dare to dream

Affirming our 'I'dentity

My friend Aaron recently went to a book-signing for Julie Andrew's book Home:  A Memoir of my Early Years, had two copies autographed, and was kind enough to gift me the second copy.

Now for those of you that don't know Aaron -- he's 6' 6", and a former college football player, making his fondness for Julie Andrews all the more darling.

Even so, I was far more appreciative than I could express.

This gift wasn't just a book, it was an affirmation of my 'I', my 'I'dentity -- my self, as it were.

Perhaps you recall that when I was three I saw The Sound of Music for the first time.  It was this film that prompted my discovery of music and the piano, and one of my earliest, perhaps most important childhood dreams -- that of becoming a concert pianist.

Did he, could he, have known all of this?

Likely not.

This past week my friend Stacey Petrey gave a similarly thoughtful gift in hosting another More Women Networking luncheon at the Harvard Club here in Boston.

She knows we appreciate her organizing the luncheon.

But I don't think she quite comprehends, nor can she, just how much of a gift this luncheon actually was.

For, just like Aaron, Stacey gave a gift to our 'I's.

So much of our lives are about shoring up our roles as caregivers, nurturers, connectors.  How wonderful it was to have two hours focused on our identities, our selves.

Empowerment of women?  Perhaps.

The well-being of More Women?

Without a doubt.

Has someone given you a gift recently that you were moved by, far more than you had anticipated?  Were they unexpectedly affirming a nascent or forgotten piece of your self?

When was the last time you spent a few hours focused on your 'I'dentity?

Related posts:
Tell your soundtrack story:  Of childhood and Christmas
An artist of encouragement
Mary and Martha
Pew Research Center "Fewer Mothers Prefer Full-Time Work" 
Bounty

Tell your soundtrack story: College, culmination of childhood dreams

If you are here for the first time, you may want to skim through Tell your soundtrack story:  Part I before reading further.

Important music during my 20's seems to largely represent the culmination of childhood dreams, prior to pursuing different dreams.  I've tried to capture this experience in a children's book which Mallika Sundaramurthy has illustrated; I will share the book with you at a later date.

Clip 1:  I am playing Lizst's, Concert Etude in D-flat Major, "Un sospiro" as part of my senior piano recital (for my posterity -- entire program is below).  This recital was a significant milestone: it allowed me to be the hero of my story, rethink my competence, and tell an audio story for my posterity.  It was also a stepping stone, as I symbolically closed the chapter on a childhood dream, prior to starting my career chapter in New York.  I owe a debt to Dr. Paul Pollei for pushing me and preparing me to pull this off -- a huge debt.  A reminder of the importance of our mentoring others.

Clip 2:  I am playing the piano, but this time as part of Brigham Young University's big band Synthesis performing at the renowned Montreux Jazz Festival.  Even a short listen will reveal I don't have the same confidence playing jazz as I do classical.  But in some ways, I am even more proud of this recording because it signalled a departure from reading music to improvising, providing me with another opportunity to rethink my competence.

Two more lessons learned as it relates to 'dare to dream'.

Saying our dream out loud -- As a freshman classical piano student, when I heard Synthesis perform which included Sam Cardon and Kurt Bestor, I later made the pronoucement in front of a large group of women at my church (the Relief Society) that I was going to play in Synthesis.  Given my skills at the time, the pronouncement was pretty laughable.  What dream do you need to utter out loud?

Mentors were key to achieving this dream -- Without my piano teacher, Steve Erickson, who now plays with the U.S. Air Force, and the encouragement of Jeff Campbell, an amazing musican who now teaches at the Eastman School of Music, who was gracious enough to never remind me just what an amateur I was.

Clip 3:  Nancy Wilson with Cannonball Adderley performing The Old Country.  This was the kind of music I aspired to play, and still love to listen to.  You can buy here. And listen below.

Clip 4:  I've written extensively about my Wall Street story, but I haven't spoken much of my spiritual/personal life during that decade.  Eternal Day was set to music by D. Fletcher, performed by D. Fletcher on piano, Alison Eldredge on cello, and Ariel Bybee, vocals.  When you hear it, perhaps you'll understand how church every Sunday was always complete with D. Fletcher at the organ with nary a word spoken. . For more on spiritual journeys, you may want to read Neylan McBaine's article, Seeds of faith in city soil.

Do you have spiritual or secular stories that need to be told?  And better yet, stories that marry the two?

P.S. Thank you to Neal Robison for helping me with the clips. Check out the blog of his darling wife Macy.

Related posts:

Tell your soundtrack story:  Part II

Tell your soundtrack story:  Part III

Giant baby steps

Telling my Wall Street story

Boston Globe Op-Ed:  Romney, Mormons and Me

Doorsteps, doors and dreams

"You're leaving again Mom. You're never here," said my 11 year-old David, as I was walking out the door to the March of Dimes benefit that my friend Jane was emceeing.

My hair was done, make-up on, clothing donned, but I asked anyway:

"Do you want me to stay David?"

"You won't Mom, so I won't ask."

"Are you sure?"

"Go mom."

I got in the car, immediately called my husband who supplied characteristically good advice, "Trust your gut", I turned the car around.

Walking in the door, changing into my pajamas, watching TV together, having David know that I'd put him first, and MY knowing that I'd put him first....

Lovely Jane understood.

***

Several weeks later, one of my mentors encouraged me to bring my children along as I 'dare to dream' and 'know my neighbor', or as my children call it 'dare to know your neighbor.' Because he gave me several pieces of advice, many of which I quite preferred, 'bring your children along', was noted, and forgotten.

Until one of my girlfriends gave me the same advice.

Three times in three weeks. Three different people.

Hmmm.

Is it possible that even as I attend to my children's emotional well-being at a basic level (probably better than basic), I'm excluding them from a large piece of myself, and in effect, leaving them on the doorstep of my dreams?

Courtesy of Tomaz Levstek via iStockphoto

Were I to include them more -- what would happen?

It had crossed my mind to take David to the March of Dimes benefit. Too young. He won't want to go. Too much work for me. And 11 is probably too young. But next year?

When I asked him if he would come to something like this, his answer was yes.

By taking David, we'd spend time together, I'd get to see him in a tuxedo AND we could support both Jane and The March of Dimes.

Opening the door to our children's dreams, even as we open the door to ours.

An elegant, both/and solution; Psyche would no doubt be approve.

***

As we involve and engage our children in the dreaming process, they will definitely learn from us (some good, some bad), but what can we learn from them? How do their strengths help us?

What can we learn from Susan Minot's Evening about including our children?

When have you involved your children in your dream, whether planning or executing, or both?

How did you feel? How did they?

Related posts:
Children and the call to adventure
Susan Minot's Evening
Parenting and the hero's journey
Pscyhe's 4th Task: Learn to say no
Enough

What I learned about seeing from my glasses

I recently bought glasses.

Having never needed nor worn glasses, this was a big deal.

But my choice to get my eyes checked, and buy glasses on my birthday, left me wondering.

It's good to again read fine print, but of all the things that I could do on my birthday, why would my focus shift to eyeglasses?

Surely there was a bigger picture.

In buying glasses, was I acknowledging that even as my physical eyes deteriorate, I am seeing myself -- my who I am, my competence -- better than ever?

Further, are my glasses a tangible reminder of how important it is to me to mentor, to be a see-er of the magnificence in others, until they can see the magnificence in themselves?

And the answers to these rhetorical questions are --

Yes and yes.

I couldn't have given myself a better present.

What do you see more clearly today than you did last year, five years, ten years ago?

Who can you be a see-er for while she/he learns to see for themselves?

Mentoring for a moment

In late August, lovely Barbara Torris responded to my question -- "Who are your heros?".

Imagine her surprise when, last week, one of her heros, Russell Kirsch, the man who invented the square pixel in cameras, and taught computers how to "see", called to thank Barbara for her blog.

There was something quite wonderful about their interchange, but I can't quite figure out what -- will you think with me for a moment?

When Barbara wrote about Russell Kirsch, wasn't she giving a gift of her self?

Is there someone that you admire -- that is very much your hero -- to whom you can say thank you?

Whether the person responds or not, in our expression of thanks, we not only clarify what we value, our gratitude reminds us that we are not the center of everything, but a part; that we are connected. (Note: though Peggy Noonan didn't respond to my 'fan mail' two years ago, in setting forth what I admired about her, I clarified how I aspire to be.)

When Russell Kirsch responded to Barbara Torris, wasn't he receiving her gift?

Who admires you? Someone you know well, not at all, younger (probably), the children in your life? Anything you can do to receive this gift freely given?

Gift given, gift received.

Yes, yes, but it feels like there is something more....

In the Identifying my heros entry, I posed the question, "given that my childhood heros (Samantha Stevens, UCLA cheerleaders) have shaped who I've become, is it possible that my current heros (e.g. Peggy Noonan, Laura Laviada) can shape who I will yet become?"

