Becoming Unnecessary

Reading over some of my past entries, I find that I often write about little discoveries (and big ones), but I don't often include much about the victories that follow on the heels of those discoveries. This is therefore a bit of self-acknowledgment.

Already I am realizing that the title I chose is rather inaccurate, but it is as good a starting point as any. I spent a portion of my time at work today doing little more than checking in with people. Some of the people I supervise are volunteers and some are paid employees, and in the past, I have scurried from one room to another in a frenetic attempt to oversee everything at once. This season, I did things a little differently, putting into practice all of the pieces I have been learning about leadership and vision.

I communicated clearly my vision for this particular program, and I facilitated coordinated preparation between different people. I have spent time in conversation about available resources and realistic time management on a small and large scale. Today, I watched as these capable and dedicated individuals went about doing their part and I found that my presence was simply not needed. I'm sure that it made a difference to someone that I was there, but there wasn't anything I had to do.

By holding the vision, empowering the people who were carrying it out, and remaining connected to everyone involved, I have begun to live out a different model for leadership than what I previously practiced. It was rewarding today to watch everything happen smoothly, to sit back and appreciate the commitment and purposefulness of people doing something they believe in, knowing that it was taking place in part because of my efforts.

So it isn't actually true that I am becoming unnecessary in the process. What's true is that I have begun to see my role in the creation process, and the roles of other people as well, in a new light. It was absolutely worth being present today, even though there wasn't anything I needed to do.

Making Them Understand

When I hear someone talk about making someone else understand something, I think it's a bit funny. I didn't always. In fact, I still do things out of a subconscious desire for other people to understand my way of thinking. But I realize that I can't. Sometimes it might be because people just aren't capable of it, that they simply aren't in a frame of mind that will allow them to see a different way of doing things. For me, it's more often the case that I'm unwilling to see someone's point of view. I am so convinced that I am right that I would rather try to convince someone to see things my way than listen to their perspective.

Luckily, this is not how I want to be. And the more I become aware of it, the more I can shift gears. I can listen to what someone is saying without believing that my own beliefs are threatened. Of course, this seems to be more of a challenge with people whose perspectives actually have an impact on the reality of my life, like my wife or boss or a musician who has commissioned a piece of music. Sometimes it is so logical to frame things as "either/or."

What I am realizing this week is that I have been holding off on steps forward in my vision for my life and creative pursuits because I am waiting for other people. I am waiting for their approval, for their understanding, for their acceptance... and I have been frustrated sometimes when I haven't gotten it. I've been believing that I can't move forward without making them understand what I'm doing and why. Not just understand it, but approve of it as well. What a brilliant excuse!

I can't actually make anyone understand or approve of my own vision or the actions I'll take to create it. And there is no requirement that I shift my beliefs or commitments just because someone has a different way of seeing things. I can be open to other ideas and possibilities without needing to defend myself. And I can live out my vision with integrity and purpose, trusting that those who want to see it and share in it, will.

The Upward Spiral

There are plenty of people who claim that history repeats itself, in the large scale of societies and in the small scale of individual lives. Of course there is Shaw's claim that "If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience." I'm thinking about this today because I am experiencing a bit of it. I make my commitments toward what I want to create in my life, and I somehow find myself facing in the opposite direction overcoming challenges that I thought I had already conquered.

I want to create. It is a passion of mine. Specifically, creating music is something for which I possess strong passion and capability. Creating music requires (among other things) time. It is not how I spend my time, however. I spend my time on the thing which currently brings me a paycheck. And yet, that "thing" is so nebulously defined in some ways that I have a great deal of flexibility in how my time is spent. So my commitment earlier this year was to shift away from spending my paycheck-related time on the mundane tasks that anyone can do and focus that time on the things for which I am more uniquely passionate and skilled.

And yet, those mundane tasks that anyone can conceivably do are still important. Not in an earth-shattering kind of important, but in a meeting basic week-to-week expectations kind of important. So, if I am spending less time on them, it means that someone else must be doing them. Obviously, for my commitment to line up with practical reality, my goals would be best served by finding other people to take on the more mundane but necessary tasks. A short-term expenditure of time to locate and train someone leading to a long-term benefit of gaining more time to create.

