on productivity (and what it takes)

My friend likes to think that I write all my blog posts about him.  So, in a friendly move, I'm actually writing one about him.  (You're welcome.)

At dinner a while ago, he and I talked about his new job, and how part of the reason he took the job was to prove to himself that he could.  I've always known he could, but I've never doubted his professional skills the way he has.  One thing I know about him -- if he says he's going to do it (for work), he'll work hard to make sure it's done.

We had dinner again recently, and in talking about our schedules, he told me that he's still working the same ridiculous hours -- full, long work weeks and consistently working on weekends.  I've been telling him for years (and, in his defense, he's been agreeing with me for years -- though not doing anything about it) that working harder and longer is not necessarily the key to working better.

And luckily, I found an article recently that says I might be right.

Relax! You'll Be More Productive, written by Tony Schwartz for the New York Times says, "A new and growing body of multidisciplinary research shows that strategic renewal — including daytime workouts, short afternoon naps, longer sleep hours, more time away from the office and longer, more frequent vacations — boosts productivity, job performance and, of course, health."

Schwartz goes on to praise what he calls "renewals" -- naps, vacations, times in which the mind is quiet -- and the beneficial impact they have on our ability to stay focused and work smarter.  "By managing energy more skillfully, it’s possible to get more done, in less time, more sustainably," he argues.  

See the rest of it for yourself here.

vulnerability

A dear friend of mine recently sent me a podcast about vulnerability that was part of an hour-long TED program created by NPR (a good remix if you're tired of listening to TED talks that rely heavily on visuals).  In this talk, Brene Brown -- a woman I had heretofore avoided because I saw she had been on Oprah and, well, that made me doubt how uncheesy she was going to be -- focuses on shame and vulnerability.  She defines shame as more ore less this fear:  "is there something about me, that if other people know it or see it, that I won't be worthy of connection?"

She tells the story about her struggle with vulnerability and the research she's done around people who are willing to be vulnerable.

It's a great listen:  http://www.npr.org/2013/03/11/174030515/making-mistakes

an experiment in love

My ability to love is one of my greatest strengths. In the past I viewed it like a superpower and saved my love for when it’s needed (making sure I Used My Power For Good). But I didn’t allow myself to goof off with it and just have a good time. Think about it: Wonderwoman must have flown her invisible jet to the Caribbean for a weekend, and when no one was looking, I guarantee you Spiderman made trampolines out of his webs. So instead of over-focusing on Finding The One or Getting The Love I Need or Calling In Mr. Right, I decided it was time to be as loving as I can on a regular basis. You know, for kicks.


Luckily, I think I’m on the right path. I was recently told how incredibly loving I am – from someone who wasn’t even in love with me! So this is good.

The difference between how I see it now and how I’ve seen it in the past is the result. I’ve been afraid to love if there’s even the slightest chance I won’t be loved in return. But that’s just a game of chicken. Why wait for the other person to dive first? Why not just practice loving and see what happens?

I came across a couple of articles recently that really spoke to being loving instead of being loved. Robert Holden posted a lovely piece on The Daily Love that talked about what happens when two people looking for love find each other: nothing. They may find infatuation and be tempted to think it’s love, but it falls apart. “If, however,” he says, “you are committed to being the most loving person you know, you will attract someone who is committed to living on that wavelength too. And, when two people – who are committed to being the love they are looking for – finally meet, they will find love.”

(Hooray!)

Another piece that caught my eye was by Margaret Paul, Ph.D., an author who specializes in relationships. She posted ten signs that you’re really in love (and not just infatuated) and the one that stood out to me was number four:

You receive deep joy in giving to your beloved.

Her focus is more on being supportive and not begrudging your partner any of the work you do on his or her behalf, but I see it as the same thing – you get great pleasure out of loving your partner (not out of being loved by your partner).

It’s a new perspective and a new experiment, so I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.

the power (and agony) of silence

Due to a knock-you-down-drag-you-out-and-just-when-you-think-it-can't-be-worse-spit-on-your-feverishly-clammy-and-achy-body sickness, I've been unable to speak above a whisper for eight days. Eight days!  This is my new definition of hell.

I've discovered some interesting things, though.

The pros of silence

• Turns out that many things I find myself wanting to say, if I just give others a little more time, they'll figure out for themselves.  So not all of my comments are as urgent as I've thought them to be.  
• It wasn't until this experience that I remembered what it was like not to know the answers to questions.  (Was there life before the internet?)
• I can observe others a great deal more.  
• Texting becomes a more viable means of communication.
• I can hear myself think.
• Not speaking up has made me realize how easy it is for others (especially introverts) to feel trampled by those, like me, who speak easily and all the time.
• I've realized there are more means of communication than speech.  Acts of service, performed by my loved ones, have reminded me that, even though I miss it desperately, talk is cheap.
• I've seen the value of choosing what I say and being as succinct as possible.
• There are specific people I actively miss speaking to.  (This is a nice feeling, strangely.)