If this is indeed true, then isn't it also true that when Russell Kirsch responded to Barbara Torris, he increased the odds that she will become what she aspires to be?

And finally, when we respond to someone who admires us -- aren't we actually saying that we see something magnificent in her that she can’t yet see, and that we are here, in this moment, to be her see-er until she can be her own?

I'm not a betting woman, but I sure do like these odds.

Whose hero are you?

Will you mentor her for a moment?

I recently went rock climbing for the first time.

Scaling the face of a rock was so far outside my comfort zone that I suspected there was something to be learned about daring and dreaming.

Lesson #1 -- Surround ourselves with heros of support
When Whitney C, our host, asked a group of us who wanted to go rock climbing the next day, I immediately raised my hand. In a quieter moment, my husband expressed surprise and delight; he had fully expected I would stay behind. Five years ago, his prediction would have been accurate. Fear of heights, falling, looking clumsy. Yep, I would have opted out.

Are we surrounding ourselves with people who want us to be the hero of our story? People who, when they see us doing things differently than we have in the past, moving from the sidelines of our life to the center, encourage us? Are we, in turn, heros of support?

Photo courtesy of Kyle Hirsch

Lesson #2 -- Systergy bridges us from imagine to explore
I wanted to climb, but I was scared. Laurel, who had agreed to belay me, not only made sure there was so little slack in the rope that if I lost my footing I wouldn't fall more than a few inches, she continually shouted out "atta girls".

When we want to explore, and showing up is a feat in and of itself, being able to place ourselves in the capable hands of another, often bridges us from imagine to explore. Knowing that Laurel, and her husband Devon, were committed to helping me and the other neophytes in the group was a gift.

Photo courtesy of Seth Neilson

Lesson #3 -- Exploring helps us rethink our competence
Once I’d reached my summit, I was truly proud. By exploring, I had conquered (at least for the moment) my fear of climbing, looking clumsy, and especially of heights.

It is, however, interesting to me that while I love going fast (perhaps because speed is somehow emblematic of ambition), I don't love heights (symbolic of perspective?). When we go fast, we can only see to the horizon; when we go up, we see so so, so, much more. Could it be that our possibilities, indeed our magnificence, albeit glorious, frighten us just a wee bit?

What have you tried recently that you were afraid to do?

Why were you afraid?

Even if you were fairly clumsy, as I was rock climbing, how did you feel afterward?

What role did the people around you play?

What similarities do you see between belaying and mentoring? Parenting?

Are you ever overwhelmed by your own possibilities of who you are and what you can accomplish?

I am. Perhaps I'll try sky diving next.

Matt Langdon over at The Hero Workshop recently interviewed me for his Hero Interviews.

He asked only two questions:

Who was your hero as a child and why?

Who are your heros today and why?

If you can believe it, I hadn't ever asked myself these questions, certainly not in a compare and contrast format.

My answers were surprising (the title is your hint), and thus revelatory, and I can't wait to share with you what I've learned.

In the meantime, who are your heros?

It was several years ago, but it seems like yesterday.

About a month before Merrill Lynch management was to decide on bonuses, my boss reviewed my various performance metrics, including, among others: did my stock calls make money for our clients, were the clients happy with my service. When he got to the metric "# of phone calls and/or meetings with clients", a number which was 40% higher than the average, he said:

“That's great, but isn't the number of client contacts high because it's fun for you?" The implication being: "I don't know that I need to compensate you for your client interactions (even though it helped drive revenue for the firm) because you're a woman -- and women like to talk on the phone and socialize."

Source: JIFormales, Flickr

With nearly three years of hindsight, here's what I wish I would have said:

“John (that's not his real name), I do like what I do. Correction. I love what I do. I love servicing our clients, and in many instances, I am genuinely fond of them. Aren't you glad that what I "love to do" generates revenue for the firm? Now, let's talk about bonuses for this year..."

In fairness to "John", his attitude is widespread and pervasive. And not just among men.

Let me illustrate by asking you the following two questions:

When you stay at a hotel, how much on average do you tip the bellmen/valets?

How much, on average, do you tip housekeeping?

Said another way, do you pay a lot more to the people (usually men) carrying the luggage that you don't need carried, opening the door you don't need opened, and retrieving the car you could get yourself, than you do to the people (usually women) who clean your room, something that you very much want to be done, and don't want to do yourself?

Now for a "not walking the talk, mea culpa" story:

When I was in Mexico last month, after the bellman hoisted my suitcase (which I could have lifted myself) into the back of a cab, I apologized (apologized!) because I didn’t have any cash on hand for a tip. Just hours before, as a housekeeper put the finishing touches on my room, I thought “I don’t need to pay her; she likes doing what she’s doing."

She likes to make my bed, pick up my towels?

That's not what I said last summer when the person cleaning our family's cruise ship cabin was a man.

We tipped him well, very well.

Hmmm.

Here's my take:

Because nurturing and caring for others tends to be a strong suit for women (I would argue it's innate), when a women gives/helps/mentors, we easily slip into a mindset of "she's doing this because she likes to, and therefore doesn't need to be compensated".

What's sad is... when she (we) aren't compensated for our work, we wonder -- did I not do good work? I'll try and do better next time. Worse yet, do we think -- is what I'm doing not important? Does what I know how to do not matter to society? If it doesn't matter to society, should it matter to me?

And what's especially sad is that when we're in this dump of a place, even a double-dog dare may not be enough to get us to dream.

So, let's change. Not a chump change. Or a small change.

But a big change.

A big wad of cash change.

Some suggestions:

1) The next time one of us goes to a hotel, let's leave a tip for housekeeping. It will be hard. Let's do it anyway.

2) When one of our female friends (or not) offers to provide us with a service – like cutting our hair – and she wants to undercharge, or do it for free, let's tell her we are going to pay market because we value her skill, her work and her time. Note: If money is an issue in the short-term, what about a barter arrangement?

3) Finally, when a woman renders a service, before deciding whether to pay, or how much to pay, let's ask ourselves: If a man were to provide this service to me, would I expect to pay him? If so, how much would I pay?

I'm ready for a big wad of cash change -- how about you?

I have another terrific blog to share with you:  HELLOmynameisHeather!

1.   Heather's fabric designs are exquisite and happy. 

I believe that looking at beautiful objects, whether fabric, paintings, or flower beds, coaxes us into a 'dare to dream' frame of mind.

2.   Because Heather has gifts that I don't have -- apparel design, styling, photography -- I don't even begin to go to the place of anti-bounty.  I just feel delight when I look at her work. 

We can only be systergistic, helping one another as we dare to dream, when we appreciate others' competencies, as well as our own.

3.   Heather's work inspires me to create.  In 4th grade, I learned how to sew.  I loved buying fabric at San Jose's Pruneyard Mall, and in the succeeding days rushing home from school to sew.  What a sense of satisfaction I derived from making something and wearing it:  I still remember the first thing I made -- a sailor dress out of blue denim kettle cloth.  I wore it on the first day of 5th grade. 

Because I was so captivated by Heather's blog, I can't help but wonder if what I see there is tapping into something more profound than looking at beautiful fabric.  Could it be that her work is a tangible reminder to me (to us?) of how much joy we can have as we create -- whether it's an object, an event, or our lives.

What kinds of things do you do to put you in the frame of mind to dream?

What did you love to do as a child?   Are you still doing it?  If you aren't, what about that activity did you love?  Is is transferable?

Could this cherished childhood activity provide any clues about what you dream of doing?

Is there a website or blog that inspires you to dare to dream?  What is it?

P.S.  Thank you to Macy Robison for introducing me to Heather Bailey's work, and to Typepad Featured blog for the re-introduction.

Over the past two days, I've spent several hours visiting with one of my dear friends, Sally Harker, who I worked with at Smith Barney in the mid '90s. She could, but kindly won't, share a firsthand account of my impressive lack of bounty early in my career.

As close friends often do, Sally gave me some constructive feedback about my blog. Which was -- you are encouraging women to tell their story without telling yours. And, for all your readers know, you may be daring them to dream, without having dreamt yourself.

Why don't you share what happened when you first moved to New York?

So, in an attempt to walk-my-talk, here goes:

When I graduated from college at 27 (nope -- not a typo), my husband and I were off to New York City, he to pursue a PhD in molecular biology at Columbia, and me to support us.

Beyond knowing that I had no interest in pursuing music (I finally settled on music after changing my major several times and accumulating 180 credits), I had no idea what I wanted to do, nor was I qualified to do much.

To any future employer, my resume (that I put together only after we had arrived in NY) boiled down to: music major + 2nd-tier university + woman = secretary. Indeed, a month after we arrived, I was hired as a secretary at Smith Barney's 1345 Avenue of the Americas office.

