This week’s issue of Newsweek features an essay written by Chelsey B. “Sully” Sullenberger, the US Airways pilot who executed that miraculous landing of Flight 1549 in the Hudson River last month.
http://www.newsweek.com/id/184605
All I Wanted Was to Talk to My Family, and Get Some Dry Socks
I am among the millions of people who have watched this graceful man accept adulation, admiration and appreciation from every corner of the world. And as I watched him and his crew (who must not be forgotten in the immediate focus on Captain Sullenberger), gamely making the rounds of various media outlets, I wondered how they withstood it. So much attention, so much need to be “on” for the public, so many recitations of their moment of horror. These people had been just about as close to death as anyone who gets to survive and tell the tale. And they had responsibility for 150 other people. I can’t imagine how many times Capt. Sullenberger must have wanted to turn his back and run into the embrace of his family, ministering to their own personal trauma from what could have been.
For me, the Newsweek essay reveals the authentic essence of the Captain in a way that the multiple television interviews did not. His view of leadership, stated so simply and woven throughout the essay, provides an example for each of us. This portion, in particular, stood out to me:
“[W]e followed our training, and our philosophy of life. We valued every life on that airplane and knew it was our responsibility to try and save each one, in spite of the sudden and complete failure of our aircraft.
“We never gave up. Having a plan enabled us to keep our hope alive. Perhaps in a similar fashion, people who are in their own personal crises – a pink slip, a foreclosure – can be reminded that no matter how dire the circumstance, or how little time you have to deal with it, further action is always possible. There’s always a way out of even the tightest spot. You can survive.”
Having a plan. Being clear about your values, priorities and philosophy of life, so you can adjust your plan along the way. Having faith in your ability to survive.
That pretty much sums it up.
One other observation about Capt. Sullenberger: despite the steadiness he conveyed in his various television appearances, he could not hide his discomfort with the hero worship being heaped upon him. He could not view himself that way. Yet in his essay, he expresses his evolution about his new public role, and its value to other people:
“My family and I are trying hard to remain true to ourselves and not let this change us, but there’s a steep learning curve. The trajectory of our lives has changed forever. And we’re determined to make good come of this in every way that we can.”
The words of an authentic leader.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Quote Of The Day
"Worry is not preparation."
Love this. If anyone can give me the origin of this quote, please share. It may be C.S. Lewis; I'm happy to attribute proper credit.
Love this. If anyone can give me the origin of this quote, please share. It may be C.S. Lewis; I'm happy to attribute proper credit.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Letting go: Another view
Yesterday I let go of a friend. I fought it all the way.
Yesterday my friend was buried after a short but extremely ferocious battle with cancer. We were the same age.
Sandee had passed away one week before. None of us were ready. Not her sister, nor her father, nor the extensive network of friends she had accumulated during her extraordinary life.
And certainly not her son, the light of her life, the infant she'd adopted as a single parent when he was three days old. How could 12 short years with her prepare him for her absence?
Sandee was nutz about her son. She radiated love for him, in every look and in every conversation. Yet his addition to her life only magnified the light Sandee beamed out every day.
Sandee had enjoyed a successful career as a journalist before moving into the world of Public Relations. She sought a lifestyle with better hours and more stability. The transition was part of her preparation for the role she knew she was destined to embrace: Mother.
She saw no greater calling. And not just for herself. This woman of boundless, centered faith created a ministry at her church to support caring adults who were drawn to adopt African American children, especially boys. She knew that there were all kinds of families who could nurture children and raise them to reach their potential.
Sandee and son were quite a team. Her love was unconditional, and she loved him enough to set boundaries and expectations. Her confidence in his future was unlimited.
At the beginning of his eulogy, Sandee's pastor did something I'd never experienced before. He asked the congregation to rise and "give God a hand" for blessing us with the life of Sandra. The applause went on for almost two minutes. The catharsis was immense.
And in that moment of celebration, in an environment filled with light and love, an environment that was so authentic to the spirit of my friend, I let go of my anger at the loss of her physical presence. I let go of the Sandee I had known. I realized that her spirit would stay with all of us. She would never let us go.
Yesterday my friend was buried after a short but extremely ferocious battle with cancer. We were the same age.
Sandee had passed away one week before. None of us were ready. Not her sister, nor her father, nor the extensive network of friends she had accumulated during her extraordinary life.
And certainly not her son, the light of her life, the infant she'd adopted as a single parent when he was three days old. How could 12 short years with her prepare him for her absence?
Sandee was nutz about her son. She radiated love for him, in every look and in every conversation. Yet his addition to her life only magnified the light Sandee beamed out every day.
