Showing posts with label persistence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label persistence. Show all posts

Thursday, December 13, 2012

thinking of next year's goal... now

As we reach the end of the year, it's easy to get torn between two extremes:  at one end are the parties, the wine, the food, the time off, the butternut squash lasagna, the flaky-cakey-whatever-that-was-last-night-at-the-company-party.  At the other?  The goals we set on January first about how draconian and austere we're going to be in 2013, probably to remedy all the things we've wonked up during the holiday season. 
There has to be a better way, right? 

The key to staying focused on the long-term picture without feeling denied during such a festive time of year is all about moderation. 

Now I am not the poster child for moderation.  When something feels good, I'm like my friend's dog who, when let off the leash, will undoubtedly be found near the garbage -- not eating it, but just happily rolling around in it.  Wallowing, if you will.  It's easy to feel like the cheer that is spread at this time of year isn't going to last.  That there will never be another party, or that you just have to see one more group of people or you won't be invited back next year.  Strange:  the abundance of cheer can make us fear its lack. 
I'm not suggesting that you stay home and miserable during the holidays.  In fact, I'm not even suggesting you refrain from eating that flaky-cakey-whatever-that-was-last-night-at-the-company-party (because, damn! that was tasty!).  But do you need that AND a sugar cookie?  Do you need two glasses of wine AND a martini?  Do you need to stay out until 2am Tuesday AND Wednesday?

If the answer is yes, then by all means, do it.  But wherever and whenever the answer is no, take a moment to remember what you really want from your life.  Remember to take care of yourself.  And remember that the difference between this week and the first week of the year is just an arbitrary distinction you're making. 

If you want that goal, why not start now?

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

give yourself permission for your passion

So many of my clients are incredibly creative.  They have great ideas, spend time thinking about them, planning for them, and dreaming about executing them, but when it comes time to actually make it happen, something always gets in the way. 

I work with dancers, writers, musicians, actors, directors, mothers, teachers, strategists, lawyers, business people, you name it.  I believe creativity is not a what, it's a how.  It's not the content of your job, it's how you execute it.  It's not the title that you have, it's the passion you bring to everything you do (and not just work).

So, given that I work with such fabulously imaginative people, why aren't they all -- and why aren't we all, every one of us -- totally fulfilled, living out our dreams?  Because when it comes time to do something about our dreams, there is very often a voice that says "it's not good enough" or "I don't deserve it."

To that voice I say (fairly unceremoniously), "I appreciate that you're trying to protect me, but now if you wouldn't mind, please shutthefuckupthankyouverymuch."

There is no permission slip for passion.  There is no rule that says you have to be accepted for what you do.  Think about the books you remember -- not all of them are the greatest books you've ever read.  In fact, some are the absolute crappiest books you've read, which is why you remember them. 

One of my favorite creative geniuses, Ira Glass, has been famously quoted as saying, "All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”


Give yourself permission to write your stories, sing your songs, dance your dances, and dream your dreams.  If you don't, who will?

Thursday, November 17, 2011

farming vs. mining

Many moons ago, my cousin Brian pointed me to a really interesting blog post that inspired me. The premise is that you've bought a plot of land and have two choices -- you can farm that land, or you can mine it. Which do you do?

"If you farm," says author Wil Shipley, "you’ll have to purchase seed up-front, and work on it for a season before you see any profits. And every season you’ll plow most the profits (literally) back into the land and salaries and your mortgage. You husband the soil to ensure that it’ll keep providing for you for years and years. If you’re lucky, and if you do a good job, you’ll gather a following, sales will increase, and eventually you may make a tidy living. But every season, no matter how rich you get, you’re going to be back out there, breaking your back and working with the soil. When you finally retire, if you’ve done a good job, the soil is as good as when you first got it, and your farm will live on."

"Or," he continues, "you could mine; you’ll need some initial money to lease mining equipment, and to hire some people to work the mine. Then, bam: profit. You’re making money. You tear a giant hole in the ground and eke every last bit of metal out as quickly as possible; there’s nothing to preserve, there’s no soil to keep in condition. You’ll make a big score, then the land will be spent, and you move on, leaving an unusable crater."