As the year progressed and I was less than completely overwhelmed by Manhattan (for the first week I wouldn't go anywhere without my husband or a friend), and I began to understand what Wall Street was, it occurred to me -- I'm just as smart as the folks on the professional track (e.g. investment banking analysts). I may not have a degree from Princeton, and I may not be an engineer, but I can do this.

Further motivation to "do this" came as I realized I was going to need to work for a very long time. My husband's PhD would take 6-7 years, his post-doctoral work 3-4, and if I continued to work at a low-paying secretarial job, we would be at the poverty level for a decade or more.

I had a decision to make -- job or career, make x or 10x.

Opting for the latter, I began to take business courses at night, while trying to figure out how I was going to jump to the professional track, a jump which would be difficult not only because of my lack of pedigree, but because I was a woman. Also, at nearly 30 years old, I was much older than the typical college graduate.

But a break did come in 1992, nearly 3 1/2 years after arriving in New York. And not surprisingly because of a mentor. My boss at Nomura Securities, Cesar Baez, took a chance on me, bridging for me the often unbridgeable divide between secretary and professional.

You know the rest of the story. If you don't, you can read it on the About page. But, in short, when I left Wall Street in 2005, I had accomplished what I'd set out to do -- and more.

Which is why I suppose Sally wanted me to tell my Wall Street story: she knows that I dare to dream, but she wants you to know too.

Have you thought about who you'd like to invite to subscribe to dare to dream?

Are you going to want to figure out what your dream is?

Or do you want to brainstorm about how to make your dream happen?

Just last week, my 10 year-old son David participated in his school's science fair.

As I listened to him explain his "how salt affects water freezing" findings to the mother of one of his classmates, I had one of those moments that parents get every once in awhile, which was: "My child really IS going to know things and do things and be things that will amaze me."

Imagine my surprise the next day when I learned that David had only gotten a 79 on his project.

He was surprised too.

So surprised, and angry, and hurt, that he had a really bad day. It didn't matter that he would have gotten a 92 had he included a bibliography, and finished various intermediate assignments on time; the headline number was 79.

David was so devastated that my husband and I had some decisions to make.

Validating his feelings (angry, sad, frustrated) was a no-brainer. But beyond that, what would the party line be? Were we going to say the teachers hadn't been fair because the strengths of the report mitigated the weaknesses? And what of going to school the next day? He wanted to stay home. Should we let him?

Or did we simply need to say -- we know you're sad, we love you, we know it's hard, but "Johnson's don't give up"?

As we lived through what felt like a pivotal twenty-four hours in our son's life, or at least in our lives as parents, I wondered -- are the children in our society not dreaming and doing because, even as we tell them how capable they are, we don't require accountability?

Meaning, because we don't require accountability, aren't we really saying they aren't capable? Because if we really believed they could pick themselves up when they are down, we wouldn't swoop in. And as we bail our children out, when they are alone, rather than telling themselves -- I can succeed on my hero's journey, I have a contribution to make -- are they instead saying -- I can't succeed, because even my own parents don't think I can?

What's interesting about our family's science fair saga is that many would call me a pushover parent (my kids included), but that day, I wasn't. I was clear, absolutely, certainly clear that just as we couldn't take the accountability for his grade away from him, we couldn't let him stay home.

And so after pep talks from both my husband and I about getting back on the horse -- and a small little bribe of -- we can buy a donut on the way to school -- he willingly went. Happily, during the course of the day, his sadness, and discouragement melted way.

I will confess that I am not one for whom parenting comes easily; it seems to for some. And yet I somehow felt that in requiring accountability of our son when he so desperately wanted to be let off the hook, we had parented well.

And, perhaps more importantly, it seemed that our son may now be just a little bit more capable of succeeding on his hero's journey -- not because we said so -- but because he knows so.

Have you recently required accountability of your children or of those over whom you had responsibility? Was it difficult? Why? Why not?

Do you agree with my hypothesis, that we can't really affirm unless we also require accountability?

Do you find that it's easier with some of your charges than others to hold them accountable? (I do -- the more alike me my child is, the more difficult).

Whenever I want to be really kind to myself (something I wish I would want more often), I splurge for a shampoo and style.

Some might call this extravagant.

Perhaps it is.

But given the sense of well-being I have when I leave the salon, it always feels to me like money well-spent.

Especially because, on my latest visit to the salon, it occurred to me that there's a lot that a shampoo and style can teach us about mentoring, and mentoring is integral to daring to dream.

Take the shampoo, for instance.

There aren't a lot of things more self-nurturing than relaxing back in a chair, knowing that capable hands are about to wash my hair, and gently massage my head.

When done well, doesn't mentoring have the same salutary effect? We are figuratively in the charge of competent, and loving hands. As mentors, we, ourselves, are these hands.

After the shampoo, comes a set or style.

When I finally open my eyes after a delightful catnap, I am always struck by my hairdresser's ability to transform what was unkempt, pulled-back-into-a-ponytail, more-often-than-not unwashed hair, into something rather fetching.

Again, there's a comparison to be made. Isn't it true that our most beloved mentors are those that see something magnificent in us that we can’t yet see, and are our see-er, until we can be our own?

And finally there's the quid pro quo, or the give for the get.

Before leaving the salon, I pay and leave a tip. I'm happy to do so because I feel and look great, and the hairdresser is, in turn, happy to be paid.

Though we usually think of a mentoring relationship as assymetrical -- the mentor gives, the mentee receives, I would argue that the most fruitful mentor-mentee relationships do involve some type of quid pro quo.

And it's not necessarily money.

For example, with the children in our lives, our relationship is by definition a mentor-mentee relationship, and then some. But my truth be told, it is much easier to really invest in my kids when for the give, there is some get.

Whether they are obeying me, being kind to one another, making me look good in front of other people (I know, I know -- we all try SO hard not to feel this way, but alas we do), or they are wrapping their arms around me -- and your kids are wrapping their arms around you -- and saying, "I love you mom." In short, if we need some type of get, even with our children, in a mentor-mentee relationship, we absolutely do.

Why is all of this so important?

Because we only really dream when we are together.

And what better metaphor for what we can achieve through systergy, than a salon, shampoo and a style?

When was the last time that you did something nurturing or kind for yourself?

Can you think of someone who sees something wonderful in you? What is it they see? Can you do that for someone else?

When you consider your most satisfying mentoring moments, what were you giving? What were you getting?

Why is it that when we isolate ourselves we don't dream, but when are are together, we do dream?

Katrina van Overbeke just shared with me the website www.change.org, a social network for hundreds of social causes and over 1 million nonprofit organizations. When I went to the site and clicked on the tag Empower Women, it took me to an article, which quoted Muhammad Yunus, the recent winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, as saying, "The more women are empowered, the more fundamentalism is weakened."

Link: Change.org.

Having been on the advisory board of a micro-finance institution in Latin America, I am a strong proponent of micro-finance. As women have the opportunity to bootstrap their way out of poverty, they not only become active members in their community, their children are able to stay in school, thus making potentially even greater contributions to society. To consider the possibility that micro-finance can also be a catalyst for widespread social change is simply breathtaking.

But what does this have to do with you and me and 'dare to dream'?

Everything.

The Intellectual Immigration Fund is, after all, patterned after the micro-finance model, only the deposits and withdrawals are in the form of intellectual capital and encouragement, rather than monies.

And whereas no one will argue with me that in places like the U.S., Canada, and Europe, monies are in relatively ready supply, given the apparent rampant depression in the U.S. (whose root is often repressed anger), I would argue that the ability to trust ourselves, to encourage one another, to move to the center of our lives, is not.

Just think.

If each one of us began to actively make deposits in the Intellectual Immigration Fund, mentoring one another, being the see-er of one another's magnificence until we can see it for ourselves, how many more of us would move to the center of our lives?

And, when we are at the center of our lives -- as an individual, a spouse, a parent, a daughter, a friend -- we are changing the world.

That is indeed breathtaking!

The mentor’s spirit is that productive liberating power that heartens us to….develop into our best selves, [the] who we were born to be. Marsha Sinetar

Now that it’s been almost two weeks, I’m ready to share.

In late 2005, I started taking voice lessons because I wanted to find my literal (and my figurative) voice. Though I am quite competent on the piano, I am neither gifted nor trained vocally. But the quest merits the effort, and thus, I persist.

My lessons were moving along swimmingly until my teacher announced that there would be a vocal recital in April. So keen was I to participate that when the e-mail announcement came around, I impulsively hit the “reply to all” button, notifying my teacher and all her students that I wanted to participate.

But guess what?

When I arrived at my next lesson, she was quite reluctant about my participating in the recital. Never saying no outright, she simply did her best to dissuade me. Fresh off the Ruff Ruffman auditions, I was acutely observant of my teacher’s response – and while her discouraging me could have been to protect me from embarrassment, my interpretation was - she thinks I’m really bad.