Sandee had enjoyed a successful career as a journalist before moving into the world of Public Relations. She sought a lifestyle with better hours and more stability. The transition was part of her preparation for the role she knew she was destined to embrace: Mother.
She saw no greater calling. And not just for herself. This woman of boundless, centered faith created a ministry at her church to support caring adults who were drawn to adopt African American children, especially boys. She knew that there were all kinds of families who could nurture children and raise them to reach their potential.
Sandee and son were quite a team. Her love was unconditional, and she loved him enough to set boundaries and expectations. Her confidence in his future was unlimited.
At the beginning of his eulogy, Sandee's pastor did something I'd never experienced before. He asked the congregation to rise and "give God a hand" for blessing us with the life of Sandra. The applause went on for almost two minutes. The catharsis was immense.
And in that moment of celebration, in an environment filled with light and love, an environment that was so authentic to the spirit of my friend, I let go of my anger at the loss of her physical presence. I let go of the Sandee I had known. I realized that her spirit would stay with all of us. She would never let us go.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
My Mistake
Our new president has completed his second full week in office. And although he still enjoys approval ratings upwards of sixty percent, I'm guessing that he's glad to have day 14 behind him.
President Obama arranged to make himself available Tuesday for a series of interviews with the news anchors from the major broadcast television networks. The appearances were part of a plan to build support for his economic stimulus plan. He also wanted to highlight his ongoing bipartisan outreach efforts, illustrated by his choice of a Republican senator to fill the post of Commerce Secretary.
That was the plan when all that network airtime was scheduled.
The president did get to talk about his stimulus plan and his Commerce appointment. But only after he had to account for the withdrawal of two other major cabinet appointments due to their tax problems. And this came on the heals of the new Treasury Secretary and his tax mea culpa.
Mr. Obama acknowledged his embarrassment, and how these lapses in the vetting process could look to the Americans who voted for him to bring change to Washington.
"I screwed up," he said. The president said "I screwed up." Again and again, interview after interview, to be played again and again on various newscasts.
Observers have likened Mr. Obama's popularity and celebrity to that of a rock star. Even rock stars make mistakes. Will make mistakes. Guaranteed.
Leaders may be measured more by their performance in the face of failure than success. Can they admit error? Learn from their mistakes? Make corrections mid-course? Do they demonstrate the dynamic flexibility required to handle the unexpected?
In the continuum of unexpected presidential challenges, the tax problems of a few potential cabinet members won't seem like much down the road when compared to military incursions, natural disasters or environmental threats. But maybe Tuesday provided some insight into how this president will respond when the Next Big Thing lands unannounced on his desk.
President Obama arranged to make himself available Tuesday for a series of interviews with the news anchors from the major broadcast television networks. The appearances were part of a plan to build support for his economic stimulus plan. He also wanted to highlight his ongoing bipartisan outreach efforts, illustrated by his choice of a Republican senator to fill the post of Commerce Secretary.
That was the plan when all that network airtime was scheduled.
The president did get to talk about his stimulus plan and his Commerce appointment. But only after he had to account for the withdrawal of two other major cabinet appointments due to their tax problems. And this came on the heals of the new Treasury Secretary and his tax mea culpa.
Mr. Obama acknowledged his embarrassment, and how these lapses in the vetting process could look to the Americans who voted for him to bring change to Washington.
"I screwed up," he said. The president said "I screwed up." Again and again, interview after interview, to be played again and again on various newscasts.
Observers have likened Mr. Obama's popularity and celebrity to that of a rock star. Even rock stars make mistakes. Will make mistakes. Guaranteed.
Leaders may be measured more by their performance in the face of failure than success. Can they admit error? Learn from their mistakes? Make corrections mid-course? Do they demonstrate the dynamic flexibility required to handle the unexpected?
In the continuum of unexpected presidential challenges, the tax problems of a few potential cabinet members won't seem like much down the road when compared to military incursions, natural disasters or environmental threats. But maybe Tuesday provided some insight into how this president will respond when the Next Big Thing lands unannounced on his desk.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Incentives, Assumptions and Research
Why Incentives Are Effective, Irresistible, and Almost Certain to Backfire | Fast Company
Posted using ShareThis
Jill Geisler, faculty member at the Poynter Institute for Media Studies in Florida, points out this important article in Fast Company magazine. It clearly illustrates the law of unintended consequence. I also appreciate this piece because it drills down into some of the reasons for unintended consequences.
The article mentions research into a practice called "focusing illusion." Basically, that's when people assume they know how other people think, or how they will react. And you know that old saying about the word "assume" -- "it makes an ass out of you and an ass out of me."
No offense meant.
A classmate in my coaching certification class gave me the best counterweight ever to the practice of assumption. His motto: "When you meet resistance, do research."
