My Own Worst Enemy

As I've mentioned before, learning is like a spiral.  I keep encountering the same issues over and over again, but I usually get to approach them from a slightly new perspective.  This week, it was the idea of asking for what I want (which seems to have been on my mind about a year ago as well).  The challenge hasn't been in knowing what I want or how to articulate it.  Rather, I have this sense that people who are bold about stating what they want are jerks, to put it mildly.

Actually, that's not entirely true.  I respect people who state what they want clearly, and I appreciate knowing what matters to someone.  The option is to play guessing games, and that often winds up just being an exercise in frustration.  So really, my belief about stating what I want is that people are going to think that I am a jerk.  So, it's more about vulnerability and opening myself up to other people's judgment.  And if I'm honest about it, this means I often fear that other people will be a threat to getting what I want rather than a boon.  When I think about it intellectually, this is a silly fear, but it's still a fear.

So, even though I appreciate it when people are clear about what they want, the prospect of clearly expressing what I want has been intimidating.  The way I often perceive it, stating what I want puts me at other people's mercy.  Other people can determine whether I deserve what I want or not, and they get to decide whether they are going to help or hinder.  Of course, the irrational fear is that people are more likely to choose to hinder me than help me.  So, when I state what I want, I have to be strong about it.  Defiant even.  No wonder I'm afraid of coming across like a jerk.

But I don't want to come across as being a jerk, so I just keep my mouth shut about what I actually want and complain under my breath about not getting it.  When I really think about it, there are other options.  Stating what I want doesn't place any responsibility on someone else to make sure I get it.  Creating what I want is still up to me, and being clear about it can make all sorts of decisions easier.  Other people can play a part in that creation, but the responsibility for making what I want important is mine and mine alone.  While a few people have chosen to put obstacles in my path from time to time, others have been invaluable.  And although I don't know this, I suspect that the people who chose to make a situation more difficult than it could have been probably would have done so whether or not they knew what I wanted.

The best way for me to get what I want is to ask for it and trust in my ability to create it.  In personal relationships, this looks like what some people would call defining the relationship, being willing to say what I want clearly and being willing to listen to what the other person wants.  With the music I compose, it means creating without second guessing my vision for a piece, and diligently building relationships with performers so that the music can be heard.  Being honest with myself about what I really want in any given situation might mean setting the bar fairly high.  Personally, I would rather reap the benefits of dedication to a high standard than spend time complaining about not getting what I want.

Expert Opinions

In a recent discussion among a group of professional musicians and artists, I was stuck by the comment, We're all experts at something...  It would probably be an accurate statement in any group, but it's quite different from a phrase often used by one of the leaders in another group with which I worked: None of us here is an expert...  I think these two very different perspectives open up possibilities for very different results.

The word "expert" has actually become suspiciously uninformative.  According to Tim Ferris, you can legitimately call yourself an expert if you've read the three top-selling books on a topic.  Perhaps in some situations that's enough, but it isn't always sufficient for me to trust my knowledge of a subject.  I am much more confident claiming to be an expert in the field of music, because I've been doing that for over 30 years.  I guess from my perspective, experience has something to do with the definition of an expert.  There are a few other niches that I feel qualified to call myself an expert as well, but there are also other people from whom I could learn a thing or two.  Even within the broad field of music, there are areas that I don't consider myself expert, like playing bassoon or crafting a violin.  So whether one is legitimately qualified as an expert sometimes depends on the context as well.

For someone to state, "None of us is an expert here," is intended to open up creative and full participation from everyone present.  If no one is an expert, then everyone's opinion is equally valid.  If no one is an expert, then no one can pass judgment on the ideas that are shared.  But if no one is an expert, then everything shared becomes reduced to opinion and decisions get made based on the most powerful personalities rather than the most accurate data.  If no one is an expert, then it actually devalues the collective experiences of the group. This is a great way to preserve the status quo, but not a great way to move forward and grow.

"We are all experts at something," is equally intended to encourage creative and full participation from everyone present, except with a bit more wisdom and insight thrown into the mix.  It begs the question, "What is my area of expertise?  What do I know more about than most people here?"  It means that everyone has something to offer, but it also means that everyone has something to learn.  You are an expert at something, and everyone else here is an expert at something.  No one is better than anyone else in that case.  Everyone simply has something different to bring to the table.

I'm not trying to hide which perspective I respect more.  The most productive, honest, and healthy situation I can imagine for a group is one in which everyone's expertise is acknowledged and valued.  In assembling a group for a special project, it makes sense to bring together people that have different pockets of expertise that are important to the task.  This is obviously more valuable than just a group of willing people without a clue. 

The trick is recognizing one's own strengths and weaknesses and being willing to bring both forward.  Some people don't want to bring their strengths to the foreground because they want to be modest or humble, or they think that their ideas will be shot down, or they doubt the value of their own experience.  Others live under the impression that they don't actually have any weaknesses, that there is nothing they need to learn and no task that someone else could do better.  Both are equally dysfunctional.  As the philosopher admonished, "Know thyself."  A wise person is willing to fully claim their expertise and fully accept the expertise of others.  And a group of people with that attitude in place could do something truly remarkable.  

Being Wrong

At one point, I worked with an organization whose members endeavored not to make other people wrong. It was an actual agreement among the leadership of the organization, but it was also a practice encouraged among its members. Not making other people wrong may seem like an awkward turn of phrase, but it essentially means accepting the validity of someone else's feelings and perspectives without insisting on being right. When we get into a right and wrong mindset, it is usually ourselves we would prefer to be right and the other person we'd prefer be wrong, so agreeing not to make another person wrong is a way of saying, "I don't need to be right. I'm open to other perspectives and ideas."