Things got worse from there.

A week later, still feeling a bit unraveled, I cancelled my next lesson. When I did so (mind you, 48 hours in advance), she indicated that I had cancelled too many lessons without rescheduling – and that she needed to make a living. Not realizing that this was an issue, I quickly said "my bad" and promised to pay for the missed lessons.

But I was devastated.

Because this e-mail seemed to confirm that she didn’t really have a vision for me, that money was her first priority, and my desire to find my voice was by comparison inconsequential. Not to mention the fact that I wondered, “Am I really so hopeless as a singer that she doesn’t want me to sing in the recital?”

With my tears now dry, I am grateful for this hard bought lesson on the art of encouragement.

For I now KNOW at a very, very deep level that when you or I teach/mentor/make deposits into the Intellectual Immigration fund, though the deposit will, in part, be about us (what do I get for what I give?), the primary reason for mentoring -- whether a stranger, friend, or even a child -- must be because we see something magnificent in her that she can’t yet see, and that we are here, in this moment, to be her see-er until she can be her own.

It just must.

I’ll end with where I began – Marsha Sinetar – “Anyone who intuits our life’s essential vision or themes and somehow affirms these so that we can reach out for them is an artist, an artist of encouragement.”

And when we do encourage another’s best self, becoming an artist of encouragement – well, just think of the masterpieces yet to be wrought, the stories to be recorded and shared…

When you have been with someone that prompts your best self – how do you feel?

For example, Lorna Rousseau, my personal trainer at the gym does an amazing job of encouraging me (sometimes pushing/sometimes pulling) toward physical well-being. I always leave a workout session feeling better no matter my mood when I walk in. My children's school teachers, karate and gymnastics coaches are true artists of encouragement.

Or what about the half dozen people in your life that whenever you see or hear from them, they say something that allows you to see your best self?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to encourage someone within your sphere of influence to be her best self?

Who are the people in your life that you are mentoring or teaching right now, whether professionally or on a volunteer basis? How does this feel?

Are you excited enough about his/her magnificence that the deposits you make on their behalf can be more about them than you?

If your heart doesn’t extend to this person, do you need to find a way to have a change of heart? Or is this simply a signal that both you (the mentor) and the mentee could find more productive, learning relationships elsewhere?

What the mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin. Henry Ward Beecher

“Mom – why are you discouraging me?” asked my 10-year old with frustration. Within a day after auditioning for a local play, and not yet knowing if any of us had gotten parts, I found myself saying: “You know David, there aren’t very many parts for boys your age…. so don’t be too disappointed if you don’t get a part.”

They had just tumbled out. And rather than my son finding these words comforting, he couldn’t understand why I was being so unsupportive. After all, one of our family rules is “Johnson’s support each other.”

But, but, but… I began to defend my words to myself, I’m just trying to protect him. I don’t want him to be disappointed. Oh really? Protect him, or protect me?

“Mom – why are you discouraging me?”

Here I am, day after day, continually encouraging everyone I come in contact with, especially women, to “dare to dream,” but to my child I say “don’t be disappointed if you don’t get it.”

If I’m not saying this to my friends and colleagues, but I am to my children, then it must be partly about me. To badly paraphrase Tolstoy, when it comes to family, we sometimes don’t know where we end, and others begin.

Which begs the question -- did my mother say this to me?

And her mother to her, back through the generations?

More importantly, when we heard our parents utter some variation on the theme of “don’t be disappointed!” did we hear “Honey, I love you?” Or did we instead hear, “I don’t believe in you. I don’t really think you can do this?”

Happily, I can change. You can change.

Which is what I tried to do this past week.

David decided he wanted to go to an open casting call for PBS’s Fetch! with Ruff Ruffman, an Apprentice-style show featuring 10-14 year-old children. Now I knew the odds of his being chosen were small. Not only did I estimate that at least 350 kids auditioned, David just turned 10. And if I were the casting director, I would want the cast to skew older, not younger.

But, because I’m learning, I didn’t say a word.

It was SO hard.

I had to gate those words that wanted to tumble out, begging to sally forth, as if they were caged dogs eager for a run.

But I did it; and went one better.

Instead of saying, “You might be disappointed,” I said, “David, I’m happy that you are figuring out what kinds of things you like, that you took the initiative, that you went after what you wanted.”

We may not have heard words of encouragment from our parents…. but we can do things differently; the children in our lives can hear these words from us. And oh will they ever hear them, because Mum’s is the word.

So, David, -- you came, you saw, you conquered (your fear, and a just a little bit of mine!)

I am so proud of you!

In the few hours after you read this blog, is there someone who is taking on something new -- that is really hard for them -- that you can reach out to (whether a friend, family member, or especially yourself) and say "I am so proud of you?"

If you don’t design a culture, you get one you don’t want. Charlie Hughes, former head of Land Rover, North America

I recently interviewed several law firms in connection with one of my consulting projects. After contacting two all-male teams, I spoke to a third, where one of the partners was a woman. Seemingly out of nowhere came the thought – “I don’t want to hire a woman.” I wasn’t concerned about competence. She had come highly recommended, and after speaking to her I was sold.

So why did this thought flash through my mind?

Because I wasn’t sure how I’d interact with her. Given that I can count on one hand the number of female peers I’ve had in the last five years, I haven’t had much practice working with women in a business setting. Worse yet, I was reluctant to share the inevitable attention that comes with being the only woman on a project.

Whoa – stop right there!!

Here I am encouraging the formation of an Intellectual Immigration fund that allows for women to mentor one another, one that is powered by systergy, and “I don’t want to hire a woman?”

As I examined this pesky thought, I remembered a situation in which I’d had similar feelings. We had just hired a new senior analyst at Merrill Lynch. Andrea Weinberg was covering metals and mining stocks and she was much younger than me so I don’t remember feeling competitive. But, I do remember thinking – I don’t know how to interact with her. Do I treat her like one of the guys? Do I reach out and mentor her? What do I do? It seems I had learned the rules of playing on the boy’s playground so well that I had forgotten how to play with the girls.

Which got me to thinking, analyzing, wanting to understand, and realizing that I have two opposing impulses. I deeply care about and want to mentor and empower women. But I also have learned to play in a keenly competitive world where helping someone may mean I put myself at a disadvantage.

The question then is -- can I reconcile the two?

We needn’t go much further than our local movie theatre to understand the leadership style that is most valued in our society. Think about Harrison Ford in Star Wars, Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible 3. We love the rugged hero – competitive, combative, individualistic.

The traits of these heroes tend to prevail in corporate America, and girls and women are encouraged to adopt these characteristics in order to be successful. However, because women don’t usually instinctively come by these traits, we become even more competitive to prove that we are good enough. So that once we achieve some measure of hard-won success, there can be a piece of us that is reluctant to share our survival techniques (e.g. being the only woman in the room is not only fun, it can actually become a competitive advantage).

But, as demonstrated in the film, based on the book, The Devil Wears Prada, a woman as the rugged, competitive hero doesn’t quite work. Women receive a mixed message: society encourages us to compete like a man, but then condemns us for doing so. In the film, Anne Hathaway’s character is thrown into the competitive world of fashion, and she prevails, only to have her loved ones tell her she’s sold her soul to the devil. Implicit in the story is that for her to get the guy and keep her friends she has to quit the high-powered job. The male hero can prevail AND get the girl. The heroine has to choose: succeed in her ambitions OR get the guy.

My guess is that many women leave the workplace precisely because of this catch-22. It is in large part why I did. A woman enters the business world with her innate leadership style of connecting and caring, but then is encouraged to leave these traits at the door if she wants to succeed. She does so for a time, at least ostensibly, but eventually finds that she values these skills too much to not incorporate them into her work style. She tries to collaborate across departments and mentor junior employees, but her efforts aren’t valued. As a young worker she didn’t have the confidence to go out on her own, but now she does. And so she says: I don’t want this culture any more, I’m going to find a better culture, or create my own.

The irony of this situation is that women are leaving corporate America precisely at a time when our relational skills, those that focus on collaborating and contributing are most in need. Consider Thomas Friedman’s words in the NY-Times bestseller The World is Flat: “Globalization 2.0 was… very vertical—command-and-control oriented [symbolized by the mainframe computer], with companies and their individual departments tending to be organized in vertical silos. Globalization 3.0… has flipped the playing field from largely top-down to more side-to-side [symbolized by the PC and the internet]. This [has] naturally fostered and demanded new business practices, which are less about command and control (traditional male achieving styles) and more about connecting and collaborating horizontally (traditional female achieving styles).”

Did I hire the female attorney?

Yes and no. We hired her firm, but as it turns out we will be working with her partner who happens to be a man.

Did I finally mentor the junior analyst at Merrill Lynch?

Not as well as she I would have liked, but after sort of recognizing what was happening, I made a few clunky attempts.

