dare to dream

The Optimist Challenge (Update)

Whoops.

I promised that I would report back on Memorial Day Weekend re: the Optimist's Challenge, and here it is Father's Day.

Public accountability is a beautiful thing -- except when it's not.

Here's what I committed to do for one month:

1. Wake up and write down what I am worrying about -- just the facts.
2. Write down the story I am telling myself about the facts.
3. Work to write the most conceivably optimistic story I can tell myself based on the same incontrovertible facts.

Here's what I can report:

1. I completed the actual exercise 2-3x a week, less than I aspired to do, more than I would have otherwise done.
2. I was overly optimistic about my ability to be optimistic.
3. What I think I'm pessimistic about can be symptomatic:  I often need to peel the onion some before discovering why I'm really pessimistic. 
4. Even when I didn't write things down, I observed myself a lot, my patterns of thinking -- revealing.
5. On the days when I wrote an optimist's version, I felt immediately more sunny, and physically more energetic -- staggeringly so.

***

Beause this is something new to me, baby steps seem to be required.  So, I'm going to provide another update on July 3, compress the timeframe. 

In the meantime, here is some of what I've been reading/thinking on the topic: 

Seth Godin's Linchpin:  I especially love page 127 -- Signs that your lizard brain is at work.  Here's a YouTube video preview of his book. 

For something totally different and more personal, read Laurel Christensen's blog post: Optimist Experiment

Or, organizational psychologist Heidi Grant Halvorson's Be an Optimist Without Being a Fool.

***

For those of you that took this Challenge, what have you learned?  Or in the words of Tom DeLong, have you, as have I, had the opportunity to do poorly along your way to doing well?

Self-direction and problem-solving: a foundation for dreaming

Summer vacation is a carefree, buoyant season.

But who of us hasn't felt a smidgen of guilt because our children are, in our view not theirs, enjoying too much unstructured time?  Alternatively, we may find ourselves in a whirl, exhausted from so many activities, wishing we would give ourselves permission to slow down.

Regardless of which camp you tend to, I'd recommend this thought-provoking, if not comforting, piece It's Not About You by NY Times reporter David Brooks.  Here's an excerpt:

This year’s graduates are members of the most supervised generation in American history. Through their childhoods and teenage years, they have been monitored, tutored, coached and honed to an unprecedented degree. Yet upon graduation they will enter a world that is unprecedentedly wide open and unstructured... No one would design a system of extreme supervision to prepare people for a decade of extreme openness. But this is exactly what has emerged in modern America.

***

Another takeaway:  I re-remembered that most of us don't find our dreams; our dreams instead find us in the guise of problems to be solved. (Though my experience is consistent with his thesis, I wonder if in my mind, I've actually framed it this way.)  As we solve our problems, and gain competencies, we build the foundation upon which our dreams can be achieved.

Most successful young people don’t look inside and then plan a life. They look outside and find a problem, which summons their life. A relative suffers from Alzheimer’s and a young woman feels called to help cure that disease. A young man works under a miserable boss and must develop management skills so his department can function. Another young woman finds herself confronted by an opportunity she never thought of in a job category she never imagined. This wasn’t in her plans, but this is where she can make her contribution. Most people don’t form a self and then lead a life. They are called by a problem, and the self is constructed gradually by their calling.

Problems summon our dreams, our life.  And, it's in the unstructured time that we learn to self-direct, to learn to problem-solve. 

What's your take?

What problems have you solved that laid the foundation for your dreams?  What opportunities are you providing you children to self-direct? 

If you enjoyed this Brooks' op-ed, you may also enjoy The Summoned Self.

Hold your dream close: What I learned in the recording studio

On a sunny and warm September morning, I walked into a recording studio for the first time.  The building exterior was non-descript, but inside there was shelf upon shelf of musical instruments, lots of recording equipment, and a grand piano. I was there to play piano for Macy Robison's cabaret-style recital Children Will Listen, in advance of her Time Out for Women (TOFW) performances in 2011, and I was "pinch-myself" thrilled.

I had accompanied Macy for several of her live performances, but I'm not a professional musician.  In order to get the best recording possible, I expected the TOFW producers to hire a professional musician, one who could easily "out-scale and arpeggio" me.  But neither they nor Macy opted for a professional, they wanted me.