The intent, of course, was to encourage creativity and out-of-the-box thinking, as well as receptivity and open-mindedness.  If I won't be criticized for what I say because no one going to make me wrong, then I'll be a lot more likely to contribute my ideas. The problem is that sometimes people are wrong.  Sometimes, people have faulty or incomplete information, and sometimes people draw erroneous conclusions from the information they have.  There are people and groups that continue banging their heads against proverbial walls because no one tells them that they're not looking at useful or accurate data. 

Now, you may conclude that there is a way to indicate that data is inaccurate or incomplete without insisting that an individual is "wrong".  That may have been the whole point of the agreement not to make other people wrong.  But when a person is on the receiving end of that communication, it can be pretty easy for our minds to translate even well-thought-out criticism as, "I'm wrong".  On top of that, one can spend so much effort verbally distinguishing a belief from the believer that any real meaning is lost. 

Of course, belief is the whole issue.  Once I look at a set of numbers and draw a conclusion, that conclusion quickly becomes a belief of mine, whether it's accurate or not.  Challenging someone's beliefs is a big deal.  It's understandable why a person would feel attacked when personal beliefs are on the line.  As you might imagine, many discussions degenerated into whether or not someone had made someone else wrong and never really got back to meaningful topics.  Sometimes everyone just drew different conclusions, and there was no way to reconcile them all into one perspective.  Even when you know that someone's information is inaccurate, if you don't want to be accused of making them wrong, you have to come up with just the right way to convince them to reexamine what they believe without having the tables turned back on your own beliefs. 

The result of that seemingly noble agreement was that everyone's ideas and perspectives were not equally considered, and everyone's conclusions were not equally scrutinized.  Nor should they have been necessarily, except that the claimed framework for interaction suggested otherwise. Just having a policy of honesty and maintaining an open forum where being wrong was OK would have been much easier and, I think, more effective.

I am sometimes wrong.  Everyone I know is sometimes wrong.  We get information and draw conclusions.  When we get more information, we confirm or adjust those conclusions.  We're doing this constantly.  There's no way that anyone can go through life without believing something that's a little bit off at some point.  The challenge for me is not to avoid making other people wrong; it's to be willing to accept when I am wrong about something.  It's not the end of the world.  If it's a big deal not to make someone else wrong, that becomes a threatening situation.  If someone suggests that I'm wrong, I have to defend myself because they're out of line?  Not really.  If we never figure out where we are wrong in our conclusions, we can never improve anything, unless it's sheer luck.  

There isn't necessarily a right and wrong in every situation, and some people will point out a perceived mistake when they don't have accurate information themselves.  Sometimes, there is absolutely a gentle way to let someone else know that they've jumped to a conclusion that doesn't quite make sense, and I'm all in favor of providing more useful data to someone if they're willing to hear.  I think words spoken in love will always be easier to hear.  But the biggest thing is not being afraid to be wrong.  It will happen.  Best to have trustworthy people around you who will send up the red flags rather than perform semantic acrobatics.  

Still Reflection on Troubled Waters

An accompanying job in one of my old stomping grounds has stirred up memories of a challenging situation.  While I'm not one to wallow in regret or rehash the past over and over again in my mind, I do occasionally consider what I could have done differently in a given situation, so that I might learn something valuable even if an experience didn't play out the way I would have preferred.  As I played through this particular sequence of events from my past, I came upon a startling realization.  Although I made conscious efforts to "not make the situation worse," there is very little I could have done to change the outcome.  It would have been more authentic, and perhaps had a greater positive impact on some of the people involved, for me to simply speak directly and honestly without going overboard on efforts to be diplomatic or polite.

As concise as I can be while still painting a more or less complete picture, here is the story.  I fired someone.  Actually, I eliminated their position.  I did so as gently as I could, and I offered another possibility for the person to be involved and continue to earn an income.  This individual was essentially getting paid for doing the same thing that several other people did as volunteers.  It was a bit of an ethical disconnect for one person to get paid to do something that other people did for free, and the budget wouldn't allow me to pay everyone I would have liked to pay.  However, I needed someone to do a different task, a more unique task that I could practically and ethically justify paying someone to do.  It seemed like a perfect fit to me.

Not so for the individual in question.  The position for which I wanted to pay someone was not desirable to this person, so when I stopped paying for her participation, she stopped participating.  I found someone else to fill the paid position and went on with my job.  It was, after all, nothing personal.  When I heard about another paying opportunity for which she was quite qualified, I passed it along, but she wasn't interested in that either. Instead, she started a whisper campaign to get me removed from my position.

One person who was sympathetic to her point of view happened to be the board chairperson, and this position held more power than any salaried position in the organization.  The chairperson already had some significant differences of opinion with me about the organizational structure.  I believed that the paid staff had been hired because of our expertise in our areas of focus, and that the volunteer board existed to guide and support the vision of the organization, spearheaded by staff leadership.  The chairperson believed that the staff were hired help who were expected to follow the orders of the board, lack of expertise or leadership notwithstanding.  This distinction was never clearly communicated to me, so I continued to operate under my own perceptions.

I knew that there were communication issues.  I knew that the board was slow to make decisions, and that many of those decisions were based on fear rather than vision.  I knew that there were rumblings going on behind the scenes and in the shadows.  In other words, I knew this organization to be like most other organizations.  So, I offered leadership from my position to support the stated purpose of the organization, not realizing that leadership was not really what was expected of me.

Eventually, ten months after these events began, it was suggested that I resign.  I did so, and they ushered me out as quickly as possible, with a polite reception and a plaque.  I received the plaque graciously and told everyone how wonderful it had been to be a part of their "family" during my time there, and I left it at that.  In the moment, I thought there was no reason to bring up any of the misguided or dysfunctional actions that led to my departure, since really there were only a couple of angry people with personal agendas that created a toxic environment.