John's motto is perfect because of its simplicity and efficiency. Compare the potential time savings from a few direct questions to develop a specific remedy, verses a course of trial and failure based on inadequate information, or assumption.
Research helps avoid the unintended consequences. And that should be a powerful incentive.
Posted using ShareThis
Jill Geisler, faculty member at the Poynter Institute for Media Studies in Florida, points out this important article in Fast Company magazine. It clearly illustrates the law of unintended consequence. I also appreciate this piece because it drills down into some of the reasons for unintended consequences.
The article mentions research into a practice called "focusing illusion." Basically, that's when people assume they know how other people think, or how they will react. And you know that old saying about the word "assume" -- "it makes an ass out of you and an ass out of me."
No offense meant.
A classmate in my coaching certification class gave me the best counterweight ever to the practice of assumption. His motto: "When you meet resistance, do research."
John's motto is perfect because of its simplicity and efficiency. Compare the potential time savings from a few direct questions to develop a specific remedy, verses a course of trial and failure based on inadequate information, or assumption.
Research helps avoid the unintended consequences. And that should be a powerful incentive.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Size Matters
Fans of the HBO series "Sex and the City" may remember Miranda's "skinny jeans." The episode focused on Miranda's triumph when she successfully got back into a pair of blue jeans she favored before her pregnancy with her son. The jeans were more than a piece of clothing; they represented the pre-baby story she maintained about her appearance and her life.
Most women I know have graduated wardrobes -- clothes that reflect the passage of styles and sizes that match various periods of their adult lives.
One executive I know kept a picture of her thinner self in her home office with a PostIt attached which said "I Want This Body Back!"
Another entrepreneur I know had maintained a closet carefully coordinated by size so that she could retrieve whatever outfit she needed, no matter where she fell within her six-size spread (no pun intended).
Now, I like to save money as much as the next person. And despite the thrill of "retail therapy," I usually discourage the idea of shopping just for the fun of shopping. There are other, better feel-good remedies to be found.
However, the idea of retreating to old clothes and old body images doesn't work for me either.
When I asked the executive about her fixation with her 20-years younger self, she talked about how attractive she was back then. Indeed, the photograph shows a beautiful, confident woman; a show-stopper. She was, as they say in the venacular, FINE.
The passage of two decades had not robbed this vice president of her looks. She remains a beautiful woman, commanding attention whenever she walk into a room.
Does it make sense for any middle-aged woman to compete against image of someone 20 years younger? Even if it's your own image?
Think on that.
As for the clothing collector: can it be good to keep reaching back to old images and presentions? Even if the clothes fit the body, they may not fit the personality inside them now.
Millions of words have been written and spoken about weight loss and body image and fitness and self-maintenance. Those all are important issues, but secondary to this point of this essay. I am writing about self awareness in the present moment. Where you are now, and where you are going.
The executive acknowledged that her 20-years-younger self looked great, but lacked the awareness and experience she now brought to the executive suite. The entrepreneur knows she is putting forth a much different image to the world now that she works for herself.
It's not the garment, nor the number on the label, that determine the "fit." That comes from within.
Try that on for size.
Most women I know have graduated wardrobes -- clothes that reflect the passage of styles and sizes that match various periods of their adult lives.
One executive I know kept a picture of her thinner self in her home office with a PostIt attached which said "I Want This Body Back!"
Another entrepreneur I know had maintained a closet carefully coordinated by size so that she could retrieve whatever outfit she needed, no matter where she fell within her six-size spread (no pun intended).
Now, I like to save money as much as the next person. And despite the thrill of "retail therapy," I usually discourage the idea of shopping just for the fun of shopping. There are other, better feel-good remedies to be found.
However, the idea of retreating to old clothes and old body images doesn't work for me either.
When I asked the executive about her fixation with her 20-years younger self, she talked about how attractive she was back then. Indeed, the photograph shows a beautiful, confident woman; a show-stopper. She was, as they say in the venacular, FINE.
The passage of two decades had not robbed this vice president of her looks. She remains a beautiful woman, commanding attention whenever she walk into a room.
Does it make sense for any middle-aged woman to compete against image of someone 20 years younger? Even if it's your own image?
Think on that.
As for the clothing collector: can it be good to keep reaching back to old images and presentions? Even if the clothes fit the body, they may not fit the personality inside them now.
Millions of words have been written and spoken about weight loss and body image and fitness and self-maintenance. Those all are important issues, but secondary to this point of this essay. I am writing about self awareness in the present moment. Where you are now, and where you are going.
The executive acknowledged that her 20-years-younger self looked great, but lacked the awareness and experience she now brought to the executive suite. The entrepreneur knows she is putting forth a much different image to the world now that she works for herself.