Did I like "The Devil Wears Prada"?

I LOVED the clothes, but found myself a bit disconsolate when Anne Hathaway’s friends were so critical of her – even after she gifted a very expensive bag to her friend, and especially when she quit her job. I know, I know. It wasn’t her dream job. But what if it had been?

Now, back to my earlier question: Can we reconcile the two impulses? Is it possible to find or create a business culture in which women can thrive and feel empowered to use their innate skills and mentor other women?

I’ve bet my Wall-Street salary on it.

Apart from the Psyche myth (and Jennifer Garner's character in Alias -- sometimes), is there a story in literature or film, in which women succeed at their ambitions and have fulfilling relationships?

Are you already in a business or non-profit situation where you can use your innate skills of connecting, collaborating and mentoring? Tell us more.

Rock climbing and rethinking our competence

I recently went rock climbing for the first time.

Scaling the face of a rock was so far outside my comfort zone that I suspected there was something to be learned about daring and dreaming.

Lesson #1 -- Surround ourselves with heros of support
When Whitney C, our host, asked a group of us who wanted to go rock climbing the next day, I immediately raised my hand. In a quieter moment, my husband expressed surprise and delight; he had fully expected I would stay behind. Five years ago, his prediction would have been accurate. Fear of heights, falling, looking clumsy. Yep, I would have opted out.

Are we surrounding ourselves with people who want us to be the hero of our story? People who, when they see us doing things differently than we have in the past, moving from the sidelines of our life to the center, encourage us? Are we, in turn, heros of support?

Photo courtesy of Kyle Hirsch

Lesson #2 -- Systergy bridges us from imagine to explore
I wanted to climb, but I was scared. Laurel, who had agreed to belay me, not only made sure there was so little slack in the rope that if I lost my footing I wouldn't fall more than a few inches, she continually shouted out "atta girls".

When we want to explore, and showing up is a feat in and of itself, being able to place ourselves in the capable hands of another, often bridges us from imagine to explore. Knowing that Laurel, and her husband Devon, were committed to helping me and the other neophytes in the group was a gift.

Photo courtesy of Seth Neilson

Lesson #3 -- Exploring helps us rethink our competence
Once I’d reached my summit, I was truly proud. By exploring, I had conquered (at least for the moment) my fear of climbing, looking clumsy, and especially of heights.

It is, however, interesting to me that while I love going fast (perhaps because speed is somehow emblematic of ambition), I don't love heights (symbolic of perspective?). When we go fast, we can only see to the horizon; when we go up, we see so so, so, much more. Could it be that our possibilities, indeed our magnificence, albeit glorious, frighten us just a wee bit?

What have you tried recently that you were afraid to do?

Why were you afraid?

Even if you were fairly clumsy, as I was rock climbing, how did you feel afterward?

What role did the people around you play?

What similarities do you see between belaying and mentoring? Parenting?

Are you ever overwhelmed by your own possibilities of who you are and what you can accomplish?

I am. Perhaps I'll try sky diving next.

What do Bewitched, Alias and The Lord of the Rings have in common?

Matt Langdon over at The Hero Workshop recently interviewed me for his Hero Interviews.

He asked only two questions:

Who was your hero as a child and why?

Who are your heros today and why?

If you can believe it, I hadn't ever asked myself these questions, certainly not in a compare and contrast format.

My answers were surprising (the title is your hint), and thus revelatory, and I can't wait to share with you what I've learned.

In the meantime, who are your heros?

Valuing what women do

It was several years ago, but it seems like yesterday.

About a month before Merrill Lynch management was to decide on bonuses, my boss reviewed my various performance metrics, including, among others: did my stock calls make money for our clients, were the clients happy with my service. When he got to the metric "# of phone calls and/or meetings with clients", a number which was 40% higher than the average, he said:

“That's great, but isn't the number of client contacts high because it's fun for you?" The implication being: "I don't know that I need to compensate you for your client interactions (even though it helped drive revenue for the firm) because you're a woman -- and women like to talk on the phone and socialize."

Source: JIFormales, Flickr

With nearly three years of hindsight, here's what I wish I would have said:

“John (that's not his real name), I do like what I do. Correction. I love what I do. I love servicing our clients, and in many instances, I am genuinely fond of them. Aren't you glad that what I "love to do" generates revenue for the firm? Now, let's talk about bonuses for this year..."

In fairness to "John", his attitude is widespread and pervasive. And not just among men.

Let me illustrate by asking you the following two questions:

When you stay at a hotel, how much on average do you tip the bellmen/valets?

How much, on average, do you tip housekeeping?

Said another way, do you pay a lot more to the people (usually men) carrying the luggage that you don't need carried, opening the door you don't need opened, and retrieving the car you could get yourself, than you do to the people (usually women) who clean your room, something that you very much want to be done, and don't want to do yourself?

Now for a "not walking the talk, mea culpa" story:

When I was in Mexico last month, after the bellman hoisted my suitcase (which I could have lifted myself) into the back of a cab, I apologized (apologized!) because I didn’t have any cash on hand for a tip. Just hours before, as a housekeeper put the finishing touches on my room, I thought “I don’t need to pay her; she likes doing what she’s doing."

She likes to make my bed, pick up my towels?

That's not what I said last summer when the person cleaning our family's cruise ship cabin was a man.

We tipped him well, very well.

Hmmm.

Here's my take:

Because nurturing and caring for others tends to be a strong suit for women (I would argue it's innate), when a women gives/helps/mentors, we easily slip into a mindset of "she's doing this because she likes to, and therefore doesn't need to be compensated".

What's sad is... when she (we) aren't compensated for our work, we wonder -- did I not do good work? I'll try and do better next time. Worse yet, do we think -- is what I'm doing not important? Does what I know how to do not matter to society? If it doesn't matter to society, should it matter to me?

And what's especially sad is that when we're in this dump of a place, even a double-dog dare may not be enough to get us to dream.

So, let's change. Not a chump change. Or a small change.

But a big change.

A big wad of cash change.

Some suggestions:

1) The next time one of us goes to a hotel, let's leave a tip for housekeeping. It will be hard. Let's do it anyway.

2) When one of our female friends (or not) offers to provide us with a service – like cutting our hair – and she wants to undercharge, or do it for free, let's tell her we are going to pay market because we value her skill, her work and her time. Note: If money is an issue in the short-term, what about a barter arrangement?

3) Finally, when a woman renders a service, before deciding whether to pay, or how much to pay, let's ask ourselves: If a man were to provide this service to me, would I expect to pay him? If so, how much would I pay?

I'm ready for a big wad of cash change -- how about you?

Blog I Like: HELLOmynameisHeather

I have another terrific blog to share with you:  HELLOmynameisHeather!

1.   Heather's fabric designs are exquisite and happy. 

I believe that looking at beautiful objects, whether fabric, paintings, or flower beds, coaxes us into a 'dare to dream' frame of mind.

2.   Because Heather has gifts that I don't have -- apparel design, styling, photography -- I don't even begin to go to the place of anti-bounty.  I just feel delight when I look at her work. 

We can only be systergistic, helping one another as we dare to dream, when we appreciate others' competencies, as well as our own.

3.   Heather's work inspires me to create.  In 4th grade, I learned how to sew.  I loved buying fabric at San Jose's Pruneyard Mall, and in the succeeding days rushing home from school to sew.  What a sense of satisfaction I derived from making something and wearing it:  I still remember the first thing I made -- a sailor dress out of blue denim kettle cloth.  I wore it on the first day of 5th grade. 

Because I was so captivated by Heather's blog, I can't help but wonder if what I see there is tapping into something more profound than looking at beautiful fabric.  Could it be that her work is a tangible reminder to me (to us?) of how much joy we can have as we create -- whether it's an object, an event, or our lives.

What kinds of things do you do to put you in the frame of mind to dream?

What did you love to do as a child?   Are you still doing it?  If you aren't, what about that activity did you love?  Is is transferable?

Could this cherished childhood activity provide any clues about what you dream of doing?

Is there a website or blog that inspires you to dare to dream?  What is it?

P.S.  Thank you to Macy Robison for introducing me to Heather Bailey's work, and to Typepad Featured blog for the re-introduction.

Telling my Wall Street story

Over the past two days, I've spent several hours visiting with one of my dear friends, Sally Harker, who I worked with at Smith Barney in the mid '90s. She could, but kindly won't, share a firsthand account of my impressive lack of bounty early in my career.

As close friends often do, Sally gave me some constructive feedback about my blog. Which was -- you are encouraging women to tell their story without telling yours. And, for all your readers know, you may be daring them to dream, without having dreamt yourself.

Why don't you share what happened when you first moved to New York?

So, in an attempt to walk-my-talk, here goes:

When I graduated from college at 27 (nope -- not a typo), my husband and I were off to New York City, he to pursue a PhD in molecular biology at Columbia, and me to support us.

