Brian@GrowthWorks

Perspective Matters: Where Are All the Jerks and Idiots?

Through the eyes of a child...

A mother was driving in afternoon rush-hour traffic, having just picked up her 7-year-old daughter from school. While Mom drove, the little girl worked quietly, drawing pictures in a notebook on her lap.

After a few minutes, the little girl raised her eyes, looking a little confused at her mother and asked quizzically, "Mom, where are all the jerks and idiots today?"

Mom said, "Oh honey, they're only out when your father is driving."

...the world is a different place.

I'm not the kind of guy who recites affirmations in the mirror to start my mornings. But anybody who's been involved in a project I facilitated can tell you, I am a big advocate for making the choice to go through life not seeing the other drivers as jerks and idiots. I've seen the difference it can make in a life or a business when someone chooses to approach most days with hope and optimism. And I'm so glad there are kids around to remind us what a good idea that is.

Make a Difference,

Brian

P.S. Thanks to Jim Clemmer for sharing this story during a recent webinar.

Life Makes the Journey...

A one-minute-thirty-six-second artistic and moving reminder to make every day your next great adventure.

Be forewarned: It's a commercial for high-end handbag and luggage-maker Louis Vuitton, but you won't know that until you've watched almost the entire video. I'm challenged and inspired every time I watch.

Email subscribers click here to watch on Youtube.

Make a Difference,

Brian

One Day at a Time...

Got a long-distance call from an old friend tonight, checking in to wish me a Happy St. Patrick's Day and to let me know he's been clean for a year. No drugs. No alcohol. No more dealing cocaine from the trashed out apartment where I last saw him.

He had been on the brink. His personal story includes having made a ton of money and losing it. Having a family and losing it. Having a bullet rip into his life and almost losing it. 

I don't think it's a coincidence he called, even though it's a rare event when we talk. I bought a book the other day that I had intended to have already mailed to him. The title is, Broken -- My Story of Addiction and Redemption, by William Cope Moyers. 

In the epigraph, Moyers quotes Parker Palmer from The Politics of the Brokenhearted: "A disciple asks the [rabbi], 'Why does the Torah tell us to place these words upon your hearts? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts? The rebbe answers, "It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and the words fall in."

I heard Moyers speak at a professional association meeting -- these words and others from his personal journey through addiction -- and I knew within minutes I'd be buying several copies of the book to share with people I care about, people I fear are trying to fight this tough disease on their own... people I'm hoping could hear something in this story that  might land in their hearts.

The news in the long-distance was about a job, a reconnection with a son, and a resolve to stay a day at a time on this better course. Thanks for the hopeful call, old friend.

Make a difference,

Brian

Working on Purpose... Take this Job and Love It

We invest way too much of our lives at work to be miserable while we're at it. And yet, we all know people who spend more time complaining than performing.

The most common refrain I hear sounds something like this: "If only I could find a job that had real meaning and value, then I'd be happy."

I understand that sentiment. There are jobs that challenge even the most positive and optimistic among us. I've poured hot tar on rooftops on 90-degree days and loaded newspapers on trucks at 3 in the morning... and complained. But I was raised by a man who had a lifetime of tougher jobs, and yet he brought a sense of passion, purpose, and pride along with his lunch bag to every one of those jobs pretty much every day. (Thanks for the lifelong lesson, Dad.)

Now I watch for people in those potentially spirit-deadening jobs who find a way to soar and make a difference nonetheless. They are reminders.

Here's one. Watch, enjoy, and wonder...

(For Email Subscribers, click here to go to YouTube to watch.)

Make a Difference,

Brian

Inspiration...

I wish anything I could say or do could be as eloquently inspiring as this young man's story... but I guess that's the point...

It's a story about golf, but it's not about golf. It's an inspiration about living life fully -- no matter what.

It starts a bit slowly, but it's more than worth the 12 minutes you'll invest. Stick with it. And pass it on. From what I can tell by view counts on the original ESPN site and YouTube, not many people have seen this yet.