Now, looking back at that situation, I realize that nothing I would have said could have made matters worse.  I'm sure there are things that someone could say or do that would have exacerbated things, but there was no reason for me not to be direct and honest with the people involved.  My situation would have been no different, and (although I doubt anything coming from me would have been received) they just might have heard something that no one else was willing to tell them.  Instead, I gave up and let them have their dysfunction, and in the process I didn't trust myself to be able to confront them with loving honesty.

Sometimes, being adept at self-deception leads us to the illusion that we are also effectively deceiving everyone around us.  I want to be the kind of person who will tell someone, "What you are doing doesn't line up with what you claim to believe."  Not out of spitefulness or malice, but simply because there is really nothing to be lost on my end and everything to be gained on the other end.  If I could go back and observe, "It must be frustrating to constantly be at the center of upheaval and turmoil," I wouldn't have been telling the chairperson anything astounding, but it would have conveyed that I saw the pattern of his involvement in one organization after another. 

Of course, I cannot go back and have any impact on that organization.  That time has passed, and I have moved on to other endeavors.  But I will continue to interact with people for the rest of my life, and I want to take as much as I can from my life's experiences, the ones I absolutely love as well as the ones that are frustrating as hell.  From that chapter, I can glean (among other things) that there isn't that much to be gained by me trying to "not make a situation worse."  I can trust my own authentic baseline of tactful diplomacy, honest care, and incisive discernment without adding anything to it.  It may not change the outcome in the least, but it will change how I am with myself, and that is ultimately worth more than anything.

Angry People

Not long ago, I had occasion to hear someone tell a story about how things had unraveled after an angry rant was blown out of proportion. He was able to indicate how everyone else involved had reacted poorly to the situation, but seemed unaware of his own part in things. Being the person that I am, I tried to point out that his way of expressing anger could be something to look at as well. That piece of insight was not very well received.

In fact, when this fellow’s anger was focused on me, I found it easy to get hooked by it. It was a bit of a challenge to maintain my composure, which is a testament to how powerful an impact it has when we turn our anger on another individual. When I realized that I was getting riled up myself, I chose to remove myself from the situation. It’s my practice to handle my anger privately, since I know that I can say some pretty harsh things when I am angry – things I don’t really mean, which are intended only to be hurtful. I want to manage my anger in such a way that I can engage with people in a thoughtful and purposeful way.

There are plenty of ways to defuse angry people, but when I am in the midst of anger myself, I honestly don't feel like it.  I don't always want to get to the heart of what is really bothering or scaring someone who is unleashing their anger on me.  Sometimes, I just want don't care enough to take the verbal assault.

To this particular individual, my withdrawal looked like “running away and not playing anymore.” And that was true, in part. I didn’t actually want to play a game of one-upmanship with angry words. His claim was that I would keep encountering angry people in my life until I learned the lesson they had for me. In that moment, I think he knew what that lesson was supposed to be. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and I realize that I have learned a thing or two about anger.

Anger is useful. Anger is good. Anger is a legitimate emotion. As Julia Cameron says, “It is meant to be acted upon, not acted out.” Anger can direct us toward meaningful work in our lives. It can also be expressed in a way that separates us from others. Listening to anger can help determine what actions one wants to take in life. This is different from imposing anger on others.  You can listen to your anger, but other people don't necessarily want to.

What I have learned from engaging with angry people is that it often isn't worthwhile to me to spend time and energy supporting someone who doesn't want support. When someone is in the middle of expressing anger, there isn’t a lot of room for another person’s insight or challenge. And I don’t have to engage in another person’s anger any more than I want to. Not only can I choose the partnerships that have meaningful value in my life, I can manage my anger in such a way that I bring my very best to those partnerships.

I know of organizations that have experienced great turmoil because a few people were unable to manage their anger or express it in a meaningful way. So, I don’t mean to suggest that anger should go unacknowledged. If one is unwilling to see the fear that is underneath the anger, however, festering anger can be devastating to many people. Expressing anger publicly is a way to gain power and get one’s way without much of a challenge. Managing one’s anger privately and bringing some practical suggestions forward publicly can be transformational on many levels.

It’s true that I have learned lessons from the angry people I have encountered. Not least of which, I’ve been able to make some choices about how I want to handle my own anger. But I may keep encountering angry people nonetheless, no matter how many lessons I have learned. Maybe they have something to learn from me, too.

Speaking of Truth

Bold support is a term that gets used among a certain group of people I know. I use it occasionally, depending on the context, but I've started using a different term for it recently. Different people have different definitions of "bold support," so sometimes it can be a challenge to know exactly what people mean when they use the term. Some people think it means to tell people something they don't want to hear. A few people have described bold support as getting in someone's face and being confrontational. I don't necessarily want to practice either of those definitions, so I have turned to an older phrase for the same action: "speaking the truth in love."

The phrase appears in a religious text, but it doesn't really have anything to do with spiritual beliefs. Rather, "speaking the truth in love" is a way of engaging with other human beings that is at once bold and supportive, while maintaining a deep connection. Some people are good at speaking the truth. They may do so for any number of reasons. It isn't actually hard to say honest things if you don't care what anybody else thinks. The problem is that the truth can be presented in such a harsh manner that it is impossible to hear.

Some people are much better at saying loving things. They know exactly how to encourage, uplift, commiserate, console, and compliment. Sometimes there's an ulterior motive, and sometimes people are just trying to be nice. The issue with just saying loving things is that they are shallow without being rooted in actual truth. I'm sure you can think of a dozen useless loving things to say to someone who didn't get a promotion or reached the end of a relationship. It doesn't really support another person to give dishonest compliments or glib encouragement, no matter how good it may feel in the moment.