The cons of silence

• I'm a very, very social animal.  Not being able to express my thoughts has made me feel sad, lonely, isolated, and irrelevant.  
• It's not as if my thoughts have been stilled, they've just been trapped.  And I think this was how my first attempt at meditation looked -- I was trying not to have thoughts, or to regulate them, or somehow master them.  Leaving me feeling isolated and unhappy.  
• I haven't been able to coach, work, or follow up with people beyond emailing.
• Did I mention it's lonely?  It's lonely.
• There are specific people I actively miss speaking to.  (This also a not-so-nice feeling, it turns out.)

I've often wondered if I could do one of those retreats where you don't speak for ten days.  Turns out, I probably could.  The question is, would I want to?

it's all situational

Just last week I was certified in Ken Blanchard's Situational Leadership Model (II), which basically helps leaders determine where their direct reports fall on an intersecting continuum of commitment and competence.  Then, depending on where those followers fall, the leader flexes his or her style to meet the followers where they are.

The picture below helps describe this.  The D1-D4 section at the bottom relates to the follower's commitment ("will do") and competence ("can do") and the four-box at the top relates to how the leader should interact with the follower based on his or her "D" status.  You can see that if the person is a D1, the leader should use Style S1, which involves a lot of telling, directing, and "high-directive, low-supportive behavior."

It's a great model, and what I've given you is a two paragraph overview of something much more complex (and if you'd like to know more about it, email me, I'm happy to discuss) but it got me thinking:  isn't every successful interaction situational?  Aren't we always flexing ourselves to try and meet someone else where he or she is in the moment, or at least where we think he or she is at the moment?  (And if not, should we be?)

For an easy example, think about trying to figure out the best way to convince someone to see things your way.  You know you're short on time and you want to be most effective, so your two axes this time become "interaction preference" and "time":

If you're trying to convince an introvert with no time, you'd probably be more successful writing bullet points for him/her to read over than if you try to sit down and talk things through.  Similarly, if you've got an extravert with plenty of time, do it over lunch and chit chat about all the reasons it's a good idea.  An introvert with plenty of time could be given something to read or have a one-on-one discussion with time to process.  An extravert with no time might need a quick conversation outlining the major benefits.

I'm not saying this model (which I just invented) is backed with the kind of research Blanchard's is.  It's not.  And, hell, I'm willing to be wrong about what I've suggested would be successful.  But you can see my point:  how taking someone else's preferences into account can help you be more successful in whatever it is you're trying to accomplish.  However, it's making a pretty big assumption you know what the other person's preferences are.

Another example could be trying to teach adults -- do they want to absorb or do?  Do they have great knowledge or little?

Again, if I've got visual/auditory learners who know a lot, I can show them pictures and have a dialogue with them, whereas if I've got kinesthetic learners who don't know much, I need to give them an experience with whatever it is I want them to learn.

But again, I'm assuming I know what the other person's preferences are.  Where this starts to get a little wonky -- and yet, it still holds true that we flex ourselves in these situations -- is in dating.  The four-box in dating would be on the continuum of how much "he likes me" and "I like him."

If you're in the red box (he doesn't like me, I like him), you're going to behave very differently and treat him very differently than you would if you were in the orange box (he likes me, I don't like him).  The same thing is true if you're in the green box vs. the blue one.

The question here, though, is which box yields the most authentic behavior, and which one is the most "successful"?  Sadly, I have no suggestions for how to behave in each box of this "date-uational model."  I'm simply pointing out the fact that when there is something we want from another person, we're well-served to look for signs of where that person might be and try to meet him or her there.

So what can you do to try to meet someone where he or she is?  First observe their behavior and try to meet them where they are.  And, if you need to, ask questions.  (Though you may get mixed results with this one if you ask your date "where on the continuum from 'he doesn't like me' to 'he likes me' do you think you fall right now?")  Pay attention to the other person.  And be willing to admit that your approach is not the only one that works.

greater personal responsibility

Many of my clients tell me they want to own their lives.  The focus of this work varies -- some clients are trying to get clear on what they want, some are trying to identify and end bad patterns, and still others are trying to create new patterns that serve them better.  But the crux of it is the same: my clients are all taking greater personal responsibility for the way their lives are going.  (And I applaud them for that.)

The tricky thing about personal responsibility is that it's so easy to shirk.  What's your internal monologue when you misplace your keys?  When I do, the first thing I think is, "this can't be happening."  The second thing is, "did someone move my keys?"  Then I slide into "I can't believe I lost my keys -- what an idiot!" and then, "I'm going to be late if I don't find my keys.  I HAVE TO FIND MY KEYS!"  I never approach lost keys with the mindset of "yes, of course, I've misplaced my keys somewhere and will be able to find them in no time."

