Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Finding Our Way

Yesterday, I learned what might be the secret to finding one's way in life.

My wife and I were at UC San Diego. We arrived early for our play and I wanted to scamper over to the university bookstore to see what special treasures they might have. This seems like a simple task save for one thing: we San Diegans, apparently struck with guilt about how easy our lives are in this land with the climate of an indoor shopping mall, have a propensity to construct convoluted paths. Horton Plaza, the downtown shopping mall, is constructed so that one can actually see a store across the way but not know how to get there sans the cable and pulley systems that someone like James Bond might carry in his wallet. UC San Diego is similar - a beautiful, big campus that seemingly opts for meandering sidewalks and foot paths wherever it can.

We knew the general direction we wanted to head but we quickly found ourselves in a dead end of sorts. I asked a student, "How do I get to the bookstore?" In a delightfully helpful manner that reminded me of why I love living among humans, she walked us a short distance, trying to describe how one might navigate the convoluted, un-named paths that eventually led to the book store. After a few attempts to describe a route that defied description, she finally turned to me and offered this simple advice.

"Just head in this direction," she said, pointing, "and ask people along the way."

I had to laugh. How perfect was that advice? And how broadly applicable.

None of us can make it on our own. Find your general direction – and then ask for help along the way. As it turned out, I didn't even have to find the bookstore to get my daily dose of wisdom.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Purpose or, the Road Home

Purpose is about discovering you and then getting there.

Imagine that you're headed to meet a friend for coffee. En route, you hit a roadblock. The authorities have closed the freeway because of a spill. At that point, you might just call your friend and cancel or reschedule for another time.

Imagine, by contrast, that you encountered this road block on the way home. Likely, you'd look for an alternative route and, even though it took longer than you'd planned; you persevere until you arrived home. It is harder to dissuade us from going home.

Following this analogy, some people find home by following the green lights. This is a strategy that might result in making good time. It is less obviously a strategy that will get you home. In fact, you can try it some day. Some day when you are away from home, drive back. If the green light is an arrow, turn left. If you encounter a green light, go straight. No green light? Turn right. Just keep this up for as long as you had expected to take to get home and see where you get to.

A purpose should feel less like a coffee date, vacation, or trip to work than a trip home. You can be sure to encounter obstacles. At that point, you can give up and start sleeping in the Laundromat, never quite feeling settled or content. Or you can convince yourself that the green lights brought you to exactly the place you should be. Or you can persevere.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Life as an Experiment - Beyond Bold Statements

God said, “Let there be light.”

Fred said, “This is the year that my business moves out of the garage and onto the cover of Inc. magazine.”

Guess who spoke something into existence with a simple declaration and guess who was frustrated, discouraged and embarrassed at the end of the year.

One of the problems with traditional mission statements and goal setting is that it depends on a simplistic notion of how people and reality actually work. The belief that plans will work as planned depends on at least a couple of underlying assumptions, neither of which is particularly well documented. The first assumption is that we are god-like, able to speak things into existence. The second assumption is that reality actually changes in sudden and dramatic shifts, like light springing into existence out of complete darkness.

Perhaps what is most unfortunate about these beliefs is that it so often leads to disappointment and a new belief: “I can’t change. This is just who I am.” Studies show that people who make declarations of self-change temporarily feel better but in just a few weeks nearly 90 percent are disappointed and left with a worse self-image. Worse, declarations that are unrealistic with regards to timing or payoff (the most common kind of declarations) reduce satisfaction with life by about 40 percent. Make a goal and feel worse about yourself and life in general in just weeks!

Declaration is the basis for a lot of change efforts, from diets and fitness programs to business and social success. Whether it is under the guise of mission statements, specific goals or bold promises, declaration is one way we try to assert ourselves onto reality. The result, often as not, makes about as much difference as bugs redirecting traffic.
“Men who have discovered the limits of arrogance make better company: You notice more when you're not running around imposing your will on everything.”
- Virginia Vitzthum
The approach to follow begins with the perhaps shocking notion that we are not god-like. We are unable to change reality – even to change ourselves – with bold declarations or through secretly scribbled notes in a planner or journal.