Upon entering the studio, I was eager, but relaxed.  The calm was short-lived.  Within minutes of  meeting producer Tyler Castleton, who also composed In the Meantime (one of the songs we were about to record) and audio engineer Mike Greene, the taskmaster in my head (maybe you've met her/him) started in on me:  "Tyler and Mike are professionals.  I'm not.  They are going to think I'm lousy.  I am lousy.  I'm going to let Macy down.  This is supposed to be about her and her dream and it's becoming about me.  How selfish.  Why did I think I could do this?" Inside the recording studio, where the photo shop for your ears happens

The first song we record is Tyler's In the Meantime.  It's a new arrangement.  I've been on the road.  I haven't practiced.  It's not in my fingers.  I play badly.  We try Grateful.  Also a new arrangement.  I continue to play poorly.

After several lousy takes, I put everything on pause.  I'll practice these tonight.  Let's move on to something we've polished.  A first take of Just a Housewife. A second take, and then another.  Ah... better.  I'm not accustomed to multiple takes.  In a performance, you get one shot and then move on.  In a studio, the first performance is a warm-up, and you keep warming up, until you've recorded the song 5-6 times.  Once you get the hardest parts recorded, you breathe easier, because you know that a great audio engineer can string together the best of the takes.

Next we record Children Will Listen, When I Grow Up, the easiet piece by far, which I also play poorly.  The taskmaster in my mind has backed off a bit, but feels compelled to remind me she's there.  On to two of my favorites, Simple Little Things and I Won't Mind. The playbacks sound pretty good.  Macy quips -- "If I can listen to myself over and over again, and not hate it, then it's probably ok."  By the way, her singing isn't just ok.  She sounds fabulous, especially given that she's six months pregnant.  Macy's telling a story not only with her words, but with the richness and texture of her voice.  She's also unflappable.  If she's nervous, she's got an impressive poker face.

Macy Robison at the microphone, about to deliver up some magic

Things continue to improve after lunch.  Around 4pm, day one is complete.  We've run through every song at least once.   There are some good takes.  I'm no longer mortified.  In fact, I think we're both confident the album will be good, a lovely post-Time Out for Women memento.

There's only one little problem.

As I wrote in The Stories We Tell Ourselves, I loved the piano as a child, but by the time I was a teenager, music had become a drudgery.   Since moving to Boston, as I accompanied/collaborated with Vanessa Quigley, and then Macy, my love of music had re-emerged.  I began to remember that I loved piano; to cherish my talent.  But that afternoon, as I walked out of the studio, I could feel the happiness slipping away, sadness seeping in.

Me at the piano, slogging

But I'd lost this dream once. I couldn't let it happen again. I had twelve hours to get the dream back -- to get myself in a place where I could walk out of the studio on day two, brimming with, not bereft of happiness. 

I got to work. I practiced In the Meantime and Grateful in the hotel lobby.   A little embarrassing.  But when you're fighting for something, you do what you must.  And then I really got to work.  I reviewed what I'd written in my journal, and reinforced what I'd written by reaching out to a few trusted friends for pep talks.

Here's what I needed to remember:

Whenever piano becomes about performing -- of proving something -- of being perfect, I rarely play well.  Like Sisyphus, I can never roll the stone up the hill of my expectations.  Even if I could play perfectly, the lesson I've learned from Lady Galadriel is that when we seek adulation, we despair.   Perhaps too that's what the biblical passage about charity was trying to convey: when what we do is about connecting with, rather than impressing, others, we will succeed, regardless of how many "mistakes" we make, because charity never faileth.  

As Day 2 dawned, I had neutralized the taskmaster by planning on mistakes, lots of them.  More importantly, my focus shifted from me to Macy, to providing a foundation upon which she could build in order to communicate, in a way that words cannot, how important mothering is.

And everything changed; the joy was back.

Macy Robison and Whitney Johnson, End of Day Two -- Happy

Sometimes dreams begin to slip away.  If and when they do, fight for them.  My friend Cara Quinn, a gifted pianist, who has at times practiced 10 hours a day, is now a mother of five children under the age of 10.  She holds her dream close by practicing every evening from 9-11 after her children go to bed. Amidst the handling the logistics of being a published author and the mechanics of mothering, author Julie Berry holds tight her love of writing by occasionally reminding herself why she writes.

Do you have a taskmaster with whom you contend?   Do you record in your journal what you've said or done in the past so you can refer to it?  Who are your go-to people when you get sidelined and need help getting back in your game?