Make a Difference,

Brian

P.S. Thanks to Linda Bryant for sending it my way.

Too Much to Do?

I made a to-do list off of my to-do list today, and I'm ending the day feeling I haven't gotten very much done. Not exactly a banner day.

So I went in search for a little solace, and found it in this quote from Ann Lamott. It's one of my favorites. It's from a book she published in 1994, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.

"Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write. [It] was due the next day. We were at our family cabin... and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, 'Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.'"  

I'm feeling a little better...

Make a Difference,

Brian

The Zamboni Principle...

The Zamboni Principle goes by other names, but it's a simple story about a guy who wanted to drive a big ol' ice-grooming tractor across hockey rinks that makes the lesson stick with me, so that's what I call it.

My partner, Gerry, was leading a two-day workshop we had created called Eagles. It was focused on helping people build on their strengths, find their sense of purpose in their lives and work, and to create goals that in many cases became life changing. In the workshop we had people create "vision collages." They cut up magazines and pasted together words and photos they found helpful in expressing what mattered most to them related to work, family, community and spirituality. We would have them start the collages near the end of the first day of the workshop, ask them to complete them overnight, and come prepared to share whatever they were willing to share the next morning.

At the end of this particular workshop, one participant told Gerry he would be late arriving the next morning and was afraid he would miss his chance to present. Gerry assured him, whenever he arrived, they would take time for him to talk about his collage.

He came in at the tail end of the presentations. Although he had missed the inspiration of hearing other people take a few risks in sharing their personal stories, he dove in. As Gerry remembers it, everything was going smoothly as he talked about some newly discovered insights about where he wanted to head in life and what else he would like to accomplish. Then he said something to the effect of... "Now, this next part is going to sound... silly... but I'm going to put it out there. I have always had this powerful desire to drive a Zamboni."

Without missing a beat, almost every person in the group of two dozen pointed across the room and said, "Then you need to talk to him!" Him was the guy who had shared earlier that one of his great passions in life was the off-work-hours he put into coordinating volunteers, ice time, and rink maintenance for the youth hockey association in his community.

Putting it out there for this one guy essentially put a set of Zamboni keys in his hand. Dream achieved.

That was a little thing, but I've seen it happen time and again on things big and small. Someone willing to speak. Someone else willing to listen. Connections made. Needs fulfilled. It's not magic. The work of achievement doesn't go away, but the universe has an uncanny way of bringing together its disparate pieces.

The Zamboni Principle. Put it out there, and then pay attention. Stuff will happen.

Make a Difference,

Brian

Life Is a Gas If You Can Keep Your Sense of Humor...

"What are the most important things you learned from your mother?"

A friend asked that question a couple of weeks ago, looking for some ideas for a talk she'd be giving at church on Mother's Day. I didn't realize at first how thought-provoking it would be to spend a little time reflecting on that simple inquiry. It really got me thinking.

Mom's been gone for a long time, but I imagined how she'd be dealing with the current socioeconomic mess we're in. One thing I learned early was about living within means. There never was much money coming in the door at Hillside Avenue in Hartford, Connecticut when I was growing up, and there were no credit cards. Mom and dad focused on taking care of the basics in ascending order. On occasion that meant buying a few groceries instead of paying the electric bill on time... which in my pre-school days sometimes meant scrambling to hide in the basement stairwell while dad was at work and a bill collector was at the door.

The most important thing I learned from mom, however, has more to do with keeping things in perspective, taking things in stride, and maintaining a sense of humor no matter what twists life brings.

What's that? A Baby?

My mom was 42 years old when I was born. I'm the last of four kids; my sister -- the next youngest -- is seven years older than me. I was a bit of a surprise... Keep in mind I was born halfway back in the last century, so the art and science of medicine was somewhat less precise than it is now, but the story mom told in her lifelong lilting Irish brogue:

"I thought I was pregnant, so I went to see the family doctor, Dr. Sear.  He said to me," 'Delia.  You're 42 years old. You're not pregnant. You've got gas.'

"I left, but finally ended up going to see another doctor, and I was right. I was pregnant.