More often, change is the result of a different process – a more incremental and inquisitive approach in which we learn about our potential and our goals through experiences. Our goals direct our experiences and our experiences, in turn, shape our goals. The two interact in a cycle through which we emerge. The problem is, we too often leave both to chance rather than intention. The approach that follows is about turning your life into an intentional experiment – a wonderful experiment that promises at least as much delight, and certainly more surprise, than the realization of any goal you can declare now.

Life as an Experiment - Buckminster Fuller

In 1927, a 32 year-old man stood on the edge of Lake Michigan, ready to throw himself into the freezing waters. He was bankrupt, the result of his third business failure in a row. He’d been drinking heavily and was grief stricken over the death of his first child. He didn’t know how he would support his wife and newborn daughter. At that moment, his life seemed like a pattern of failures to him. Before the bankruptcies, years earlier, he’d been expelled from Harvard during his freshman year and never did complete his degree.

But fortunately, in this moment of drunken grief, Buckminster Fuller had the presence of mind to make an extraordinary decision. He realized that he was about to throw his life away and decided that if he was contemplating that, why not take half a step back and do something unorthodox. Rather than throw his life away, why not throw away his old notions of goals and achievement? He decided to turn his life into an experiment – an experiment to see how much difference one ordinary person could make. [1]

The difference that Fuller’s life made has yet to be fully understood or felt. He was a pioneer of ecological thinking and sustainability – balancing economic and environmental needs. His influence spreads as a growing number of people adopt the thinking that he helped to introduce. Although he never did complete his degree at Harvard, Fuller was awarded 44 honorary doctoral degrees, granted 25 US patents, and authored 28 books.

When Buckminster Fuller turned his life into an experiment (many called him Bucky, but he referred to himself as Guinea Pig B), he created the conditions for an extraordinary life. Perhaps best of all, his failures were feedback for an experiment, not a reflection of who he was, not something to take personally, not a reason to jump. Turning his life into an experiment gave him the best of both worlds: he ended his life even more accomplished than someone driven to achieve to prove something and remained more sanguine than someone who avoided risks altogether.

The modern world was born when scientists during the Enlightenment began testing hypotheses and conducting experiments rather than blindly quoting Aristotle or church authorities. The modern world – its science, technology, and even social institutions and practices – has emerged from the application of the empirical method to objective reality. Planning, or theorizing, followed by doing, studying the results and then adapting the plan or theory is the cycle of progress.

Consider the possibility that you could apply the empirical method to your personal, subjective reality. It’s possible that you will find similar breakthroughs in your own life if you make your development the product of intentional experiments rather blind adherence to advice from Napoleon Hill, Tony Robbins, the motivational thinker de jour or worse, the voice in your head that insists on narrating your life, the voice that we often mistake for reality.

[1] See http://architecture.about.com/library/bl-fuller.htm and http://www.bfi.org/introduction_to_bmf.htm for quick biographies of Richard Buckminster Fuller, 1895 to 1983.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Anything Worth Doing is Worth Doing Poorly

We have such an emphasis on looking good that it is easy to let that keep us from real progress. It may be no coincidence that babies learn more rapidly than any of us and, as Lyle Lovett reminds us, "fat babies have no pride."

If you are trying a genuinely new task, you are likely to do it poorly. Riding a bike, walking, presenting to a group of bored third graders or hostile clients. If the task is new, you're likely to stumble.

So this is the paradox. The desire to do well stops us from doing what matters. Invariably we will get to a point in life - in our relationships, our work, our health issues - when doing what we do so well no longer matters. We have to try something new. And at that point, we can embrace the fact that we'll do it poorly, freeze, or continue to do the old thing well, desperately hoping that it will suddenly make a difference.