Beyond knowing that I had no interest in pursuing music (I finally settled on music after changing my major several times and accumulating 180 credits), I had no idea what I wanted to do, nor was I qualified to do much.

To any future employer, my resume (that I put together only after we had arrived in NY) boiled down to: music major + 2nd-tier university + woman = secretary. Indeed, a month after we arrived, I was hired as a secretary at Smith Barney's 1345 Avenue of the Americas office.

As the year progressed and I was less than completely overwhelmed by Manhattan (for the first week I wouldn't go anywhere without my husband or a friend), and I began to understand what Wall Street was, it occurred to me -- I'm just as smart as the folks on the professional track (e.g. investment banking analysts). I may not have a degree from Princeton, and I may not be an engineer, but I can do this.

Further motivation to "do this" came as I realized I was going to need to work for a very long time. My husband's PhD would take 6-7 years, his post-doctoral work 3-4, and if I continued to work at a low-paying secretarial job, we would be at the poverty level for a decade or more.

I had a decision to make -- job or career, make x or 10x.

Opting for the latter, I began to take business courses at night, while trying to figure out how I was going to jump to the professional track, a jump which would be difficult not only because of my lack of pedigree, but because I was a woman. Also, at nearly 30 years old, I was much older than the typical college graduate.

But a break did come in 1992, nearly 3 1/2 years after arriving in New York. And not surprisingly because of a mentor. My boss at Nomura Securities, Cesar Baez, took a chance on me, bridging for me the often unbridgeable divide between secretary and professional.

You know the rest of the story. If you don't, you can read it on the About page. But, in short, when I left Wall Street in 2005, I had accomplished what I'd set out to do -- and more.

Which is why I suppose Sally wanted me to tell my Wall Street story: she knows that I dare to dream, but she wants you to know too.

Have you thought about who you'd like to invite to subscribe to dare to dream?

Are you going to want to figure out what your dream is?

Or do you want to brainstorm about how to make your dream happen?

The hero's journey and accountability

Just last week, my 10 year-old son David participated in his school's science fair.

As I listened to him explain his "how salt affects water freezing" findings to the mother of one of his classmates, I had one of those moments that parents get every once in awhile, which was: "My child really IS going to know things and do things and be things that will amaze me."

Imagine my surprise the next day when I learned that David had only gotten a 79 on his project.

He was surprised too.

So surprised, and angry, and hurt, that he had a really bad day. It didn't matter that he would have gotten a 92 had he included a bibliography, and finished various intermediate assignments on time; the headline number was 79.

David was so devastated that my husband and I had some decisions to make.

Validating his feelings (angry, sad, frustrated) was a no-brainer. But beyond that, what would the party line be? Were we going to say the teachers hadn't been fair because the strengths of the report mitigated the weaknesses? And what of going to school the next day? He wanted to stay home. Should we let him?

Or did we simply need to say -- we know you're sad, we love you, we know it's hard, but "Johnson's don't give up"?

As we lived through what felt like a pivotal twenty-four hours in our son's life, or at least in our lives as parents, I wondered -- are the children in our society not dreaming and doing because, even as we tell them how capable they are, we don't require accountability?

Meaning, because we don't require accountability, aren't we really saying they aren't capable? Because if we really believed they could pick themselves up when they are down, we wouldn't swoop in. And as we bail our children out, when they are alone, rather than telling themselves -- I can succeed on my hero's journey, I have a contribution to make -- are they instead saying -- I can't succeed, because even my own parents don't think I can?

What's interesting about our family's science fair saga is that many would call me a pushover parent (my kids included), but that day, I wasn't. I was clear, absolutely, certainly clear that just as we couldn't take the accountability for his grade away from him, we couldn't let him stay home.

And so after pep talks from both my husband and I about getting back on the horse -- and a small little bribe of -- we can buy a donut on the way to school -- he willingly went. Happily, during the course of the day, his sadness, and discouragement melted way.

I will confess that I am not one for whom parenting comes easily; it seems to for some. And yet I somehow felt that in requiring accountability of our son when he so desperately wanted to be let off the hook, we had parented well.

And, perhaps more importantly, it seemed that our son may now be just a little bit more capable of succeeding on his hero's journey -- not because we said so -- but because he knows so.

Have you recently required accountability of your children or of those over whom you had responsibility? Was it difficult? Why? Why not?

Do you agree with my hypothesis, that we can't really affirm unless we also require accountability?

Do you find that it's easier with some of your charges than others to hold them accountable? (I do -- the more alike me my child is, the more difficult).

Shampoo, style, and systergy

Whenever I want to be really kind to myself (something I wish I would want more often), I splurge for a shampoo and style.

Some might call this extravagant.

Perhaps it is.

But given the sense of well-being I have when I leave the salon, it always feels to me like money well-spent.

Especially because, on my latest visit to the salon, it occurred to me that there's a lot that a shampoo and style can teach us about mentoring, and mentoring is integral to daring to dream.

Take the shampoo, for instance.

There aren't a lot of things more self-nurturing than relaxing back in a chair, knowing that capable hands are about to wash my hair, and gently massage my head.

When done well, doesn't mentoring have the same salutary effect? We are figuratively in the charge of competent, and loving hands. As mentors, we, ourselves, are these hands.

After the shampoo, comes a set or style.

When I finally open my eyes after a delightful catnap, I am always struck by my hairdresser's ability to transform what was unkempt, pulled-back-into-a-ponytail, more-often-than-not unwashed hair, into something rather fetching.

Again, there's a comparison to be made. Isn't it true that our most beloved mentors are those that see something magnificent in us that we can’t yet see, and are our see-er, until we can be our own?

And finally there's the quid pro quo, or the give for the get.

Before leaving the salon, I pay and leave a tip. I'm happy to do so because I feel and look great, and the hairdresser is, in turn, happy to be paid.

Though we usually think of a mentoring relationship as assymetrical -- the mentor gives, the mentee receives, I would argue that the most fruitful mentor-mentee relationships do involve some type of quid pro quo.

And it's not necessarily money.

For example, with the children in our lives, our relationship is by definition a mentor-mentee relationship, and then some. But my truth be told, it is much easier to really invest in my kids when for the give, there is some get.

Whether they are obeying me, being kind to one another, making me look good in front of other people (I know, I know -- we all try SO hard not to feel this way, but alas we do), or they are wrapping their arms around me -- and your kids are wrapping their arms around you -- and saying, "I love you mom." In short, if we need some type of get, even with our children, in a mentor-mentee relationship, we absolutely do.

Why is all of this so important?

Because we only really dream when we are together.

And what better metaphor for what we can achieve through systergy, than a salon, shampoo and a style?

When was the last time that you did something nurturing or kind for yourself?

Can you think of someone who sees something wonderful in you? What is it they see? Can you do that for someone else?

When you consider your most satisfying mentoring moments, what were you giving? What were you getting?

Why is it that when we isolate ourselves we don't dream, but when are are together, we do dream?

Changing the world

Katrina van Overbeke just shared with me the website www.change.org, a social network for hundreds of social causes and over 1 million nonprofit organizations. When I went to the site and clicked on the tag Empower Women, it took me to an article, which quoted Muhammad Yunus, the recent winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, as saying, "The more women are empowered, the more fundamentalism is weakened."

Link: Change.org.

Having been on the advisory board of a micro-finance institution in Latin America, I am a strong proponent of micro-finance. As women have the opportunity to bootstrap their way out of poverty, they not only become active members in their community, their children are able to stay in school, thus making potentially even greater contributions to society. To consider the possibility that micro-finance can also be a catalyst for widespread social change is simply breathtaking.

But what does this have to do with you and me and 'dare to dream'?

Everything.

The Intellectual Immigration Fund is, after all, patterned after the micro-finance model, only the deposits and withdrawals are in the form of intellectual capital and encouragement, rather than monies.

And whereas no one will argue with me that in places like the U.S., Canada, and Europe, monies are in relatively ready supply, given the apparent rampant depression in the U.S. (whose root is often repressed anger), I would argue that the ability to trust ourselves, to encourage one another, to move to the center of our lives, is not.

Just think.

If each one of us began to actively make deposits in the Intellectual Immigration Fund, mentoring one another, being the see-er of one another's magnificence until we can see it for ourselves, how many more of us would move to the center of our lives?

And, when we are at the center of our lives -- as an individual, a spouse, a parent, a daughter, a friend -- we are changing the world.

That is indeed breathtaking!

An artist of encouragement

The mentor’s spirit is that productive liberating power that heartens us to….develop into our best selves, [the] who we were born to be. Marsha Sinetar

Now that it’s been almost two weeks, I’m ready to share.

In late 2005, I started taking voice lessons because I wanted to find my literal (and my figurative) voice. Though I am quite competent on the piano, I am neither gifted nor trained vocally. But the quest merits the effort, and thus, I persist.

