovine statue. "It's nice," her mom said, "but what do you do with it? Maybe if it was part of an ashtray or something..."
So Elizabeth, wanting to please her mom, divided the clay so that there was enough for an ashtray to attach to the cow.
The teacher expressed her dismay the next day at school. "Why did you do that?" she cried. "It was beautiful before. Now I don't know what it is."
As Elizabeth spends more time on her creative pursuits, she gets frustrated when her efforts to find more practical, money making applications interfere with her aesthetic vision. As though no one ever bought a piece of art for its sheer beauty, or bought a book for its ability to transport the reader to a different state of being.
The way I see it, sometimes you should just forget about the ashtray. Just make the cow.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Listen
I am fascinated by the HBO series “In Treatment,” and particularly actor Gabriel Byrne’s portrayal of the empathetic, insightful, flawed therapist Paul Weston.
Each episode is compelling, in large part because of the exquisite, subtle and nuanced writing. The producers do not rely on some huge revelation or patient breakthrough by the end of each half hour. The audience, the therapist and the patient learn gradually (and sometimes uncomfortably) as the conversations progress.
"In Treatment" also showcases amazing performances by Gabriel Byrne (delivered with his deep, musical Irish lilt) and the actors who play his patients. They manage to wring so much tension out of each episode that it’s only at the end of the half-hour that you realize all you’ve been watching is two or three people in a room, talking.
Watching Dr. Weston’s work with his four patients, and the doctor’s work with his own therapist, is instructive and discomforting at the same time. As a coach, I am riveted by Dr. Weston’s listening ability and process. At the same time, I note with concern the parallels between therapy and coaching.
There is no question that the relationship between coach and client can be therapeutic, and ideally, should have some therapeutic qualities. Yet coaching is not therapy, and is not intended to be. There is an ongoing challenge to maintain awareness of the distinction between those disciplines.
What coaching and therapy share is a foundation of deep listening. During a recent interview on the NPR program “Fresh Air,” Byrne discussed the qualities of listening with host Terry Gross.
“Listening is one of the most profound complements that you can pay to another person.,” said Byrne. “And to feel that you’re heard can be truly fulfilling.”
Gross, often recognized as one of the best interviewers in broadcasting, noted the similarities between Byrne’s portrayal of therapy and her own job: “It’s about listening and asking good questions.”
As Byrne examined his preparation for the role of Paul Weston, he told how he had become an observer of the act of listening, and how that act can be transcendent:
“…[S]he was so absorbed in everything that he was saying…but in the act of engaging with him, by listening, she was outside herself. And I looked at them and realized that that was what the act of listening is – when you’re absolutely absorbed in what the other person is saying. Really, truly, profoundly listening is to be unaware of yourself at a deep level.”
I’m not suggesting that every act of listening needs to be or should be done at the level described by Byrne. Yet the various levels of listening, and the power of being absorbed in another person’s words and even their silence, are tools available to everyone – therapists, actors, interviewers – and coaches.
Each episode is compelling, in large part because of the exquisite, subtle and nuanced writing. The producers do not rely on some huge revelation or patient breakthrough by the end of each half hour. The audience, the therapist and the patient learn gradually (and sometimes uncomfortably) as the conversations progress.
"In Treatment" also showcases amazing performances by Gabriel Byrne (delivered with his deep, musical Irish lilt) and the actors who play his patients. They manage to wring so much tension out of each episode that it’s only at the end of the half-hour that you realize all you’ve been watching is two or three people in a room, talking.
Watching Dr. Weston’s work with his four patients, and the doctor’s work with his own therapist, is instructive and discomforting at the same time. As a coach, I am riveted by Dr. Weston’s listening ability and process. At the same time, I note with concern the parallels between therapy and coaching.
There is no question that the relationship between coach and client can be therapeutic, and ideally, should have some therapeutic qualities. Yet coaching is not therapy, and is not intended to be. There is an ongoing challenge to maintain awareness of the distinction between those disciplines.
What coaching and therapy share is a foundation of deep listening. During a recent interview on the NPR program “Fresh Air,” Byrne discussed the qualities of listening with host Terry Gross.
“Listening is one of the most profound complements that you can pay to another person.,” said Byrne. “And to feel that you’re heard can be truly fulfilling.”
Gross, often recognized as one of the best interviewers in broadcasting, noted the similarities between Byrne’s portrayal of therapy and her own job: “It’s about listening and asking good questions.”
As Byrne examined his preparation for the role of Paul Weston, he told how he had become an observer of the act of listening, and how that act can be transcendent:
“…[S]he was so absorbed in everything that he was saying…but in the act of engaging with him, by listening, she was outside herself. And I looked at them and realized that that was what the act of listening is – when you’re absolutely absorbed in what the other person is saying. Really, truly, profoundly listening is to be unaware of yourself at a deep level.”
I’m not suggesting that every act of listening needs to be or should be done at the level described by Byrne. Yet the various levels of listening, and the power of being absorbed in another person’s words and even their silence, are tools available to everyone – therapists, actors, interviewers – and coaches.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Pay (More) Attention
This week's Science section in the New York Times has a good article on the new book Rapt: Attention and the Focused Life, written by Winifred Gallagher and referenced in this blog last week.
The Times article offers additional support for Ms. Gallagher's conclusions about the myth of multi-tasking by noting recently published research in the science journals Nature and Neuron about the process of paying attention.
Gallagher, a cancer survivor, takes a very personal view of the process of paying attention. She describes how during her cancer treatments, she realized she had a finite amount of attention to use and also describes her choice of whether to focus that attention on family or the possible prospect of her death.
