Apparently I Have A Dream

Last night I logged in to Facebook for a quick check in. Typically I'm met with something that makes me smile and have generally warm feelings for humanity. This time, though, I saw two posts in my stream about a hate-filled act of violence based in political difference and then another friend's post that had turned ugly with comments. I literally cried. Just a little. But I cried. My first instinct was to turn it off, but something inside me said I owed it to myself and the other people who might be feeling the same way to speak up. I posted on my wall:

I would like to once again rally for people not being hateful to one another based on political beliefs (or religion or race or sexual preference or...). Be civil. Please. Love people, love. I've seen enough in one quick check in on Facebook tonight to just want to check out of Facebook all together. I think I need to go read Richard Brendan's* page.

I received some very supportive comments and "likes" to my post.

Later a dear friend of mine, a friend in real life (IRL, as the kids say) who lives entirely too far away now, reposted what I said which sparked a civil conversation where some people apologized for disagreeing with him, some agreed with what he said and some supported the cause of debate on Facebook. Actually, it was the right kind of discussion. Not sheep. Not mean. So I posted on that thread of conversation:

For me, it's not the posting of "hot" topics or even the debate, it's when people just get ugly and mean, when they name call, when they attack the person, not just the ideas. While I'm a classic conflict avoider, I understand the necessity of disagreement and the progress it *can* produce. I just don't understand why people can't be civil. I'd like to say it's only on Facebook or the Internet, but I see it now in day to day discourse, in how quickly someone dismisses another as evil or stupid simply because they don't have the same viewpoint. I even see stories of violence that are the result of lathered up hate over difference. I want to see people stand up for what they believe in without tearing down their human brothers and sisters. A simple "I disagree" when one has nothing else constructive to add or even "I'll have to consider that more" might go a long way to making peace in this world. Apparently I have a dream.

I want to say more here and I feel like I need to do more research on civility in general and civil discourse in particular. I have a few books cued up and there are plenty of articles to read. I also know that in my need to know enough to have a right to write on a topic I may never post this entry. And so I'll simply close with a plea to humanity: Please treat all living things with respect. Please be kind. Disagree and express yourself? Yes! Just do it with love and compassion in your heart.

*Richard Brendan, by the way, is a great guy, a guy who is a lot of things, among them a host of a radio show where he talks to people who are visionaries and social change artists™. When I think of someone who is all about love, Richard quickly comes to mind.

Note: Is avoider a real word? I'm debating that in my own mind.

Why Clifton StrengthsFinder

I’m not Clifton StrengthsFinder expert, but I have found myself once again extolling its virtues in a leadership group that I meet with once a month. This was a new audience that hadn't yet heard me harp on the instrument's signature themes. Oh the giddiness. 

Here’s the thing, it seems we’re conditioned to believe that the winners in business and life are those who act and act fast, the people who are outgoing, make big deals, get visible stuff done. Are you shaking your head and saying, "well yah...duh, Nila!" Bear with me.

With all these books telling us that we must be large and in charge and with most career training being based in those principals, those of us who aren’t the visible movers and shakers can find ourselves questioning our worth. We ask what we’ll bring to business and if we’ll really be of any value to x situation or y group. That's because we’re trying to fit into some cultural ideal of what is strong. I say that's sad. I believe everyone has great worth. That’s why I like the Clifton StrengthsFinder system.

Donald Clifton, Tom Rath and the Gallup organization created the Clifton StrengthsFinder assessment, identifying 34 strengths based on research in human behavior. Using an online assessment (and a code that is found in a few books including, StrengthsFinder 2.0) people may discover their top five strengths, their signature themes. Keep in mind that in this definition, a strength isn’t necessarily simply something you're good at. It's something you're good at and are energized by. Or something like that. Anyway, I postulate that the farther someone is outside of the acceptable corporate and cultural norm, the more she can be enlightened by seeing her strengths listed as, well, strengths. I’m speaking from personal experience, of course. Kind of figured that out, didn't you. When I saw my top strengths and read the descriptions, I was able to see what I thought were weakness in a completely different light. I could see my value to others, instead of seeing what I thought were my deficiencies, my lack of being a "real go getter."

That's the idea, really, to discover your strengths then spend your energy using those strengths in your work (and life) rather than constantly striving to be someone you are not. You know, be all that you can be. It's self-actualization, silly.