Of course, some people's words of "bold support" are neither truthful or loving. They wind up being opinions expressed as facts for the sake of telling someone else how they ought to be. Truth has an actual meaning beyond what any individual thinks. Our creative minds can invent all sorts of conclusions from the minutest details, but truth is really about the verifiable data one has. Sorting this from all of the opinions and beliefs we create ourselves can sometimes be a challenge.

For me, "speaking the truth in love" captures what I want my bold support to look like. I think the phrase is also less subject to interpretation if someone really thinks about the concept. I've seen it at work this week, and I've noticed how much I feel at home with that level of connection. I've been envisioning a world where people practice speaking the truth in love more frequently. I thought you might be interested in getting in on that action.

Lessons in Partnership

Some significant experiences this week have centered around leadership and partnership for me. In general, I have been forging ahead on the things that are important to me, accomplishing meaningful goals, and soliciting feedback from others. It's been rather different from waiting for feedback or approval before I take a step, and I am finding it to be invigorating and fun. Here, briefly, are a few brief situations and what I have been getting from them.

Charging Ahead. One person this week asked whether I was just charging ahead and doing my own thing rather than accepting partnership from others within a group. My first impulse was to be defensive, but it didn't take much to see that this person was expressing a desire to be a part of what I was planning. I was giving people something to notice by being proactive. And I was very much wanting that kind of partnership to surface, so it was easy to receive.
The activity of moving forward toward your vision attracts capable partnership more than inspiring words alone.

The Critic. I showed a project to a friend this week, and his feedback was initially enthusiastic. As he continued, he became a bit reserved and was hesitant to say something critical about what I had created. In the end, he was able to provide some great constructive observations that will help me continue to improve upon things. His critique was oriented toward building up what I was doing, rather than tearing it down, and that contribution is incredibly valuable.
When you share what you are creating with others, their perspective can provide fuel to carry you forward in your endeavors.

History Lesson. In a conversation about future plans for an organization, some historical data was brought up. Instead of treating it as "the way things must be done," the discussion was geared more toward the question of what has worked well in the past and what hasn't. There was a great deal of honesty in that perspective, and knowing the history of a group or situation can help make decisions wisely. Historical data becomes detrimental when we ignore it or blindly adhere to it.
Know your history... create your future.

My own self-criticism is that these little vignettes are a way of avoiding getting something deep from the experiences, but I truly have found value in realizing how vital it is to take action while embracing partnership. And I am now on the lookout for more opportunities to partner with capable co-creators, insightful critics, and those who have gone before me to create the foundation where I stand. My path is my own, but the journey is made richer by appreciating a wealth of fellow travelers.

Knowing

What I have learned or read doesn't always make a smooth transition into what I do. Even when I understand something intellectually, applying that understanding sometimes takes effort. I'm thinking about this because of a conversation I had a few days ago. The other person was agreeing with me, and then saying something completely different. I got nods and verbal statements like "Right" and "I agree." Then the next thing I heard sounded like the opposite of what I had said. And I honestly believe that this person thought we were in agreement.

I was frustrated. I ended the conversation for the time and resolved to figure out a better way to explain or demonstrate what I was thinking before we talked again. The next day, it struck me. I already know very specific and valuable communication tools that would have been ideal for that exact situation. Why didn't I use them? Was I too bowled over with disbelief that someone would say "I agree" and then disagree? I don't subscribe to the notion that on some level I didn't really want to be heard, and I'm certainly capable. I simply didn't apply what I knew in that situation.

Something very similar happened yesterday when I was introduced to someone. When asked what I do, it didn't even occur to me in that moment to say the well-rehearsed elevator pitch I've been honing. What I said may have been good enough to get the point across, but the bold and succinct elevator pitch was really perfect for that situation. Why didn't it just roll off my tongue? Why did my brain search for something to say instead of just recalling that planned response to a clear, direct question?

My best guess is practice. Knowing what to say really doesn't have a lot of practical value until I open my mouth and say it. Same thing with recognizing the solution to a challenge. It may be nice to have the tools, but what actually makes a difference is using those tools. If that isn't second nature yet, I think that means I get to practice letting what I know inform my behavior. I suppose that's what a creative life is all about... finding effective ways to get ideas from my head into reality. And trusting myself to know how to do it.

The Phone Call

I want to tell you about a phone call I had a few days ago, but first I want to give you a brief update of where things stand. I recently signed a 5-year exclusive contract with a publisher for one of my pieces. This is an incredible stepping stone, and I am very excited about the possibilities that can spring from it. It means essentially that I have an advocate for my music who has contacts and connections that I don't. And he has a vested interest in getting my music heard.

The Envision Coaching Solutions site is on track, with a target date of June 7 for the first official newsletter. I've been working on a free download to provide to people who sign up for the newsletter, and I am very pleased with what I have put together. It is very rewarding to be consistently following a realistic plan for this endeavor, and I want to share the whole process with you soon. For now, I'll just say that a big inspiration for the site has been David Wood's book, Get Paid For Who You Are.

So now to the amazing phone call I had last week. Over the past several months, I've been reading a lot of books about entrepreneurial skills, leadership, and success. I really value what I have been learning, but I don't often give the authors of these books much thought beyond assessing the credibility of what they've written. As I was marking my place in one of those books, I noticed the author's bio on the jacket cover and saw that he was local. I decided that, when I finished the book, I would give him a call and let him know how much I enjoyed it.

Well, I made that call just a couple of days ago, and I was completely unprepared for how rewarding it turned out to be. I simply expressed my appreciation for what he had written, and I told him the biggest lesson I had gotten from the book. He commented on that insight. Then he took things a bit further and dug in with me about owning some of my personal advantages. It was one of those conversations that just helps things click into place mentally. Before we hung up, I asked if there was a way to keep posted on local events at which he would be speaking, because I want to let other people know about the opportunity. As a result, I wound up getting invited to an event I would never have known about otherwise.