Are you holding your dream close?  Fighting for it, if need be?

Configuring a space for our dreams

We just moved closer to Boston last week -- only 30 miles east, but a seismic shift in many ways.  So I'm thinking a lot about management consultant Tom Peters' thoughts on space configuration.

Here's a quick snippet from the 2-minute YouTube video clip, which you can watch as well.

“If I live within 100 feet of you, in the course of a week, you and I will cross paths or go to the bathroom or whatever, and we’ll talk with each other seven times, let’s say. If you’re more than 100 feet, I won’t see you or I won’t talk to you more than once a month.”

To me, Tom Peters' ideas have profound implications for our dreaming.  For example: 

If one of your dreams is to have a closer relationship with loved ones, whether family or friends, but you don't live near one another, what are you doing to achieve proximity despite the distance? 

In addition to physical distance, there's emotional distance -- as teenagers individuate, for instance.   Are we making time to be beside them while they are doing whatever they want to be doing, just to be with them?  Making the effort to be a part of their space, on their terms? 

What about dreams for you?  If you want to write or run or be alone (so you can figure out what your dream is), is there a place for you?  A time allotted?

Thoughts?

P.S.  Here's a piece I wrote when we first started the hedge fund about space. 

She Negotiates: Part 3 of 4

It's Week 3 of my class She Negotiates.

This course definitely has the highest educational ROI (return on investment) in years.  Following is more of what I've learned, including a success story.

Value-claiming vs. Value-expanding negotiation -- According to one of our instructors Vickie Pynchon, there are two types of negotiation:

1. "Value claiming" negotiation in which you ask for more of the "fixed pie" of apparently limited resources. This is also called "distributive" bargaining because the parties to this type of negotiation are attempting to distribute the (limited) resources between them.  
2. Interest-based "value expanding" negotiation in which resources are not limited, and can actually be expanded such that both parties work productively toward a mutually agreeable resolution. 

Source:  istockphoto

Most women are comfortable with and good at finding a win-win.  But a win-win resolution isn't always a possibility.  To put this in the extreme, when negotiating with the professional or personal equivalent of terrorists, there isn't a win-win.  You need to win, the other needs to lose. 

But even under normal circumstances, we can't always broker a win-win. Not because there's a right or wrong, but because we have to set priorities. It needs to be a no-gotiation, until we can say yes.  Learning to claim a place for our dream, whether time, space, or money is required, may lead to a temporary win-lose dynamic.  To give you an idea of how uncomfortable this may feel, during a practice session, I was tapped to role play 'winner-takes-all' in negotiating the purchase of a sofa.  Upon the assignment,  I immediately felt myself shrink, a pit forming in my stomach at the thought of winning at someone else's expense, because that's not what nice girls do.

Value-expanding negotiation:  the importance of asking questions -- Whether negotiating with our son or daughter about doing their homework in two hours rather than right now or asking for a raise, according to Ms. Pynchon, "our success as a negotiator depends on learning to get over there by asking open-ended questions (who, what, when, where, why) that reveal your bargaining partner's fears, needs, desires, preferences and priorities." 

Source:  istockphoto

I was surprised that I couldn't readily do this, especially because I've been told by many-a-person that I am a great question-asker.  What I figured out, by way of an observation made by our instructor Lisa Gates, that in a mission-critical situation (e.g. loved ones) I default to mind-reading.  When we try to read minds, any flawed assumptions we might have get reinforced, and potentially erode our relationships.

I have since resolved to practice asking diagnostic questions.  I even did it over lunch with my son last weekend.  It was recommended that we never negotiate until we've broken bread with our bargaining partner:  breaking bread together releases oxytocin, builds trust, makes it more difficult for people to be unaccommodating.  I frequently quip, "all the world's problems can be resolved over lunch".  It seems this just might be true.

A Success Story:  Turning Lemons into Lemonade -- Speaking of ROI, last week one of our computers broke.  It wasn't the first time. As the computer is still under warranty, my husband took it to the dealer.  As a consequence of my sharing with him what I've learned in this negotiation course, my husband asked the repair staff to look up how many times the computer had been in for repairs (information gathering).  The staffer answered five, including replacement of the hard drive and logic board. 