He then goes on to parallel this analogy with starting a software company, which I won't go into, but it really applies to how you want to live your life on a broad basis. Are you willing to invest a part of yourself in your development on a regular basis, or do you want to get in, get out, and get emptied?

Some people are naturally long-term focused, and so for them, farming may come easier. Knowing that it's in their best self-interest may make eating healthy easier to do. Believing that insight will follow a week with no television may make it easier to bear the silence. But for people who are short term focused -- or even long-term focusers who are frustrated by their current situations -- mining may feel more rewarding.

And is there a way to combine both? Can you mine part of the land and farm others? Life is not black and white, it's much more of a continuum. And if you aim to land in farming more often than in mining, I think it's a winning proposition. Because the image of that "unusable crater" is pretty haunting.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Book Review: One Small Step can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way

The idea is big, but Robert Maurer’s book is quite small. “Kaizen” is Japanese for “improvement,” and it’s the philosophy that taking small steps is the best way to make continual improvement.


Or as I once told a client, “Baby steps only go forwards.”


Think of the last time you set out to make a major change. What did you feel? Exhilaration? Exhaustion? Excitement? Trepidation? Most people, when faced with change, will feel at least some element of fear. And very often that fear can get in the way of actually making the change. The idea of kaizen is to take make such small changes that your brain doesn’t even know you’re changing, and therefore, doesn’t get in the way.


It’s kind of genius.


There are six strategies in Maurer’s book:


1. Asking small questions


2. Thinking small thoughts


3. Taking small actions


4. Solving small problems


5. Giving small rewards


6. Recognizing small moments


Let’s take a quick look at each of these.


1. Asking small questions


Your brain loves questions. Just look at how many people are drawn to crosswords and Sudoku and jigsaw puzzles. But instead of overwhelming yourself with big questions (“How can I lose 25 pounds?” “How will I ever get a job in this economy?”) focus on the small questions instead (“If health were my first priority, what would I do differently today?” “What little step could I take today towards my ideal job?”).


Watch out, though, for negative questions. We get more of what we focus on, so if you’re tempted to ask yourself “Why does this always happen to me?” or “What’s wrong with me?” your brain will be delighted to work on those questions, too. In a judgmental, awful, negative way.


2. Thinking small thoughts


This is all about visualization, or what Maurer calls “mind sculpture.” Mentally practice a task using all five of your senses, and you are much more likely to develop the skills it takes to actually engage in that task in the real world. But this isn’t about 30 minutes of meditation on a task. It’s about how many seconds a day you’re willing to devote to the effort. The idea is to make it simple, habitual, and fun. And nobody can say they don’t have an extra 45 seconds a day, right?


3. Taking small actions


If you want to clean your house, you can go into the most awful room and start trying to rid it of its clutter, but for some of us, that’s just too big an idea. And so we avoid it. Instead, if you clean your house the kaizen way, it becomes about going into that room and cleaning up for five minutes. Or removing five pieces of clutter every day. Big, bold actions often get us initial results, but don’t take into account things like lack of time, exhaustion, fear, or resistance. The smaller steps get us to the goal because they can be so easily incorporated into daily life.


Here are some suggestions for small actions you can take:



If you want to stop overspending, remove one item from your cart before checking out.


If you want to start exercising, go – just go – to the gym three times a week.


If you want to get more sleep, go to sleep one minute earlier or sleep one minute later each day.


They may not seem like much, but for anyone who is really resistant to change, these are cracks of light in an otherwise dark room.

4. Solving small problems


The key to solving small problems is catching them when they’re still small. And if you miss that window, the trick is to solve small problems in the face of really large problems. Some of this step involves trusting your gut and listening to what your instincts tell you about things – so you can prevent small problems from becoming bigger ones. Maurer has a great exercise for helping to spot the warning signs.