My lessons were moving along swimmingly until my teacher announced that there would be a vocal recital in April. So keen was I to participate that when the e-mail announcement came around, I impulsively hit the “reply to all” button, notifying my teacher and all her students that I wanted to participate.

But guess what?

When I arrived at my next lesson, she was quite reluctant about my participating in the recital. Never saying no outright, she simply did her best to dissuade me. Fresh off the Ruff Ruffman auditions, I was acutely observant of my teacher’s response – and while her discouraging me could have been to protect me from embarrassment, my interpretation was - she thinks I’m really bad.

Things got worse from there.

A week later, still feeling a bit unraveled, I cancelled my next lesson. When I did so (mind you, 48 hours in advance), she indicated that I had cancelled too many lessons without rescheduling – and that she needed to make a living. Not realizing that this was an issue, I quickly said "my bad" and promised to pay for the missed lessons.

But I was devastated.

Because this e-mail seemed to confirm that she didn’t really have a vision for me, that money was her first priority, and my desire to find my voice was by comparison inconsequential. Not to mention the fact that I wondered, “Am I really so hopeless as a singer that she doesn’t want me to sing in the recital?”

With my tears now dry, I am grateful for this hard bought lesson on the art of encouragement.

For I now KNOW at a very, very deep level that when you or I teach/mentor/make deposits into the Intellectual Immigration fund, though the deposit will, in part, be about us (what do I get for what I give?), the primary reason for mentoring -- whether a stranger, friend, or even a child -- must be because we see something magnificent in her that she can’t yet see, and that we are here, in this moment, to be her see-er until she can be her own.

It just must.

I’ll end with where I began – Marsha Sinetar – “Anyone who intuits our life’s essential vision or themes and somehow affirms these so that we can reach out for them is an artist, an artist of encouragement.”

And when we do encourage another’s best self, becoming an artist of encouragement – well, just think of the masterpieces yet to be wrought, the stories to be recorded and shared…

When you have been with someone that prompts your best self – how do you feel?

For example, Lorna Rousseau, my personal trainer at the gym does an amazing job of encouraging me (sometimes pushing/sometimes pulling) toward physical well-being. I always leave a workout session feeling better no matter my mood when I walk in. My children's school teachers, karate and gymnastics coaches are true artists of encouragement.

Or what about the half dozen people in your life that whenever you see or hear from them, they say something that allows you to see your best self?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to encourage someone within your sphere of influence to be her best self?

Who are the people in your life that you are mentoring or teaching right now, whether professionally or on a volunteer basis? How does this feel?

Are you excited enough about his/her magnificence that the deposits you make on their behalf can be more about them than you?

If your heart doesn’t extend to this person, do you need to find a way to have a change of heart? Or is this simply a signal that both you (the mentor) and the mentee could find more productive, learning relationships elsewhere?

What the mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin. Henry Ward Beecher

“Mom – why are you discouraging me?” asked my 10-year old with frustration. Within a day after auditioning for a local play, and not yet knowing if any of us had gotten parts, I found myself saying: “You know David, there aren’t very many parts for boys your age…. so don’t be too disappointed if you don’t get a part.”

They had just tumbled out. And rather than my son finding these words comforting, he couldn’t understand why I was being so unsupportive. After all, one of our family rules is “Johnson’s support each other.”

But, but, but… I began to defend my words to myself, I’m just trying to protect him. I don’t want him to be disappointed. Oh really? Protect him, or protect me?

“Mom – why are you discouraging me?”

Here I am, day after day, continually encouraging everyone I come in contact with, especially women, to “dare to dream,” but to my child I say “don’t be disappointed if you don’t get it.”

If I’m not saying this to my friends and colleagues, but I am to my children, then it must be partly about me. To badly paraphrase Tolstoy, when it comes to family, we sometimes don’t know where we end, and others begin.

Which begs the question -- did my mother say this to me?

And her mother to her, back through the generations?

More importantly, when we heard our parents utter some variation on the theme of “don’t be disappointed!” did we hear “Honey, I love you?” Or did we instead hear, “I don’t believe in you. I don’t really think you can do this?”

Happily, I can change. You can change.

Which is what I tried to do this past week.

David decided he wanted to go to an open casting call for PBS’s Fetch! with Ruff Ruffman, an Apprentice-style show featuring 10-14 year-old children. Now I knew the odds of his being chosen were small. Not only did I estimate that at least 350 kids auditioned, David just turned 10. And if I were the casting director, I would want the cast to skew older, not younger.

But, because I’m learning, I didn’t say a word.

It was SO hard.

I had to gate those words that wanted to tumble out, begging to sally forth, as if they were caged dogs eager for a run.

But I did it; and went one better.

Instead of saying, “You might be disappointed,” I said, “David, I’m happy that you are figuring out what kinds of things you like, that you took the initiative, that you went after what you wanted.”

We may not have heard words of encouragment from our parents…. but we can do things differently; the children in our lives can hear these words from us. And oh will they ever hear them, because Mum’s is the word.

So, David, -- you came, you saw, you conquered (your fear, and a just a little bit of mine!)

I am so proud of you!

In the few hours after you read this blog, is there someone who is taking on something new -- that is really hard for them -- that you can reach out to (whether a friend, family member, or especially yourself) and say "I am so proud of you?"

If you don’t design a culture, you get one you don’t want. Charlie Hughes, former head of Land Rover, North America

I recently interviewed several law firms in connection with one of my consulting projects. After contacting two all-male teams, I spoke to a third, where one of the partners was a woman. Seemingly out of nowhere came the thought – “I don’t want to hire a woman.” I wasn’t concerned about competence. She had come highly recommended, and after speaking to her I was sold.

So why did this thought flash through my mind?

Because I wasn’t sure how I’d interact with her. Given that I can count on one hand the number of female peers I’ve had in the last five years, I haven’t had much practice working with women in a business setting. Worse yet, I was reluctant to share the inevitable attention that comes with being the only woman on a project.

Whoa – stop right there!!

Here I am encouraging the formation of an Intellectual Immigration fund that allows for women to mentor one another, one that is powered by systergy, and “I don’t want to hire a woman?”

As I examined this pesky thought, I remembered a situation in which I’d had similar feelings. We had just hired a new senior analyst at Merrill Lynch. Andrea Weinberg was covering metals and mining stocks and she was much younger than me so I don’t remember feeling competitive. But, I do remember thinking – I don’t know how to interact with her. Do I treat her like one of the guys? Do I reach out and mentor her? What do I do? It seems I had learned the rules of playing on the boy’s playground so well that I had forgotten how to play with the girls.

Which got me to thinking, analyzing, wanting to understand, and realizing that I have two opposing impulses. I deeply care about and want to mentor and empower women. But I also have learned to play in a keenly competitive world where helping someone may mean I put myself at a disadvantage.

The question then is -- can I reconcile the two?

We needn’t go much further than our local movie theatre to understand the leadership style that is most valued in our society. Think about Harrison Ford in Star Wars, Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible 3. We love the rugged hero – competitive, combative, individualistic.

The traits of these heroes tend to prevail in corporate America, and girls and women are encouraged to adopt these characteristics in order to be successful. However, because women don’t usually instinctively come by these traits, we become even more competitive to prove that we are good enough. So that once we achieve some measure of hard-won success, there can be a piece of us that is reluctant to share our survival techniques (e.g. being the only woman in the room is not only fun, it can actually become a competitive advantage).

But, as demonstrated in the film, based on the book, The Devil Wears Prada, a woman as the rugged, competitive hero doesn’t quite work. Women receive a mixed message: society encourages us to compete like a man, but then condemns us for doing so. In the film, Anne Hathaway’s character is thrown into the competitive world of fashion, and she prevails, only to have her loved ones tell her she’s sold her soul to the devil. Implicit in the story is that for her to get the guy and keep her friends she has to quit the high-powered job. The male hero can prevail AND get the girl. The heroine has to choose: succeed in her ambitions OR get the guy.

My guess is that many women leave the workplace precisely because of this catch-22. It is in large part why I did. A woman enters the business world with her innate leadership style of connecting and caring, but then is encouraged to leave these traits at the door if she wants to succeed. She does so for a time, at least ostensibly, but eventually finds that she values these skills too much to not incorporate them into her work style. She tries to collaborate across departments and mentor junior employees, but her efforts aren’t valued. As a young worker she didn’t have the confidence to go out on her own, but now she does. And so she says: I don’t want this culture any more, I’m going to find a better culture, or create my own.