An interesting article by Christopher Avery uncovers a very typical thinking pattern when it comes to personal responsibility.  In his model, Avery points out that when we first face a problem, the brain's immediate reaction is to deny that the problem is even happening.  (My old roommate and I had a running quote board and the one that lasted the longest up there was "It's Ok, It's Not Happening.")

The next step in the process is to lay blame.  I think tons of people in the world just get stuck here and never move past it.

After blame comes justification.  If nobody else moved my keys, I must have put them in a safe place (and not their normal place).

After justification comes shame.  So many people get stuck feeling bad about the decisions they've made that they don't own up to having made them.  Shame gets its own cycle for many people, spinning them off into other, more distracting kinds of despair.

After shame, there are two choices -- you can either accept that the situation is what it is and that you are somehow obligated to move forward with it (gritting your teeth, of course), or you can run away and quit, dropping whatever it was you were doing in the first place.  (In the keys example, this might look like feeling like you have to leave the door unlocked because you couldn't find your keys, or deciding not to leave the house at all, thereby removing the need to find your keys.)

It is only by realizing that you have choice at every stage that you can move through the stages of the model into owning your responsibility.

There are three things that will help you live in a place of greater personal responsibility and move through all the phases between denial and responsibility more quickly -- having the intention of owning your shit, being aware of where you are and how you might be getting stuck in one of the stages in the model, and confronting yourself with reality by questioning the assumptions you are making.

Here's an example of how I put this into work.

I was in a training class at a hotel recently and over the break I needed to check out of my room.  I went to the room to pick up my suitcase, and the key didn't work.  My first thought was, "well, that's not right, the key's supposed to work," (denial) so I tried again.  Didn't work again.  Then I thought, "Oh, the front desk must have cancelled my key!" (blame) so I called them to get it fixed and I had to make the round trip to the front desk, adding to the time I was away from class.

On the way back to class, I really wanted a cup of coffee, but I knew I was going to be late.  I ran through all the reasons I could use to apologize for my delay -- the key, the front desk, how bad I felt about being late -- and I ran through what it would feel like to sit in the class without my coffee (obligation) and I decided that I would "own my shit."  I chose to have the coffee, even though it would make me late, and I wasn't going to blame anyone, justify my lateness, or even feel bad about it.  I was at choice, I was aware, and I was willing to take ownership if need be.

In this world it's easy to be hard on ourselves for the mistakes we make.  Especially when we feel we should know better.  But to truly own your personal responsibility for your life, you have to see that mistakes aren't inherently bad.  That the world is not black and white.  And that there are going to be times you do things that would be easier to blame or justify away.  The benefit to personal ownership, in my opinion, is the feeling of freedom and choice that comes along with it.  Saying, "I did this.  I chose to do it.  And maybe it's not perfect, but it's what I did."

why I love yoga

There are about 100 reasons I love yoga.  These are the top ten:

1.  Yoga clothes.  Stretchy, comfy, non-binding, mildly-flattering.  Say no more.

2.  Awesome pose names.  When my sister and I were little, we used to make up words by putting syllables together and saying them confidently, as if they were words.  Our best combos?  Plib-doo, snib-wad, dil-do.  Yoga brings me back to my childhood roots, with words like hanumanasana, eka pada rajakapotasana and dwi pada viparita dandasana (Upward Facing Two-Foot Staff Pose, if you must know.)

3.  Being with myself.  It's an hour and a half where I don't have to think about anything but whether my foot is in alignment with my knee.  Or if the stretch in my shoulder feels good or not.

4.  Having a bodily sense of humor.  I've been lucky to have yoga instructors who are not serious downers.  They've all been very gentle, friendly, easy women (hey! not that kind of easy!) who take their own practice with a grain of salt, and encourage us to take ours that way.

5.  Connecting with Lisa.  She's my yoga buddy.  Going without her feels different.  Not bad different, but I like it better when she's there.

6.  Dedicating my practice to something.  My instructor encourages us to take a moment at the beginning of class to pick something to dedicate the next 90 minutes to.  I don't know if I'm supposed to think about my dedication for the next 90 minutes (I rarely do), but I like the idea that the universe is responding to my issue -- kind of like the Prayers for the People that we did growing up in the Episcopal church.  But way less Jesus-y.  I've dedicated my practice to forgiveness, to Lisa, to my future boyfriend, wheresoever he is...

7.  Did I mention the yoga clothes?  I've lost my ability to dress like a professional.

8.  Savasana.  Corpse pose.  Basically, laying on the floor, dead-like for 10-15 minutes.  Letting thoughts come and go.  Wrapped in a blanket, rewarding myself for taking the time for myself.

9.  Using my mat.  I've had it for a hundred years and only recently started using it.  Now I feel better about the space it takes up in my apartment.

10.  Being done with yoga.  There's this nice, rubber noodle feeling afterwards.  Like I'm in a warm broth of happiness, relaxation, and peace.  And what am I wearing?  Yoga clothes.  Say no more.