I walked away from that call ready to embrace my strengths and find more opportunities to connect with people in a meaningful way. At the time, I thought it was a bold move to pick up the phone and call a stranger to say how much I appreciated his book. When I think about it, who wouldn't want to take a call of gratitude from someone? It was still a different behavior for me, so it seemed to be riskier than it actually was. And getting past that perceived risk was incredibly rewarding.

By the way, the author is Garrison Wynn, and the book I was calling him about is The Real Truth About Success. You might have your own set of people to connect with. Expressing sincere gratitude is not as risky as you might think.

Changes in the Weather

The leadership of an organization with which I was once involved recently decided that a keystone to creating their vision was clearer, open communication. I was thrilled for them, and I was a bit surprised. During my time with them, I had spoken often of the need for communication practices that were more in line with their stated purpose and mission, and my words had not been very well received by some key decision makers. Although it would have been rewarding to be acknowledged at the time and to be a part of their growth, I am encouraged that they are addressing some of the issues that have kept them from creating all that they envision. And I am not disappointed with where my own life has led.

I made a recommendation to another group just a short time ago, and I was told, "A few years ago, this wouldn't have been possible, but now the time may be right to start heading in this direction." I don't believe that the idea has any more value now, but the ability or willingness of some decision makers to embrace it has changed. And I may have become a little more skillful at presenting my insights. In fact, these two elements form a powerful dynamic that can determine whether a great idea soars or flops.

One thing I took away from both experiences is that I have great ideas. Not all of them, of course. I have plenty of ideas that miss the mark completely. But I have plenty of insights that are right on the money, too. Either way, my ideas are worth sharing. Feedback from others can help discern the unrealistic from the realistic, the absurd from the inspired. The only way to get that feedback is to share what I'm noticing and what I'm thinking. So, if nothing else, I am encouraged to keep sharing my own discoveries and ideas.

But how I share those ideas is important, too. I am learning to paint as vivid a picture as I can when I communicate my vision to others. I want to be specific enough that other people can see the possibilities I see. And I want to clearly express how they will benefit. Change is threatening to many people, primarily because our minds go crazy with worst case scenarios. And yet, actually creating the lives, relationships, or businesses we want often requires changing something. Otherwise, everybody would be perfectly happy with everything just the way it is. I realize that I can communicate possibilities in a way that helps people see how a proposed change is actually an improvement, and a step toward what they truly want. In the past, I have often taken for granted that people will see that potential for themselves.

And then there are some people who just don't want to see possibilities. No matter how clearly and effectively I communicate, I know that there are some instances in which my ideas won't be well received. In one instance, it was a single individual on a decision-making team who had a personal agenda. I don't know exactly what this person believed, but it was clear that no idea coming from me was going to gain ground. But there were more ears listening than that one closed pair. That individual is no longer on the team directing the organization's practices, and some of the ideas I conveyed are now being considered, even though I am no longer present to communicate them. Sometimes, the timing of an idea is at least as important as creating a vivid expression of its value.

So, what I value from all of these experiences is clarity about what I control and what I don't. How I communicate insights can make the difference in how those insights are received. That part is entirely in my court. And sometimes, for whatever reason, a person may be unwilling to hear what I have to say. I may be able to influence that, but often that piece is out of my hands. Being aware of that can help me to be patient, because one way or another, the weather will eventually change. And if what I want to express is important to me, especially if I see the incredible benefit that it could have for others, I can wait for the tempest to subside and try again.

Acts of Sabotage

Rehearsal is part of a musician's life. If I want to perform a piece of music flawlessly, it takes considerable practice ahead of time. Even those who improvise in performances need to rehearse on their instrument in order to pull off convincing, skillful improvisations. As a musician, I accept that how well I perform is based in part on how well I have practiced. It would make perfect sense if I transferred that philosophy into other areas of life as well.

As a step in building a business, I recently joined a networking group called BNI. The group is designed to be an ongoing source of mutual referrals, and we meet for breakfast each Wednesday. At the breakfast, every member offers a 60-second introduction of themselves, their business, and what kind of clients they are currently seeking. My first week as a part of this BNI branch, I assumed that my 60-second introduction would require very little preparation. I have been speaking in front of groups of people for many years, and since I knew the basics of what I wanted to say, I went in cold.

One minute is not a great deal of time, people. If you don't believe me, set a timer and start talking about something that ignites your passion. I wound up rushing things, and I didn't even get to everything I wanted to say. Needless to say, I realized that I wanted to be better prepared to deliver a concise, effective introduction the next week. So, the night before the next BNI breakfast, I rehearsed an introduction verbally. I didn't write anything down, but I went over it several times, tweaking a phrase here and there. On Wednesday morning, I spoke through it again in the car and believed I was much better prepared than the previous week.

No matter how prepared someone is, there is always a little bit of stress in the heat of the moment. My delivery that morning fell far short of "flawless." It was clunky at best. I forgot a piece of information and then went back and inserted it awkwardly, and I added things that diluted the basic facts I wanted to get across about myself and my business. Even though I have read time and time again about the value of writing down a presentation, some part of my brain decided that I didn't need that advice... until after the fact. I finally admitted to myself that the importance I wanted to place on my participation in the BNI group would be best served through being thoroughly prepared, and that meant more intentional rehearsal.