By the way, on a practical level, the strengths descriptions can be great bio fodder. Highlight your favorites phrases and see how you can cobble the concepts together for a unique personal brand statement on your LinkedIn page or your own personal site. Just don't plagiarize. Please.

Just my 2 cents for today.

Consequently

Ten years ago when we took the financial plunge and landscaped our barren yard, we probably didn’t realize we’d be creating a wildlife habitat. I’m sure we just wanted our property to look good, to offer a little privacy and, yeah, give us a little nature.

As I sit looking out over our backyard in its fine white confectioner’s coating, I see a bright red Cardinal sitting on a feeder off our patio. A little further out, a dozen chickadees are hopping from another bird feeder into the branches of a 25’ evergreen. My mind wonders to the squirrel that has evidently decided to call our yard home. He (or she…we really don’t know), has been with us for about a month or so, living in another group of evergreens across the yard. He comes to look in our patio door, plots bird feeder take over and generally torments Luna, our 65 pound one-year old golden retriever – all highly entertaining for our family.

There’s always something going on out there in the yard. We even had a big fat green frog come to live at our little koi pond where it isn’t uncommon to find a duck or two floating in the summer. Duck eggs are another common find. A goose egg popped up this past fall.

When I look beyond our fence line around to our neighbor’s yards, I see a mostly white field, fences of wood, metal and vinyl and a few barren trees breaking up the monotony of this suburban land. With so much nothingness, it’s hardly a wonder that wildlife comes here.

I’m not judging my neighbors. At least I’m trying to not judge them. I realize it can be expensive and time-consuming to put in trees and bushes. I’m acutely aware of how fortunate we are as I sit here eating my breakfast of Smoking Goose sausage, local fresh eggs and gluten-free millet-chia toast with grass-fed butter. Perhaps I live a privileged life. Maybe if I lived in an even more affluent neighborhood like most of my peers, I’d notice something entirely different. Hard to say.

What all this noticing has brought me to realize – again – is that what we do today has an effect on others now, tomorrow and for many tomorrows after. While this abundance of nature right outside our door may not have been the aim of our landscape plans a decade ago, we’ve certainly benefited and so have our suburban furred and feathered friends. Maybe our neighbors benefit too. I wonder what other decisions I’ve made in the past decade that are affecting others. I certainly hope I’ve left mostly good in my wake. All good would be, well, wow…there’s a dream.

Introversion Interrupted

As Alice Cooper's belted for years, school's out for summer. My kids have now been home for two full weeks. And I just realized that I'm already hitting an overload point. That little reality brought up the dreaded Guilt Monster. I went around and around in my head about how I must be an awful parent. What good mother could harbor what amounts to resentment toward her children for being happy, active kids?

Before I let the ruminating about being a horrible mother pull me under, I guided myself through a little troubleshooting about the situation. I quickly concluded that my angst is likely due to my tendency to introversion.

I'm not a stay-at-home mother. I'm a business owner and brand strategist who works from home. My husband works also works with me, in a different room, doing different things. For about nine months out of the year this means that we each have our own workspace free of the distractions of other people, at least between 8am and 3:30pm on school days, the perfect set up for working with introversion.

When I speak of introversion and extraversion I'm not equating those terms with shyness and being outgoing, respectively. I'm referring to the ways each of us directs our attention and where our energy flows – mostly inward or mostly outward. With a strong tendency to introversion, I naturally seek time alone to hunt for information, play with ideas, analyze options or contemplate situations. By contrast, if I were oriented to extraversion I'd tend to energize myself by being with other people, by being out and involved in activities, brainstorming and conversing. While I do these as well, I feel most comfortable when I have long stretches of self-directed time to myself.

For example, yesterday I spent an almost embarrassing amount of time evaluating my array of nutritional supplements, optimizing the specifics and looking for ways to reduce the cost. That might sound like torture to some, but I enjoyed the time alone exercising my brain.

A less goal-oriented and more typical way I like spend my time is simply exploring and contemplating. I could spend hours alone drifting from reading literature to sinking my teeth into nonfiction to meditation to sketching or writing. I come out energized, ready to go. If I spend an equal amount of time going to an event with friends or family or to one of my kids' school events, I'm ready to vegetate in front of the television or go to bed.