Source:  istockphoto

My husband responded with "You know, I'm never going to let the warranty expire on this computer; it's been kind of a lemon.  Wouldn't it be cheaper if you just replaced it with a new one?"  (persuasive argument with the ask) A brief discussion with the manager ensued (someone who had authority) and my husband walked out of the store with a new $1,600 computer.

*** 

What are your thoughts?

Have you experienced the temporary win-lose dynamic -- was it uncomfortable?

When did you last ask open-ended questions? What happened?

Who have you gone to lunch with recently?

Do you have a negotiating success story?

What would you like to know about what I'm learning that I haven't mentioned? 

She Negotiates: Part 2 of 4

It's Week 2 of my class She Negotiates; below are some snippets.

1.  Definition -- Negotiation is a conversation in which two people with apparently conflicting interests reach an agreement.   Many view negotiation as win-lose:  one person wins, the other loses, a zero-sum game. But negotiation can be win-win:  both parties collaborate to win, everyone is happy.  Women tend toward the latter.

2)  Experimenting -- Check out this blog The Daily Asker. in which the blogger documents her year-long experiment of asking for something daily.  Compelling and inspiring.  As we ask, we will likely get bumped around.  I know I did this week.  According to a NY Times article, Our Scars Tell the Stories of Our Lives, "scars are a sign of optimism."  I guess that means I'm optimistic.  Very.

3)  Discovering -- As I work through the mini-assignments, I'm recognizing that negotiating is a competency you and I can acquire.  When we negotiate we are learning to say say 'yes' and 'no', to make choices about who we want to be, and to act and not be acted upon -- all are requisite for making our dreams happen. 

Source:  istockphoto

I'm also discovering that this can be a lot of fun, like a game, one at which we all can win.  In the words of one of our instructors Lisa Gates, "Doesn't it feel powerfully creative to know that you have all these toys in your treasure chest, or chocolate-covered cherries in your candy assortment?"  Yes, Lisa, it does.

***

What if each of us were to ask for something every day for a week?

When you negotiate, do you view it as a win-lose, or a win-win?  Does it depend on who you are negotiating with?

What was the last thing you negotiated?  What happened?

What were negotiations like in your family growing up?  How are they different now?

What toys would you like to add to your treasure chest?

Our Inner Goliath

If I were to ask, "Who do you most relate to -- David or Goliath?", most of us would answer, "David".  And that's a good thing.

But before we go in-depth (in another post) on the David archetype, let's consider for a moment that we might want to -- and can -- tap into our inner Goliath as well.   

In Malcolm Gladwell's May 2009 article How David Beats Goliath, he cites political scientist Ivan Arreguin-Toft who has analyzed every war fought between strong and weak combatants over the past 200 years.  "The Goliaths, those in which the stronger side was at least 10x more powerful, in terms of armed might and population", he found, "won in 71.5% per cent of the cases."

You may be thinking -- I like those odds, but when am I ever in a situation where I am 10x more powerful than my opponent?

More often than we believe.

Whether making something happen for ourselves, our family, business, or community -- power comes when we play to our strengths.  In war, strength is defined as "armed might and population".  In tacking life's challenges, strength(s), according to Dr. Laura Morgan Roberts, can be defined as:

1.    Our innate talents.
2.    The competencies we've developed;
3.    What we believe (our principles);
4.    Our identities (gender, race, ethnicity, religion).

What are your strengths?

Are they so much a part of who you are you don't recognize them?

Once you identify them, will you own them?

If we really believed that the odds of success were in our favor 7 out of 10 times, as did Goliath, how much more would we take on?

Men's Health: What Women Can Teach Men About Real Strength

A few months ago Richard Conniff interviewed me for an article in Men's Health Magazine titled What Women Can Teach Men About Real Strength:  Workplace Lessons from Women.  

Conniff writes, "In the modern workplace, the best way for a man to succeed might actually be to suppress his caveman and try to think like a woman instead.  It's not about acting like a woman. People respond badly to what psychologists call "gender rule violations." Nor is anyone suggesting that women always make ideal employees. They can be just as stupid as men can be.

Source:  istockphoto

But the case for learning a few basic skills from the so-called weaker sex is simple: Women are succeeding in a time when men generally aren't. Four out of five jobs lost in the current recession belonged to men. (It's been dubbed the "he-cession.") Male-dominated construction and manufacturing sectors are taking the hardest hits."

I'd read the whole article, but if you'd like to go to where I'm quoted, you can click on the below links.