I had the opportunity just a couple of days later. Since I won't be able to attend the breakfast this week, I went online to the group's website and looked for a substitute from another BNI branch. The first person I contacted agreed, and invited me to his branch's breakfast on Friday (just a couple of days after my second barely-prepared introduction). Of course, he needed my 60-second introduction written down in order to present it as my substitute, so the arrangement necessitated taking the time to thoughtfully construct what I want to say. After a little time scripting the intro, I memorized it and practiced saying it aloud until I was satisfied with every aspect of it. Friday morning was a perfect opportunity to try the well-rehearsed intro with a brand new group of people.

Nailed it! I represented myself and my business with much greater authority and confidence when I practiced what I would say ahead of time. So much of what I know as a musician and a composer transfers to other areas of my life if I allow it to. But my mind sometimes sabotages what I truly want to create by convincing me that I don't have the time or skill to do something well. Or that I don't need the extra preparation because I already know what to do. The truth is that it didn't actually take very long to be well-prepared, and no matter how well I know how to do something, a little extra practice never hurts. Moreover, I am usually realistic about what I am able to accomplish when I think things through. The bottom line is that anything worth doing well is worth the time to prepare well. Something I've known, but sometimes forget.

What To Do with Disappointment

Disappointments seem to come more frequently when I am bringing myself forward most fully. When I am trying new ways of doing things and stepping into the unknown, I experience more disappointment than when I play it safe and stay in my comfort zone. Predictability isn't ultimately satisfying, though. The big dreams and the worthwhile visions don't hang out in my comfort zone. So, if I accept that disappointment is part of the journey, what do I do with it?

Ignoring disappointment isn't always easy, even if I intend to do so. When a recent Power of Connection course didn't make enrollment, though, I had so many other irons in the fire that it was easy to get over the disappointment quickly and keep focusing on the endeavors that were in motion. I still would have liked to hold the course, but dwelling on that would have potentially taken energy away from other things that mattered to me. The down side of getting over disappointment quickly is that I don't put a plan in place for what I want to do differently in the future.

Simply dwelling on how things didn't work out the way I wanted would be counterproductive, too. At a previous job, I was disappointed that my insights were not heard or respected, and I will admit to spending some time wallowing in that frustration. When I started to examine possible causes, though, I was able to come up with several possibilities. Perhaps I could have been more descriptive in laying out my vision, since others may not have an easy time seeing the possibilities I saw. It's possible that my expectations of the position simply didn't line up with what others thought it should involve. There could have been some political maneuvering going on that had nothing to do with me. Or a few individuals may have had personal issues that weren't being addressed. Or, or, or...

When I take the time to think about why my expectations may not have lined up with reality, it offers me a chance to plan for how I can potentially come closer to what I want the next time I'm in a similar situation. And it helps me to see that there are some factors that may just be out of my control. But if I am able to recognize how telling a more vivid and compelling story can help others see more clearly what I envision, I can change how I describe the possibilities I see. If it seems most likely that a course I'm teaching would reach its maximum enrollment when others are helping to market it, I can start looking for partnerships plenty of time in advance of the next course.

In starting a new business with a wellness company, I am telling a lot of people what I'm creating and why. Some of them aren't as interested as I would like them to be, but when I return to the purpose behind what I'm doing, it becomes much easier to be invigorated by the possibilities. Many times, I have sent out a piece of music to a competition, only to learn a few months later that another composition was chosen instead of mine. I am understandably disappointed. But when I wrote the piece, winning a competition didn't really enter into my motivation.

When purposefulness slips into desperation, it can seem overwhelming that what I had hoped for didn't come to fruition. But when I remember my intention and I am open to seeing a wealth of possibility, each moment of disappointment is an opportunity to define my next steps and fine-tune my goals. I know a little more about what I want and what I can do to create it. The path is in many ways a game of trials and errors. Inspirations and adjustments. Growth.

The Illusion of Safety

I barely acknowledge some of the fears that drive my behavior. I am afraid of being perceived as "pushy," so I don't express the potential I see in some people's lives. I am afraid of being the focus of someone's anger, so I don't always support people on the commitments they make. I am afraid of not being accepted, so I keep to myself insights and ideas that could actually pave the way for someone's dreams becoming reality. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but it most likely boils down to a desire to be safe.

Every day, I pass by many apartment complexes with "security gates," to provide an illusion of safety to the residents. I've lived in those kinds of communities. The gates, when they actually function properly, may make it a little tougher for someone, but anybody that really wants to be on the other side of the gate can find a way to do it. My mind sometimes has me convinced that by not sharing what I see, I am keeping myself safe from other people's judgment. When I take an honest look, I can acknowledge how silly that mental security gate is.

My hairstyle isn't "safe." I write music that could be called challenging on a few different levels. But I am not always willing to directly challenge other people's perceptions of reality. Even when their perceptions keep them from creating the lives they claim to want. It seems safer just to let people believe what they believe and behave how they behave.

My mind gets hung up on the idea of accepting other people. I want to accept people for who they are, and I want to respect the beliefs that they choose. But accepting people doesn't mean refusing to challenge them. Especially on the beliefs that they are acting on subconsciously. Like my belief that sharing what I see will result in rejection. What I actually want is to let my strengths be of benefit in other people's lives, and some of those strengths involve seeing potential that others simply don't see.

So the question becomes, how do I dismantle that silly security gate and the illusion of safety? Well, for one thing, communication is a skill that can bridge the gap between what I fear and what I want. When I am careless in how I communicate what I see, then it's more likely that I will say things in a less hearable way. When I communicate clearly and in detail the possibilities I see, and I am clear about my motivation for doing so, I create a space that allows for easier partnership. Or even space for others to springboard from my vision into a purpose of their own.

My willingness to be vulnerable leads me to recognize that I can be passionate about something without being attached to what someone else does with it. I am only responsible for me, and I am also the only one who can share what I see. It's not necessarily "safe," but really... what is?