This way of being – hunting and gathering, evaluating, analyzing and arranging information then ideating and creating with it – is ideal for the brand strategy work I do for clients.

Note: if you consider yourself to have a tendency for introversion but none of the above sounds like you, don't sweat that detail. Other parts of your psychological type play a role in how introversion or extraversion manifest in your life.

When my children are home, my trips out for errands are no longer solo. Time sitting in my workspace is frequently and irregularly interrupted by their wants and needs...for, you know, parenting. The coveted long periods of self-directed time alone are less available or predictable. Putting this together for myself, that my introversion isn't being fed, has brought me relief. First, I realize I'm not rejecting my children, I've simply not adjusted to allow myself the quiet, contemplative time I need. Second, I see that I can partially solve my overload by scheduling some time to be energized.

This is why I like the Myers-Briggs framework for psychological type. When I feel out of sorts or incongruent, I can look at my type (INFP) and find some clues to what is going on and how I can help myself.

Full disclosure: if you didn't already know, I'm an MBTI® Certified Practitioner, meaning that I'm trained and authorized to administer and interpret the MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) which I will vehemently insist is not a test but simply a tool for self-discovery that must be verified through other means. Ideally you'd work with a certified practitioner. (No, I'm not trying to sell my services, though I be happy to help you. I use the information for myself and within other projects.) The result of taking the MBTI is not the end of the story and should never pigeon-hole a person. Misuse of the tool and rampant flawed imitations online have tarnished the reputation of what can really be done with MBTI. I have more soapbox on that, but I'll leave it there for now.

What most people don't know about the MBTI is that there are versions beyond the simplest. The MBTI II helps break down each of the four letters into five facets each. So yes, it's entirely possible for someone who is outgoing to be considered an I (Introversion preference).

You: Being More Effective in Your MBTI Type is a great resource for understanding your specific type and for understanding the five facets within each of the four letters of a type and how they interplay. For instance, the Extraversion and Introversion the facets are:

1. Initiating-Receiving
2. Expressive-Contained
3. Gregarious-Intimate
4. Active-Reflective
5. Enthusiastic-Quiet

I have what is considered pure type. All of the facets of all of the parts of my type are true to INFP. For introversion, I have a strong preference for Receiving, Contained, Intimate, Reflective and Quiet. That tells me that that I'll need to be aware of when I'm incongruent with these and that I'll need strategies for dealing with the incongruency, included accessing the other facets.

So I think I'll chat with my family about my needs, helping them to understand that I'm not pushing them away but that I need time to re-energize. Maybe I'll schedule time on my calendar – a few hours every few days – to have closed door working or contemplating time. I'll also ensure that I meditate daily as that's a quick and effective way for me to get energy. And as I have out-of-the-house activities I'll follow up with space for climbing into my introversion cave.

Clearing Some Space

I'm in the middle of cleaning and decluttering my workspace (my library, as I like to call it). It's by no means a wreck in here. I keep my space generally tidy, but little things do build up, odds and ends get ever so slightly out of place. I've learned over time that this physical state relates closely to my mental state. I've been functioning fine, yet I feel just a little bit of built up mental residue and perhaps a few misplaced thoughts. Almost magically, cleaning the physical space also cleanses my mental space.

Yeah I know this sounds a little woo woo, but I'm betting somewhere someone could put some science to this phenomenon. And I know it's not just me. I've heard other people talk about this type of clearing activity and effect.

I think that while I'm clearing out the junk and putting things in place, my brain is working in the background on other things that have puzzled me in some way, that somehow the neural connections being made by the moving about of objects helps open up other pathways. Maybe because I'm physically moving to make changes in my external environment I use a different part of my brain than I'm typically using when I'm consciously working on a project or solving a family issue. I'd research this now and give you some links, but I'm not all cleared up yet since I took a break to write this post. I want to focus on this clearing. I'm really looking forward to that ahhhhhh that I just know I'll feel in about another hour.

P.S. I know it's been something like forever since I posted. I'm back.

Transforming Loss into Gratitude: Giving Thanks 2010

As I was pondering what I might write for Thanksgiving, a single thought repeatedly entered my mind: this is a tough year for giving thanks. Maybe that ins’t the most uplifting thought for this holiday of gratitude. Bear with me. I get there.