The irony of this situation is that women are leaving corporate America precisely at a time when our relational skills, those that focus on collaborating and contributing are most in need. Consider Thomas Friedman’s words in the NY-Times bestseller The World is Flat: “Globalization 2.0 was… very vertical—command-and-control oriented [symbolized by the mainframe computer], with companies and their individual departments tending to be organized in vertical silos. Globalization 3.0… has flipped the playing field from largely top-down to more side-to-side [symbolized by the PC and the internet]. This [has] naturally fostered and demanded new business practices, which are less about command and control (traditional male achieving styles) and more about connecting and collaborating horizontally (traditional female achieving styles).”

Did I hire the female attorney?

Yes and no. We hired her firm, but as it turns out we will be working with her partner who happens to be a man.

Did I finally mentor the junior analyst at Merrill Lynch?

Not as well as she I would have liked, but after sort of recognizing what was happening, I made a few clunky attempts.

Did I like "The Devil Wears Prada"?

I LOVED the clothes, but found myself a bit disconsolate when Anne Hathaway’s friends were so critical of her – even after she gifted a very expensive bag to her friend, and especially when she quit her job. I know, I know. It wasn’t her dream job. But what if it had been?

Now, back to my earlier question: Can we reconcile the two impulses? Is it possible to find or create a business culture in which women can thrive and feel empowered to use their innate skills and mentor other women?

I’ve bet my Wall-Street salary on it.

Apart from the Psyche myth (and Jennifer Garner's character in Alias -- sometimes), is there a story in literature or film, in which women succeed at their ambitions and have fulfilling relationships?

Are you already in a business or non-profit situation where you can use your innate skills of connecting, collaborating and mentoring? Tell us more.

Mum's the word

What the mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin. Henry Ward Beecher

“Mom – why are you discouraging me?” asked my 10-year old with frustration. Within a day after auditioning for a local play, and not yet knowing if any of us had gotten parts, I found myself saying: “You know David, there aren’t very many parts for boys your age…. so don’t be too disappointed if you don’t get a part.”

They had just tumbled out. And rather than my son finding these words comforting, he couldn’t understand why I was being so unsupportive. After all, one of our family rules is “Johnson’s support each other.”

But, but, but… I began to defend my words to myself, I’m just trying to protect him. I don’t want him to be disappointed. Oh really? Protect him, or protect me?

“Mom – why are you discouraging me?”

Here I am, day after day, continually encouraging everyone I come in contact with, especially women, to “dare to dream,” but to my child I say “don’t be disappointed if you don’t get it.”

If I’m not saying this to my friends and colleagues, but I am to my children, then it must be partly about me. To badly paraphrase Tolstoy, when it comes to family, we sometimes don’t know where we end, and others begin.

Which begs the question -- did my mother say this to me?

And her mother to her, back through the generations?

More importantly, when we heard our parents utter some variation on the theme of “don’t be disappointed!” did we hear “Honey, I love you?” Or did we instead hear, “I don’t believe in you. I don’t really think you can do this?”

Happily, I can change. You can change.

Which is what I tried to do this past week.

David decided he wanted to go to an open casting call for PBS’s Fetch! with Ruff Ruffman, an Apprentice-style show featuring 10-14 year-old children. Now I knew the odds of his being chosen were small. Not only did I estimate that at least 350 kids auditioned, David just turned 10. And if I were the casting director, I would want the cast to skew older, not younger.

But, because I’m learning, I didn’t say a word.

It was SO hard.

I had to gate those words that wanted to tumble out, begging to sally forth, as if they were caged dogs eager for a run.

But I did it; and went one better.

Instead of saying, “You might be disappointed,” I said, “David, I’m happy that you are figuring out what kinds of things you like, that you took the initiative, that you went after what you wanted.”

We may not have heard words of encouragment from our parents…. but we can do things differently; the children in our lives can hear these words from us. And oh will they ever hear them, because Mum’s is the word.

So, David, -- you came, you saw, you conquered (your fear, and a just a little bit of mine!)

I am so proud of you!

In the few hours after you read this blog, is there someone who is taking on something new -- that is really hard for them -- that you can reach out to (whether a friend, family member, or especially yourself) and say "I am so proud of you?"

Do you need to Do-it-yourself?

If you don’t design a culture, you get one you don’t want. Charlie Hughes, former head of Land Rover, North America

I recently interviewed several law firms in connection with one of my consulting projects. After contacting two all-male teams, I spoke to a third, where one of the partners was a woman. Seemingly out of nowhere came the thought – “I don’t want to hire a woman.” I wasn’t concerned about competence. She had come highly recommended, and after speaking to her I was sold.

So why did this thought flash through my mind?

Because I wasn’t sure how I’d interact with her. Given that I can count on one hand the number of female peers I’ve had in the last five years, I haven’t had much practice working with women in a business setting. Worse yet, I was reluctant to share the inevitable attention that comes with being the only woman on a project.

Whoa – stop right there!!

Here I am encouraging the formation of an Intellectual Immigration fund that allows for women to mentor one another, one that is powered by systergy, and “I don’t want to hire a woman?”

As I examined this pesky thought, I remembered a situation in which I’d had similar feelings. We had just hired a new senior analyst at Merrill Lynch. Andrea Weinberg was covering metals and mining stocks and she was much younger than me so I don’t remember feeling competitive. But, I do remember thinking – I don’t know how to interact with her. Do I treat her like one of the guys? Do I reach out and mentor her? What do I do? It seems I had learned the rules of playing on the boy’s playground so well that I had forgotten how to play with the girls.

Which got me to thinking, analyzing, wanting to understand, and realizing that I have two opposing impulses. I deeply care about and want to mentor and empower women. But I also have learned to play in a keenly competitive world where helping someone may mean I put myself at a disadvantage.

The question then is -- can I reconcile the two?

We needn’t go much further than our local movie theatre to understand the leadership style that is most valued in our society. Think about Harrison Ford in Star Wars, Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible 3. We love the rugged hero – competitive, combative, individualistic.

The traits of these heroes tend to prevail in corporate America, and girls and women are encouraged to adopt these characteristics in order to be successful. However, because women don’t usually instinctively come by these traits, we become even more competitive to prove that we are good enough. So that once we achieve some measure of hard-won success, there can be a piece of us that is reluctant to share our survival techniques (e.g. being the only woman in the room is not only fun, it can actually become a competitive advantage).

But, as demonstrated in the film, based on the book, The Devil Wears Prada, a woman as the rugged, competitive hero doesn’t quite work. Women receive a mixed message: society encourages us to compete like a man, but then condemns us for doing so. In the film, Anne Hathaway’s character is thrown into the competitive world of fashion, and she prevails, only to have her loved ones tell her she’s sold her soul to the devil. Implicit in the story is that for her to get the guy and keep her friends she has to quit the high-powered job. The male hero can prevail AND get the girl. The heroine has to choose: succeed in her ambitions OR get the guy.

My guess is that many women leave the workplace precisely because of this catch-22. It is in large part why I did. A woman enters the business world with her innate leadership style of connecting and caring, but then is encouraged to leave these traits at the door if she wants to succeed. She does so for a time, at least ostensibly, but eventually finds that she values these skills too much to not incorporate them into her work style. She tries to collaborate across departments and mentor junior employees, but her efforts aren’t valued. As a young worker she didn’t have the confidence to go out on her own, but now she does. And so she says: I don’t want this culture any more, I’m going to find a better culture, or create my own.

The irony of this situation is that women are leaving corporate America precisely at a time when our relational skills, those that focus on collaborating and contributing are most in need. Consider Thomas Friedman’s words in the NY-Times bestseller The World is Flat: “Globalization 2.0 was… very vertical—command-and-control oriented [symbolized by the mainframe computer], with companies and their individual departments tending to be organized in vertical silos. Globalization 3.0… has flipped the playing field from largely top-down to more side-to-side [symbolized by the PC and the internet]. This [has] naturally fostered and demanded new business practices, which are less about command and control (traditional male achieving styles) and more about connecting and collaborating horizontally (traditional female achieving styles).”

Did I hire the female attorney?

Yes and no. We hired her firm, but as it turns out we will be working with her partner who happens to be a man.

Did I finally mentor the junior analyst at Merrill Lynch?

Not as well as she I would have liked, but after sort of recognizing what was happening, I made a few clunky attempts.

Did I like "The Devil Wears Prada"?

I LOVED the clothes, but found myself a bit disconsolate when Anne Hathaway’s friends were so critical of her – even after she gifted a very expensive bag to her friend, and especially when she quit her job. I know, I know. It wasn’t her dream job. But what if it had been?

Now, back to my earlier question: Can we reconcile the two impulses? Is it possible to find or create a business culture in which women can thrive and feel empowered to use their innate skills and mentor other women?

I’ve bet my Wall-Street salary on it.

Apart from the Psyche myth (and Jennifer Garner's character in Alias -- sometimes), is there a story in literature or film, in which women succeed at their ambitions and have fulfilling relationships?

Are you already in a business or non-profit situation where you can use your innate skills of connecting, collaborating and mentoring? Tell us more.