Parable

Three men set out on a journey, each determined to take their own route. The first set off without clearly defining his destination, and within the first hour he threw away his map. Along the way, he asked the people he encountered, or looked at signs along the road, to find out where he was. When he learned something about his current locale, he would think, "Ah, exactly where I wanted to go next." He knew that no one could criticize him for where he had arrived, because he had no clear destination in mind and could therefore never be off course. And he was only mildly perturbed when he learned that he traveled in circles, because at least he was in motion.

The second man was more clear about where he wanted to go, and he told many people of his intended destination. With great purpose, he set off in the direction he thought best and with great confidence he followed his own internal compass. He kept his map close and he spoke to many people along the journey, but they were of little value. When he consulted the map and learned that it indicated a different route than he had chosen, he assumed that the map was outdated. And when the people he encountered suggested a better way to reach his destination than the route he was taking, he assumed that they were mistaken or even malicious in their intent. Without regard for reality or the counsel of others, he stuck to his own sense of how to get to his destination. He has yet to draw close to it, and it is more and more difficult for him to hide his frustration each day.

The third man had a clear destination in mind, and he shared it with others. He consulted many guidebooks and maps, and when he was satisfied that the accumulated knowledge was sufficient, he began the journey. As he encountered people along the way, he shared with them about his path and his destination. If any had advice or suggestions, he weighed it carefully, considering whether it had merit and adjusting his plan accordingly. Along the way, he planned future destinations and thought about where later journeys might take him, while still holding to the purpose of the path he was on. Although he took time to enjoy the journey, he was also intentional about making at least a little forward progress each day.

A balance of confidence and humility makes any destination more attainable and any journey more enjoyable.

Speaking in the Face of Fear

Edmund Burke claimed, "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." Often, this politically charged quote is used to draw attention to flaws in large-scale systems, but it is equally applicable in small-scale communities. In fact, when fear runs rampant in a community, it is often because the fearful voices are the only ones being heard. There may be those who are level-headed, trusting, and full of faith, but if they do not speak up, they diminish their chances to influence a community.

In the past, I have watched as communities divided over petty issues, or as charismatic and vocal individuals spread panic through a group of people in order to gain support for personal agendas. Fear can be very persuasive, and it doesn't take much effort for us to become fearful. And yet, individuals and communities who react to situations out of fear or panic often do things that are in direct conflict with their purposes. Fear gives us an excuse to behave badly, a justification for doing things we would criticize in others.

And when no one points it out to us, fear keeps us blind. Fear puts sheets up over all of the mirrors so we never clearly see who we are being. It takes a certain trust, confidence, and willingness to stand up in the face of that kind of fear and call it what it is. In communities where those kind of trusting and willing people speak up, fear is less likely to take root. It is not always comfortable or easy to speak up in a rising tide of fearfulness or panic, and yet it is vital for the well-being of a community.

When individuals are willing to hold one another to the true purpose of a community, that vision can remain clear and focused. When we see something happening that is out of alignment with the purpose we have claimed for ourselves and our communities, it often only requires us to be willing to open our mouths to defuse the fear. It may seem easier to step back and criticize, to form our own secret collusion committees, or to suggest that "someone" should do something, but those responses only engage our own fears. There is something noble in each of us that calls us into action, and that noble action can be as simple as a calm, gentle, and disarming reminder of purpose and vision.

Dark Corners and Open Spaces

Dark corners seem seductive sometimes. They are secretive and mysterious. Exciting even. Things that are whispered in dark corners are often titillating... things that wouldn't be spoken out in the open. Plots, schemes, complaints, juicy tidbits of gossip. In dark corners, you can say things without having to take too much responsibility for them. Some people may be suspicious of what hides in the dark corners, but it's an easy place to hide.

It's much safer than what happens out in the open. In open spaces, things cannot be quite so easily hidden. It may not be as exciting, but things spoken out in the open are often more honest. There's a greater likelihood that someone will be held accountable for something done where everyone can see and hear. It certainly seems more risky and vulnerable than the dark corners.

But actually, if we want our complaints and concerns addressed, there is a greater likelihood that we will get what we want when we are willing to be honest and open about them. If we can look someone in the eye and communicate openly about what we want, that individual actually has a chance to respond. Going into dark corners and whispering may be more exciting, but it often doesn't give anyone an opportunity to respond meaningfully. It does allow us the illusion that we don't have to take responsibility for our part in things... that someone else is responsible for dealing with our issues.

Unless what we really want is to complain without consequence, to create dissension or anxiety, to find collusion rather than solution. I find it difficult to believe that anyone truly wants that, deep down in the core of their being. Perhaps I am being naive, but it seems obvious that there is no real power or peace in the dark corners. As I see it, the true power comes from a willingness to connect with another person, even one with whom I have differences, openly and honestly. Then, our creativity can be engaged in finding ways forward in partnership. There isn't really any way forward from a dark corner, except out into the open.

Community Defined

Someone I am partnering with on a project recently described a familiar scenario: Several people were involved in a discussion, and they had reached an apparent agreement. Then one person simply restated what had been agreed, only to find that people had different understandings of their agreement. What had seemed clear was revealed to be subject to varying interpretations.

Sometimes language can be used to communicate with precision and clarity, and sometimes words can obfuscate. This might be intentional in some cases, especially in the realm of marketing and advertising, but in most circumstances, I think that people typically want to be understood when they choose to communicate. It's a huge assumption on my part, but I'm going to run with it.

As I have been considering many ways in which I can partner with others, communication has been rather important. And since I am a part of several different communities, I have been looking at many different possibilities for building on the relationships that already exist for me. I thought at first that a community's purpose would play a part in how communication and partnership could play out among its members, but I am finding that people often have different definitions for some of those purposes.