It's not the garment, nor the number on the label, that determine the "fit." That comes from within.
Try that on for size.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Post-Inauguration Insights
I'm blurry as I write this, after a day of goodbyes and departures as family heads home from the events of Tuesday, January 20, 2008.
I was down on the National Mall, in the thick of it. Freezing temperatures, overflow crowds, hours waiting, whatever. Didn't matter. It was history, and I wanted, NEEDED, to be present, even if I could barely see the West Front of the Capitol far off in the distance. I would have been there even without the huge Jumbotron screens placed strategically along the Mall.
As I've written before, on election night, my son sent me a text saying "I love this country." And as I looked at my cellphone, I realized that for the first time, as an African American woman who has spent a lifetime loving this country, I truly felt as though my country loved me back. That my skin color no longer qualified my country's love for me. Or my children.
The fact that I got to experience the inauguration on the Mall with my son and daughter and sister on either side made the moment that much more sweet.
I've never been in a crowd that large. I've never been a part of a crowd all focused so intensely on one moment, on one sentiment, on one collective feeling.
That afternoon, after hours of fighting the crowds and the cold to make our way back home, I called a childhood friend who had watched the days' events in her home in the midwest. Julie was bursting with excitment about what she'd seen during her channel surfing, and all the conversations she'd had and observations she'd shared. She even told people about me and my family braving the cold on the Mall.
Did I mention that Julie was home alone all day? And that she had warned people not to call or interrupt her on Tuesday?
My friend's viewing community was made up of people on Twitter. She was connected to people all over the world, tweeting and responding to each other.
Personally, I hungered for the chance to see and feel the reactions of the people surrounding me. The tactile experience of numb toes and chapped cheeks just added to my sense memory of the event.
If Julie had been in Washington Tuesday, we probably would have gone to the Mall together. Yet she was happy and elated to share her inaugural experience electronically through her international network of acquaintances and strangers.
As it happens, Julie is developing into a kind of expert on social media and its applications. She gives presentations to organizations seeking to reach new audiences. She "gets" it, and more importantly, she understands that people may chose diverse ways to take in information or experience the world.
The more Julie and I shared our views of the day, I realized I was hearing the difference between contact and solitude, between the effort of being around people on a regular basis and the satisfaction of being on your own. Julie has insight into a whole universe of people who adapt to new technologies precisely because they chose a variety of ways to interact with other people, within their comfort levels.
We each found our own way to experience and celebrate the inauguration. The right way.
I was down on the National Mall, in the thick of it. Freezing temperatures, overflow crowds, hours waiting, whatever. Didn't matter. It was history, and I wanted, NEEDED, to be present, even if I could barely see the West Front of the Capitol far off in the distance. I would have been there even without the huge Jumbotron screens placed strategically along the Mall.
As I've written before, on election night, my son sent me a text saying "I love this country." And as I looked at my cellphone, I realized that for the first time, as an African American woman who has spent a lifetime loving this country, I truly felt as though my country loved me back. That my skin color no longer qualified my country's love for me. Or my children.
The fact that I got to experience the inauguration on the Mall with my son and daughter and sister on either side made the moment that much more sweet.
I've never been in a crowd that large. I've never been a part of a crowd all focused so intensely on one moment, on one sentiment, on one collective feeling.
That afternoon, after hours of fighting the crowds and the cold to make our way back home, I called a childhood friend who had watched the days' events in her home in the midwest. Julie was bursting with excitment about what she'd seen during her channel surfing, and all the conversations she'd had and observations she'd shared. She even told people about me and my family braving the cold on the Mall.
Did I mention that Julie was home alone all day? And that she had warned people not to call or interrupt her on Tuesday?
My friend's viewing community was made up of people on Twitter. She was connected to people all over the world, tweeting and responding to each other.
Personally, I hungered for the chance to see and feel the reactions of the people surrounding me. The tactile experience of numb toes and chapped cheeks just added to my sense memory of the event.
If Julie had been in Washington Tuesday, we probably would have gone to the Mall together. Yet she was happy and elated to share her inaugural experience electronically through her international network of acquaintances and strangers.
As it happens, Julie is developing into a kind of expert on social media and its applications. She gives presentations to organizations seeking to reach new audiences. She "gets" it, and more importantly, she understands that people may chose diverse ways to take in information or experience the world.
The more Julie and I shared our views of the day, I realized I was hearing the difference between contact and solitude, between the effort of being around people on a regular basis and the satisfaction of being on your own. Julie has insight into a whole universe of people who adapt to new technologies precisely because they chose a variety of ways to interact with other people, within their comfort levels.
We each found our own way to experience and celebrate the inauguration. The right way.
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