• Overview
• Don't Think Just Inside the Company
• It's Not Just About the Money

There were so many interesting points.  What caught your attention?  As you share your thoughts, I'll talk back more than usual.  Not in the saucy sort of way I did to my mother as a teenager, but politely -- a civil discourse or dialogue. This could be fun!

In thinking about what men can learn from women, what can women learn from men?  Specifically, if we revisit the Psyche Myth, and take a look at the helpers (ants, eagle, etc) as skills that men in our lives may have already mastered, what can we learn from our husbands, sons, brothers, colleagues?

Eunice, we hardly knew you...

I would encourage you to read Sisterhood's special bond, a piece eulogizing Eunice Kennedy Shriver.

Boston Globe columnist Yvonne Abraham begins, "She has been remembered as the sister of Jack, Bobby, and Teddy.  But if you must think of this remarkable woman as someone's sister, think of her as Rosemary's. Because it was Rosemary Kennedy who made Eunice who she was."

 Source:  Boston Globe/UPI

Here's the highlight:

"Even at a tribute to her in 2007, the woman who many allowed might have been president if only she'd been born a man said "I am lucky that I experienced the sting of rejection as a woman who was told that the real power was not for me.  I am lucky that I saw... Rosemary treated with the most unbearable rejection. It's really that simple.  Love gave me confidence and adversity gave me purpose."

In Alyson Jenkins' piece, Be your Own Batman she writes that women are defined in relation to someone else:  someone's mother, sister, aunt, wife, someone's Robin.  Even with Ms. Shriver, we know her best as someone's sister.

Joseph Kennedy was quoted as saying "had she been a man, Eunice would have made a fine politician."  As she herself states, there was a 'sting' to this.  We've all felt the 'sting' of adversity.  It is in the overcoming that we find our best self. 

What is your hardest test thus far?  In the overcoming, who did you become?

But adversity alone is not enough.  For it can just as easily lead to defeat as to triumph.  It was her love of Rosemary, and the difficulty surrounding Rosemary's mental retardation, and subsequent lobotomy, that drove Ms. Shriver to eventually found the Special Olympics. 

Who and what do you love so deeply, that this love becomes a well-spring of confidence?

Love gave me confidence and adversity gave me purpose.

Words to cherish...

...And a woman I would like to have known.

Send Perfectionism Packing

I've thought about this post for several days, but have put it off.

Ironic, but not surprising I suppose, given the topic is perfectionism.  

As a child, there were so many things I did well, I could afford to be a perfectionist.  In high school it became a problem.  I almost didn't take AP American History.  I didn't take Calculus.  Nor would I take Econ because I feared I couldn't get an 'A'.  I did get 'A's in the classes I took, but in retrospect, a 'B' in Calculus, rather than no calculus at all given my chosen career, probably would have been a decent trade.

Enter the workforce.

When I got to New York, I wanted to succeed so badly, I had to square off with my perfectionism, muscling through the fear.

And I had to learn a few tricks.  Like breaking things down into small enough pieces that I wouldn't be overwhelmed.  Or telling myself to spend just spend 5 minutes putting everything together that I'd need, and then I could go do something else.

Even a decade ago, I probably wouldn't have participated in the Resolutionary Challenge because I  couldn't have gotten a 10 every day.  Now I'm happy to get the score I get (and it's never a 10) because I'm willing to take happier and healthier, over perfect or bust.

 

Courtesy:  Sarah Jane Studios  

When I do send perfectionism packing (and when I can't quite, I pull out a few tricks to pretend as if I have), I try more new things, and I learn more.

I can model for my children how to cope with perfectionism.

I get more accomplished because I procrastinate less.

I stop something I've started when I realize it's not worth finishing.

I am willing to date dreams, knowing I don't have to marry them.

Most importantly, I can welcome in my world.

Happily. Exuberantly.

With arms outstretched.

If you didn't feel the need to be perfect at a 'thing', what would you try doing?

What dream would you like to date?

What are you currently working on that isn't worth finishing?

What tips do you have for outwitting perfectionism?

My husband who is trained as a scientist can break projects into very small, logical pieces -- he is a superb peer mentor.  How can some of the men in our lives -- fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, colleagues - mentor us?   

Related posts:
Living the dream.  Life's a breeze.  Not.
If you get defensive, you're getting close
What if Madeleine L'Engle hadn't dare to dream?
Getting back in the saddle of our possibilities
Mum's the word