Even the word community is a bit muddy. I am a part of a community of people where I live, a community of different people where I work, and several other communities of people because of various interests. My definition of a community has been a group of individuals who have a common purpose, but I admit that I don't really know the purpose of many of the folks who live in my neighborhood. For some, community may have to do first and foremost with proximity, and for others it may have to do more with attitude than anything else. I have seen people who claim to have common purposes treat one another with suspicion and even malice. By my perception, that would make it difficult to develop a sense of community, but others might see no connection at all.

So, how can a sense of community be developed unless the word itself is well-defined by its members? Communication might be a start, and it couldn't hurt for that communication to be honest and connecting. Personally, I am considering some alternative words that might be less ambiguous. Partnership is certainly one of them.

The Power of Partnership, Part 2

I had occasion last week to go back through this blog and read all of my old entries. In May, I wrote about the power of partnership and how willingly people seem to partner with me when I give them an opportunity. More recently, I wrote about learning in a spiral, getting a new perspective on a particular challenge each time I encounter it. Today, the spiral has brought me back around to partnership because of three important pieces I gained over the past few days.

It has been because of partnership in communication that I have become more keenly aware that I am trying to do something unusual in my life. I am looking at what I want in my life and determining how to create it. Recognizing that the plan I am putting in place is not designed to change everything overnight, I am still seeking the small steps I can take toward a distant goal while getting all that I can from where I am in the moment. I want there to be purpose rather than reactions behind my choices, and I want to develop my sense of personal authenticity while empowering others to do the same.

Sometimes I just assume that this all makes sense to others, but I have also realized how easily people can draw off-the-mark conclusions when they only have bits and pieces to go on. My willingness to communicate has often involved me believing I was doing my best to be approachable and then waiting for someone to ask a question. Now I am seeing how that has led to some frustration and how much personal power that actually gives away. Waiting for other people to open the door for me also gives me constant ammunition to judge and criticize, to deflect attention away from the fact that I haven't been opening those doors myself. My predictions or assumptions about how people will respond can keep me from opportunities for satisfying partnership.

At one point, I thought that the limitation of that was in finding people who are willing to partner. I knew that I can't do everything myself, but I was not entirely convinced that anyone else wanted to be a part of what I am trying to create on any level. Yet even in the last few days I have been elated that individuals have responded favorably when I sought partnership. What it took was making it clearly known what I wanted, and people appeared willing to find out more. When I allowed fear to keep me from opening my mouth and asking for it, partnership was much less possible.

But I have also learned that I can partner with people who are not as intentional about their partnership. When I am willing to stand in my own competence, insight, and vision, without worrying about what other people see and without trying to prove anything, I can partner in some way with anyone. Their own fears, beliefs, and assumptions might limit how high that partnership can soar, just as mine will when I slip out of alignment with myself. But even limited partnership is not without value.

Listening

I had a conversation yesterday I don’t think I could have had a year ago. A couple of people had concerns about the way I have been handling a situation, and I heard about it through a third party. I asked for (and got) some time to hear their concerns face to face, and I went into the conversation with a desire to hear what they had to say. I also had a desire for them to know that they were heard. If they were willing, I wanted to be heard, too. I didn’t believe I had to defend myself, but I did want to have an opportunity to be honest with them. As it turns out, the conversation was incredibly informative, and I have had a chance to think about several things as a result of my willingness to listen and their willingness to be heard.

Part of the issue for me centers on bringing my full, authentic self forward. In my effort to do this, I can sometimes lose sight of other people, or I can forget the context of certain relationships. My full, authentic self might look different in a recording studio than it would at a family reunion or in front of a classroom. It's not that I have to hide out or be dishonest about who I am, but rather that I can be more sensitive about other people's expectations and the environment in which we interact.

A piece of it rests with other people's interpretations as well. In fact, these particular concerned individuals had begun to draw conclusions from a few pieces of information out of a much broader framework. Their observations are certainly valid, but they are in some ways incomplete. I recognize that if others want to read something into my words and actions without verifying with me, I have very little control over that.

At the same time, I can be more conscious of how my words and actions reflect my deepest and noblest intentions, and I can strive to make it easy for people to see my authentic self. A part of my response to these specific concerns was to look at the larger context very closely, and what I found was that they stemmed from exceptions and not the norm. I have taken some action to address those isolated incidents, and I am moving forward with greater awareness.

Out of that connecting conversation, there arose some questions I still want to answer for myself, and I am grateful to have such blatant evidence of the rewards of being willing to listen.

Snapshots

I don't like taking photographs of things. Whether it's a special occasion or a vacation, I prefer to just experience things and rely on my memory to keep a record of whatever is important or meaningful. I realize that my mind is a flawed piece of machinery, and that memory is fallible. But I also realize that snapshots are flawed in their own way because of how incomplete they are.

For instance, while I do my best to keep things relevant in what I share in writing this blog, the reader only gets a snapshot of my experience. Enough snapshots can give you the impression of a complete (or at least unfolding) story, but only a fraction of the full experience is shared, by necessity of the medium. It would take a bit more digging to get the full story behind my experience of any piece of learning I share in a few paragraphs here.

Likewise, I only have snapshots of other people. And some of those pictures aren't even true. I create my own impressions and predictions of people based on very limited information. I don't honestly know any more about anyone than what they are willing to share with me. I'm going to form predictions and expectations about people. It's when I base my own actions on those predictions that I run into trouble.

When I am willing to be surprised by people, I usually find it to be rewarding. When I stand in my own integrity, I base my decisions about what I do or say on myself rather than my predictions about others. If I am willing to be honest about what I notice, without having to be "right" or get a certain outcome, I never have to worry about how someone else will respond. And the picture I wind up with about another person becomes clearer when I concentrate on just being honest about me and I let them be honest about them.