But somehow, there always seem to be mundane tasks that need doing. I find myself looking back at my week thinking, "How did I spend so much time and have so little satisfaction from it?" At first I thought, other people aren't willing to do the mundane but necessary tasks, so I'm stuck with them. That's not exactly true, though. I have found willing people, I just keep finding more things to do that don't engage my deepest passions. So I recommit to shifting how I allocate my time, only to find myself doing a different set of mundane (but necessary?) tasks.

Now, I am thinking, how frightened must I be of getting what I truly want? There will always be easy choices about spending my time on more-or-less insignificant tasks, but the most immediately obvious task isn't necessarily the one that will serve my long-range goals. In fact, the most obvious tasks are often the ones that will rob me of the opportunity to get a little closer to what I truly want.

The life I envision for myself is not to make the easiest choices, but to make the most fulfilling ones. I am now looking at this decision again from a slightly different angle. I'm faced with re-learning the lesson, but I have made progress. I recognize the challenge, but I am getting more masterful and more determined. My commitment matters a little more to me now than it did the first time I claimed it. So, here I go again.

Odd Duck

It's the ones that don't quite fit in that often attract my attention. When I am standing in line at the supermarket and there is just one cheery, talkative, fat guy commenting on other people's food choices, he gets my attention. Not because he's conversational or overweight necessarily, just because his behavior is so far from what everyone else is doing. In a way, I find him more appealing. If he wasn't there, I might notice other people more, but that's a different blog entry.

I'm thinking today about that one house on the block that is more dilapidated and sad-looking that all the houses around it. If every home in the neighborhood was in dire need of repair, that one house would be of little consequence. But when every other home seems well-kept and structurally sound, that one home gets my attention. It works just the opposite way, too; if there's one brand new, two-story palace on a block with run-down ranch-style homes, I think most people would notice the one that doesn't quite fit.

It's about how "normal" becomes defined, I think. We accept something as normal because of its abundance, not because of its quality. We may prefer a certain type of house when we consider it in isolation from its surroundings, but what winds up attracting our attention is the house that isn't "normal." We then form whatever judgments we want to about that particular home (or person), for good or for ill.

Don't get me wrong. I am capable of judging large groups of similar people, or houses, or whatever it may be. Our human minds do this all too well. But I am thinking today about "normal" because I am realizing how far my own vision for my life is from that measurement. What I want is not "normal" life. In my own way, I want to be the cheery fat guy in the checkout line, only with regard to my career, my creativity, and my connection with other people. There is absolutely no reason for me to accept "normal" as a quality to which I should aspire. That a lot of people live a certain way doesn't mean anything about what I can create when I reach for the fullness of my capability.

Of course, I am aware that there are any number of reactions from others that I just can't control. Some people are attracted to what's not "normal," but some people are afraid of it. And some people can be downright offended or hostile toward it. When I notice all of those other people in the checkout line, how many of them actually find that talkative guy appealing? What are all of those people in the other houses saying about that one home that doesn't fit in their neighborhood? Honestly, I don't know. It's that simple.

Fragments

Today it was a harp plucking E-flat unison with a soft sustained flute as a viola slides down its fourth string in an eerie decrescendo over three slow beats. On beat four, a bass drum quietly bathes the room in its wide rumble. And I hear something metallic there as well, I don't know what.

While my time is currently scheduled in such a way that I do not have lengthy swaths to allow my creativity to be completely unleashed, I cannot keep ideas from drawing my interest. In the midst of an email or organizing my desk or driving I get snippets of sounds that persist in my head. The first thought is usually how much I like the sound, and the second thought is usually "Where have I heard that before?" Once in a while, I'll be able to place it in a film score or some classical piece I enjoyed at some point in the past, but I am often convinced that it is original. Mostly at least.

With just a hint of inspiration, I am able to see a wealth of possibilities. From one sound or musical idea, any number of paths can emerge. Where does it want to go? How does it want to evolve? And when will I take the time to bring it to life? That last one is a bit frustrating, but I can accept that I don't know the future.

The bottom line is that I write down what I can of the sound. It may be a particular melody, a timbre, a contour, a rhythm. I usually have staff paper close at hand, but sometimes it winds up on a napkin or an envelope. They will wait for me, and I will continue in my journey with a purposeful intention to find ways to allow my creativity to have my full and undivided attention. At least long enough to develop some of these compelling sounds into something complete, whatever that looks like.

As long as the sounds keep coming, I'll keep writing them down and watching for the chance. And each little inspiration gives me another reason to keep stepping forward.