If you’ve read my other posts, you know that my father died in July after an aggressive cancer gave him seven weeks of living hell, most of that on the respiratory floor or critical care unit of his local hospital. Since my mother died 12 years before him, I became the representative of my father’s estate, a job that has been anything but a glamorous. At times, I’ve been in a tough position with my siblings, pressing the specifics of the will and probate law. While auctioning my parent’s belongings, I accepted a $15,000 bid for the sale of my father’s home. (Gasp! That’s less than a cheap new car.) Next week we close the deal. Then everything is gone.

It’s as if every shred of physical evidence of my childhood has been swept away. I’m reminded of Tibetan Buddhist monks who spend days painstakingly creating beautiful, incredibly detailed mandalas from brightly colored grains of sand only to erase them with the sweep of a hand. This is an act that illustrates the concept of impermanence, the truth that nothing lasts. Nothing. There’s the odd thought that takes me through my darkness into the light of gratitude.

As a direct result of the inevitable suffering of illness and death, I’ve spent valuable time with my older brother and sisters, appreciating them each as I never have before. I’ve received such outpourings of compassion from my friends - and there are a lot of them - that I truly understand their love for me and mine for them. I’ve indulged my thirst for discovery by exploring our family history through pictures and documents written in German. I spent a lot of time laughing and talking about some pretty heady topics with my children as we drove back and forth to the hospital an hour away to sit with Dad, an opportunity I know not all parents have. I’ve leaned heavily on my husband’s generosity and grace and been richly rewarded with seemingly endless support that epitomizes our twenty years together.

And so, though I’ve experienced (and am experiencing) deep sadness, this has been a year filled with immeasurable compassion, love, and joy, often right in the midst of mind blowing pain. In one of life’s twists I didn’t expect, I’ve learned that accepting impermanence is a surprising path to thankfulness. I hold an unquantifiable gratitude for the people and things in my life. My riches are certainly abundant!

I imagine those who don’t have the riches I am so thankful for and wonder how I can give some of what I have to them. I’ve called on some of my friends to join me in blogging, posting gratitude-filled updates to Twitter and Facebook, and giving in support of Epic Thanks, a global celebration of gratitude and giving that honors inspiration changemakers who create hope in our world. Perhaps you’ll join us?

Yes? Great! No? Well, you did read this. Either way, thank you.

Image by Wonderlane [CC-BY-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons, Thank you, Wonderlane.

It Really is the Little Things, revisited

Like many others, I’ve often said "it’s the little things." Back in November of 2008, I even wrote a post titled It Really is the Little Things. I discussed how little things that pop up in our day-to-day lives bring us moments of happiness. Now I see that the same is true of sadness.

I was hunting through my car for an item I’ve misplaced when I found a folded white cloth under the front passenger seat. It only took a moment to puzzle out that it is my father’s handkerchief that must have fallen from his pocket in July when I took him to the hospital for the last time. The realization brought a rush of images and emotions to the present. I could feel the fear in my own body as I saw myself helping my father get out of the car. And I felt nausea as I saw myself pulling away to park while my sister and my daughter wheeled Dad in to the emergency room entrance for a direct check in to the hospital. I recall my uncertainty as I decided to stay or leave so late that night. It was to be only an overnight stay, but deep in my gut, I knew that it was more. He stayed just four nights before we stood by his bed saying our final goodbyes. It all happened so quickly. He walked to the car on a Saturday night and by Tuesday morning he was breathing with only the help of a ventilator. A day later, he lay lifeless before us.

All of that from a handkerchief found in my car.

I’ve talked about my father in numerous conversations in the past few weeks. I’ve worked on opening his estate. And, I’ve written emails and letters to my siblings about my father’s posthumous financial affairs. A few recounted moments do make me teary, most notably when he mouthed “I love you, too” wearing an oxygen mask after the ventilator tube had been removed. Other than those moments, I’m mostly fine. But then I’m caught completely off guard by picking up his wallet, getting a forwarded piece of mail that had been sent to him from my children’s school or finding a handkerchief. These things unearth simple, yet deep memories and represent a future that might have been. I can imagine him paying for lunch at a sandwich shop, walking through the school for one of the kids’ events or pulling out that handkerchief to cover a cough (always the gentleman). This is what I’m left with now that the breath and the flesh have gone.

It truly is the little things.