5. Give small rewards


Small rewards serve us best as recognition of a job well done. They can be little treats and pleasures, or simply a verbal acknowledgement of taking the small action you set out to take. A few key things to remember:



The reward should be appropriate to the goal – that is, don’t reward yourself with chocolate if your goal is to lose weight


The reward should be appropriate to the person – I, for example, would not particularly enjoy the reward of watching a football game and drinking a beer as a reward for a day of hard work, but I know plenty of people who would.


The reward should be free or inexpensive – if not, rewarding yourself for all your small steps could become a financial burden, which would subvert the whole kaizen
process.


6. Recognizing small moments

This is all about paying attention to what’s going on around you and what opportunities for change naturally arise. A couple of the examples Maurer shares are:



A flight attendant noticed that passengers weren’t eating the olives in their five-item
salads. A the time, five-item salads cost far more than four-item salads. When the fifth item (olives) was dropped from the salad, the company saved half a million dollars a year.


George de Mestral, a Swiss engineer, noticed that when he took his dog out for a walk, the dog came back covered in burrs. His attention to this small moment led to the invention of Velcro.


Having this curiosity and awareness about life allowed the opportunities for innovation and enhancement to present themselves. Combining these six steps yields a very powerful philosophy, especially for anyone who has ever been afraid, stressed, or overwhelmed by change.

And because the book is so little (and only took me a day to read), it’s the perfect first small step!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

The Marathon Project

So, it's fall in NYC, and there are boatloads of runners out there training for the marathon. They're fit, athletic, don't bounce in a lot of the same places I bounce, and in general, they look like they enjoy sweating. Part of me envies them. The other part is exhausted just thinking about it.

But they've inspired me, and in an effort to be even remotely like them, I've decided to prep for a marathon, too. Except mine doesn't involve running (or really, sweating in any way). Instead, it's a coaching marathon. So like those runners, I have a goal -- I am offering 26.2 hours of pro bono life coaching before November 6th. But unlike those runners, I don't have to get up off the couch. (Phew!)

That said, I'm looking for someone running the marathon for charity who wants to partner with me. Because instead of paying me for these 26.2 hours of coaching, my “marathon clients” will donate to the charity of a runner partner. (That's right, I have a conscience!)

All I ask for in exchange is that my runner help me publicize my coaching marathon.

Benefits to the runner include:

1. Free money! Whoever I find to coach on my own will be a donation to the runner's charity that the runner doesn't have to work for.

2. A bonus to prospective donors! The runner can offer my services as a benefit of donating, or as an enticement to donate.

3. Free publicity! Working together spreads the word, both about the coaching and the charity.

4. Free life coaching! The runner could be one of the 26.2 hours of coaching and can get help with something in his/her life (that isn’t necessarily the marathon -- though as November 6th gets closer, what else is there, really?).

5. Free PR! I know someone at the NYRR, so there’s a chance the story could get picked up.

While my runner is pounding the pavement, I will be helping people get unstuck and find new ways to make the most out of their lives. Not too shabby, eh?

My ideal partner in this project is someone who would make the most of working together – helping me to spread the word and introducing me to people who are interested in or curious about coaching.

Is that runner you? Is it your brother/sister/mother/cousin/milkman/coworker/dogwalker/cable guy? Because without a runner, the project can't go forward -- and if you're interested in getting some coaching for a tax-deductible donation to a good cause, you need a runner just as badly as I do.

So, if you're interested, or know someone else who might be, please contact me right away!

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

playing the end of the game before it's over

Watch out! I'm about to use a sports analogy. (Yes, you are at the right blog.)

I've been enjoying some World Cup games recently, and last week there was a match that reminded me of, well, life.

In final moments of the Ghana vs. Uruguay game (before penalty kicks) there was a melee in the Uruguayan goal -- a shot on goal, blocked by the goalie, then a rebound shot, blocked by a defender, and then a third rebound, blocked by a Uruguayan handball, which, for those of you as unsportsly as I am, is totally illegal -- I mean, so illegal that the guy who had the handball got kicked out of the game and would not be allowed to play again in the tournament.