"About a year later was I was walking down the street with my baby carriage and I ran into Dr. Sear. He said, 'Delia! What do you have there? A baby?'

"I said, 'No. It's a little fart with a bonnet.'"

Near the end of her life when I would retell this story, my mother would deny she ever said such a thing. And she would laugh...

Find a Reason to Smile,

Brian

   Happy Mother's Day!

Little Things Make a Difference...

"Do all the good you can, By all the means you can, In all the ways you can, In all the places you can, At all the times you can, To all the the people you can, As long as ever you can." -- John Wesley

It seemed like we weren't going to find a parking spot anywhere within a mile of the park. We had been circling in the Powderhorn neighborhood hoping to find a space close enough we'd be able to catch part of the annual May Day Parade wrapping into the park. Unfortunately, thousands of people had had that same idea... about an hour before we did. Every block was lined with cars snugged into the curb bumper to bumper.

I was driving south on Elliott a few blocks from the parade route, a bit dejected, conceding we'd have to head to the outer limits to find a spot.

A woman walking in the street toward the park flagged us to a stop.

"Are you looking for a place to park?"

"Uh, yes," we answered, a bit skeptically.

"My house is at the end of the block. It's the only one with a driveway."

Though neither of us said anything, we were both thinking, "Right, what's this gonna cost us?"

"There's a blue car parked there. Just pull in behind it. You can park there. We're not going anywhere. We won't need to get our car out. Just leave yours there and you won't have to worry about it. No problem."

Huh?

We parked, looking at each other with disbelief as I turned off the ignition. It wasn't a huge offer, but still not the kind of thing that happens every day.

As we walked back along that same block I noticed there was a space on the street. I thought about going back and moving my car there. But I figured I'd let someone else have a lucky day too -- showing up even later than we had and finding that open spot.

But get this. As we headed east at an intersection, a young father, walking north from the same corner with his wife and 5-year-old daughter, backpedaled, and without prompting, asked us for directions to the park and parade. A guy? Asking directions?

Spring was in the air!

Brian

   A Float in the 35th Annual Minneapolis May Day Parade -- Worth the Walk!

Link to Video: Everything that Happens...

In corresponding with Allie (thank you, Facebook), I learned the feature I mentioned in this previous Blog item was broadcast on the Big Ten Network, not ESPN. The feature is five minutes and twenty three seconds worth watching. Here's the link. It's not exactly a direct link. Look for Allie in the light blue leotard...

Brian

Allie Southard broke her back in the summer of 2007 training on the uneven parallel bars. Doctors told her she would never compete as a gymnast again. That's the beginning of the story.

In March 2008, after months of rehabilitation and training, she vaulted onto the balance beam -- the most intimidating of all gymnastic apparatuses -- and did an exhibition performance in front of her Penn State University teammates, competitors from Nebraska, Maryland, and Rutgers, and a gym packed with fans. She scored a 9.675 on a 10-point scale. Her teammates swarmed her after the performance, a showing that earned her the award for the most inspirational performance of the meet.

Steve Shepard, her coach, says, "Allie is an inspiration to her team. She defied all odds...."

She competed this weekend at the NCAA championship meet in Lincoln, Nebraska, the same place she performed that doctor-defying, inspiring exhibition. I was running on a treadmill at the YMCA when I saw her profiled on TV on ESPN. She got emotional talking about that moment when she was embraced by her teammates after that first performance.  Throughout the interview, though, she was mostly unassuming. She was asked the inevitable questions about how and why she was able to come so far despite being told she couldn't. She said, everything that happens, happens for a reason...

I don't know if anyone or anything really has control of making master plans to test and develop us. But I believe without doubt that everything that happens presents an opportunity for us to respond, and how we respond makes all the difference.

By the way, Allie scored a 9.8 on the balance beam this weekend, tied for the highest score in that event for the Penn State team. And she's got another year of competition left, and hopefully plenty of other opportunities for making good stuff happen that others don't believe is possible.

Make a Difference,

Brian