“People don’t understand that attention is a finite resource, like money,” she told the Times. “I’d ask myself: Do you want to lie here paying attention to the very good chance you’ll die and leave your children motherless, or do you want to get up and wash your face and pay attention to your work and your family and your friends? Hell or heaven — it’s your choice.”
The Times article offers additional support for Ms. Gallagher's conclusions about the myth of multi-tasking by noting recently published research in the science journals Nature and Neuron about the process of paying attention.
Gallagher, a cancer survivor, takes a very personal view of the process of paying attention. She describes how during her cancer treatments, she realized she had a finite amount of attention to use and also describes her choice of whether to focus that attention on family or the possible prospect of her death.
“People don’t understand that attention is a finite resource, like money,” she told the Times. “I’d ask myself: Do you want to lie here paying attention to the very good chance you’ll die and leave your children motherless, or do you want to get up and wash your face and pay attention to your work and your family and your friends? Hell or heaven — it’s your choice.”
Friday, May 1, 2009
Stand Up
I was on a short Southwest flight last week – not enough time to really do any work of my own, but just enough time to browse through the airline’s well-written inflight magazine, Southwest Spirit. Which offered a tale of unparalleled leadership from an unexpected source.
The April issue’s cover features Cameron Hughes, a rather nondescript middle aged Canadian who makes his living as a fan-for-hire; a cheer-leading hired gun, so to speak.
Hughes commands large sums of money from major and minor league professional sports franchises to, well, cheer. Although that seems to be a poor definition of his unique skill.
Dressed in well-worn denim jeans, a sports shirt and athletic shoes, Hughes takes his seat among the rest of the fans in the arena and watches the first few minutes of the game. Then he stands, and he starts to clap. He turns to encourage others around him to clap. If they don’t join him, his movements get more exaggerated; maybe even manic.
Somehow, in each venue, the same thing happens: the sight of this oh-so-average looking guy throwing himself wildly into enthusiastic, fanatic expression gets the crowd going. No matter how sparse the turn out. No matter how pitiful the team’s record. He dances. He gyrates. He pulls off his outer shirt to reveal layers of team logo shirts, which he then strips off and generously tosses to the now-cheering crowd.
Hughes first discovered his special talent in high school, after failing to win a spot on the basketball team. He devoted his 6’ 3” frame to fan performance, complete with painted face and hand-painted signs.
He continued to hone his act in college, where he evolved into “Mellon Man,” a costumed character adorned by a helmet made from half of a carved-out watermelon.
Hughes began his professional career as a frantic fan for his local hockey team, first getting paid in free tickets and paraphernalia. That evolved into cash payments, and now he earns about $1500 a night for 70 to 80 games a year.
Sports teams hire Hughes because of the value he adds to the ticket buyers’ entertainment experience, whether the home team wins or loses…or loses most of the time. Yet Hughes understands that he’s providing more than entertainment. As writer Mike Darling explains:
When Hughes performs, it’s not just about helping fans cheer a little louder for the home team, but about helping people transcend the moment and feel connected to something bigger. While Hughes works mainly in sports arenas, he also tours the country pumping up crowds of students and businessmen—including his alma mater, eight years running. “Most of all, I talk about the need to stand up,” he says. “It sums up all that I do. You can’t accomplish anything in life unless you’re first willing to stand up. The fact is, I got up at a hockey game all those years ago, I wasn’t afraid to be who I was, and it changed my life forever.”
Cameron Hughes. Superfan. Standup Guy. Leader.
The April issue’s cover features Cameron Hughes, a rather nondescript middle aged Canadian who makes his living as a fan-for-hire; a cheer-leading hired gun, so to speak.
Hughes commands large sums of money from major and minor league professional sports franchises to, well, cheer. Although that seems to be a poor definition of his unique skill.
Dressed in well-worn denim jeans, a sports shirt and athletic shoes, Hughes takes his seat among the rest of the fans in the arena and watches the first few minutes of the game. Then he stands, and he starts to clap. He turns to encourage others around him to clap. If they don’t join him, his movements get more exaggerated; maybe even manic.
Somehow, in each venue, the same thing happens: the sight of this oh-so-average looking guy throwing himself wildly into enthusiastic, fanatic expression gets the crowd going. No matter how sparse the turn out. No matter how pitiful the team’s record. He dances. He gyrates. He pulls off his outer shirt to reveal layers of team logo shirts, which he then strips off and generously tosses to the now-cheering crowd.
Hughes first discovered his special talent in high school, after failing to win a spot on the basketball team. He devoted his 6’ 3” frame to fan performance, complete with painted face and hand-painted signs.
He continued to hone his act in college, where he evolved into “Mellon Man,” a costumed character adorned by a helmet made from half of a carved-out watermelon.
Hughes began his professional career as a frantic fan for his local hockey team, first getting paid in free tickets and paraphernalia. That evolved into cash payments, and now he earns about $1500 a night for 70 to 80 games a year.
Sports teams hire Hughes because of the value he adds to the ticket buyers’ entertainment experience, whether the home team wins or loses…or loses most of the time. Yet Hughes understands that he’s providing more than entertainment. As writer Mike Darling explains:
When Hughes performs, it’s not just about helping fans cheer a little louder for the home team, but about helping people transcend the moment and feel connected to something bigger. While Hughes works mainly in sports arenas, he also tours the country pumping up crowds of students and businessmen—including his alma mater, eight years running. “Most of all, I talk about the need to stand up,” he says. “It sums up all that I do. You can’t accomplish anything in life unless you’re first willing to stand up. The fact is, I got up at a hockey game all those years ago, I wasn’t afraid to be who I was, and it changed my life forever.”
Cameron Hughes. Superfan. Standup Guy. Leader.
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