So, while he blocked a goal, he was mortified because he earned Ghana a free penalty kick, AND he lost his right to keep playing.

As he walked off the field, you could see how sick he felt, knowing he had just handed the game over to Ghana.

However, things didn't go so well for Ghana on that kick. The ball hit the crossbar at the top of the goal and flew out of bounds, leading the game into a shoot out, which, in the end was won by Uruguay.

The best moment captured on video, in my opinion, is of the player who was kicked out of the game (and it almost looks like he's been kicked out of the stadium) for a move that in his mind lost them the game, when, in fact, it didn't.

The plain truth is, whether in soccer or relationships or job interviews or auditions or family gatherings or asking for a raise or taking a risk, whatever the situation, you never know how it's going to end until it ends. And there's absolutely no value to beating yourself up for something you've done "wrong" because the game you're playing may be much bigger than the one you seem to be playing.

For example, this is only one game in that Uruguayan player's career. Maybe it sends him to the bottom of the soccer heap, and maybe it starts him on a road to stardom. Who knows? What we do know is that the game did not end the way he thought it would.

And the chances are good that yours won't either.

Friday, June 4, 2010

ooooh, what a little persistence will doooooo....

So here's a little story about Sticking With It (Even Though You Think It's Going To Fail).

I was recently doing some research into graduate psychology programs and discovered that most of them require some form of undergraduate statistics. Now, I haven't studied stats since high school, so if I were interested in pursuing a masters in psychology (which I'm not sure I am, but stick with me on this) I'd have to go back to college and take undergrad statistics.

Ok, fine. Then I got to thinking about application deadlines and stuff. If, I told myself, I want to be able to consider grad school in the winter of 2011, I'd have to take stats... this summer! Otherwise, I'll have to take stats in the fall and apply in the spring for a fall of 2011 admission.

So I dragged my heels a bit, thinking:
  • commencement just happened
  • the summer session can't be starting just yet
  • I probably have a week or two to get it together
  • I'm not really sure I want to go to grad school anyway
  • I'll look into it later
  • etc.
After inspirational conversations with my coach and my mother, however, I decided I would just start investigating it now, just in case.

And when I called the registrar's office at Hunter, I discovered that the application deadline was... TOMORROW.

(This is where the persistence part kicks in.)

The registrar needs a copy of my transcript. (I haven't seen my transcript for 12 years.) I know there's a copy of it in my files at my parents' house so I call home to see if Dad can locate it in the attic. Twenty minutes of looking later, he can't, and I'm ready to give up.

"Kate, I'll go to New Haven to pick up a new copy for you, if you need me to."

Hope comes back. I call Yale for a transcript and they say that I should place the order, but they can't guarantee that it'll be ready by tomorrow. Hope fades again.

"Kate, you're willing to pay Hunter money, they'll probably find a way to accept it."

Hope comes back. I call them and find out the procedure -- they need a filled-out application, registration fee, and transcript before 3pm the next day. Hope fades. Until... I discover on their website that they'll accept a copy of my diploma. Which I know my mother can locate for me!

Hope returns, and I try to register for class and can't. Hope departs.

"Try going to the Registrar's office."

Hope returns, and I can register, but only with permission of the math department, who wants proof that I've taken math before -- and might require me to take a placement test. Hope skedaddles faster than a bug on fire.

But I persist, hope clinging to the edge of me like I'm a canyon. The math department? All they want is for me to tell them my AB Calc grade from nineteen mumbledy mumble.

This back and forth goes on and on, with hurdles and hoops and obstacles at every step of the way, and hope coming and going like junkies on a seesaw. Truth is, if it weren't for the moral support of my parents and my coach, I'd have quit before I even started.

My point in all of this is that it worked out in the end. The obstacles that seemed so looming and permanent were actually made of sawdust -- but I didn't know that until I blew on them. It took grit, a couple of lunch hours, asking for help from people I knew I could count on, and the willingness to persist in the face of adversity.

Needless to say, I'm 1/6 of the way through the course already. What are the odds of that?