Category Archives: Personal Growth

Communication, Mental Hygiene, Personal Growth

You’re Not busy, are you?

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I haven’t counted but I do know I’ve heard a lot of people whining lately about how busy they are. Perhaps I’ve done my fair share, although I try not to, partly because of a bias I developed a few years ago when I was asked by a client to teach “time management.” Since I believe prescription without diagnosis is malpractice in medicine, management, and education, I took a look at what was going on in his organization.

My conclusion was that time management wasn’t the issue. Priority management was the issue. The corporate culture had developed an unintended value that appearing overworked and stressed was important. I joked that most employees appeared to be too busy to do any meaningful work.

There’s an old joke about the company president who issued the memorandum that “We will keep having meetings until we figure out why nothing is getting done.” Talk about confusing activity with accomplishment!

I suppose it’s always been true but lately, it seems like being busy equates to some sort of badge of honor. The busier you are, the bigger and shinier badge you get to wear. I think it’s contagious. I know it’s competitive.

If you’re a social media buff, see how many timeline posts you can find claiming, “Well, I don’t have much to do…” Contrast that with those who are compelled to report their entire day’s schedule. It has a humorous aspect. “Gee, I’m so busy I barely had time to find these cute cat/puppy pictures to share.”

I’m sorry to say, I’m not impressed by busyness, particularly when it becomes a reason (excuse) for failure to do something others are depending on. I know several people who actually will spend a lot of time explaining how busy they are and how much they have to do and how sorry they are they haven’t gotten to… I bite my tongue so I don’t observe out loud they could have crossed a few things off the list in the time they spent telling me their story.

I had the good fortune to attend a few lectures by Ned Hermann back in the late ’80s. Ned was a true pioneer in the field of creative thinking and reasoning. He was also a great storyteller. In one of his lectures, he was explaining “theta” — those low-frequency brain waves associated with the early stages of sleep and the process of dreaming. They are also associated with enhanced creativity. He shared that he was sitting in his recliner, pushed back and relaxed, consciously entering a theta-like state. When his wife called to him to take out the trash he replied, “Can’t now… I’m working.”

I don’t think it would have been any less true if he’d said, “Can’t now… I’m busy.” What might appear as “doing nothing” may have great value. It really is about value.

Busy is about being engaged–it’s not about being overworked and overwhelmed. Busy is not a bad thing when it means the busy person is anxious to contribute and is seeking action.

The question we may need to ask ourselves occasionally is whether or not we are busy (engaged) with things that are truly important. How we decide importance may be a different topic for a different day. For now, let’s agree being busy for the sake of being busy isn’t effective or efficient. When we think we’re too busy to do certain things, we’re really saying those things aren’t important. Or at least they aren’t important enough to make time and find the energy for along with the other stuff.

It sounds rude, but I’ve found myself wishing people would be more honest and offer the explanation, “That’s not something I’m willing to make important right now.” Being honest might be as important as being busy.

I don’t care how busy I am – I will always make time for what’s most important to me.

Kevin Hart
Mental Health, Mental Hygiene, Personal Growth

You’re not mad, are you?

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One of the more “touristy” things we did while in Canada was to visit the Alexander Graham Bell Museum in Baddeck, Nova Scotia. For the record, it’s a beautiful and extremely educational spot. When we entered the building and approached the ticket desk, a tour member slipped in front of us to approach the bright and chipper “ranger” (the museum is a provincial park). She began peppering Ranger Rachel (not her real name) with questions, requests, and observations that bordered on demands.

Ranger Rachel kept her composure throughout even while it was apparent that Terry Tourist was, for the most part, not really listening and unlikely to be satisfied with anything Ranger Rachel said or did. Since we were on vacation and in no real hurry I attempted to see the humor in it. When Terry Tourist ran out of steam and left, I approached the counter wearing my best international diplomatic smile.

Allowing her body to noticeably relax, Ranger Rachel sighed, “Why is everyone so angry this morning?” My guard was down and I said, truly without thinking, “I’ll bet you’ve dealt mostly with Americans today.” To her diplomatic credit, she didn’t confirm or deny my suspicion. We did, however, briefly discuss attitudes in general and tourists in particular.

It wasn’t until later I realized my spontaneous response reflected an almost unconscious observation I’d been recording. We encountered a lot less anger in Canada, at least among Canadians. And with the possible exception of Terry Tourist, it seemed to be contagious. It’s hard to be angry with someone who is smiling and being nice. Or at least it should be.

Sure, it was a vacation and I was probably wearing my rose-tinted (not as strong as rose-colored) glasses. But I’m convinced Canada–at least in the provinces we were in–is a happier and more relaxed place. Heck, even the Canadian Facebook Groups and Pages I visited and interacted with were friendly and peaceful. (Conversely, when I posted a photo on my timeline of a Canadian Ale I found quite tasty it didn’t take long for a comment to appear stating that all beer is rotten stuff, etc. and implying that I was encouraging people to ruin their lives.)

I don’t doubt for a minute that something in the commenter’s past influenced his thinking. But I am struggling with why he’s so angry because that anger will have a greater negative effect on him than a pint of Canadian Ale. I was tempted to reply, “Don’t worry, I won’t buy you one.” I suspect he would not have seen the humor in that.

So I guess I’m sorry that I don’t have an answer to Ranger Rachel’s question. Why are we so angry?

I do think part of the answer lies in society’s tendency to engage in victim-thinking. Politically and personally, we think it’s easy to blame someone or something for any unhappiness or difficulties that come our way. Lots of energy goes into figuring out who to blame that might be better spent figuring out how to solve the problem.

From victimhood, it’s not a big leap to feeling everyone and everything is against us. Once we’re there, it becomes very easy to feel abused and hopeless. Sometimes when we’ve had enough, we become vicious in word and, potentially in action. That viciousness can be directed towards ourselves as well as others.

Eleanor Roosevelt in This Is My Story observed, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I think she’d agree that “No one can make you feel angry without your consent.” There is no logical reason for us to be victimized by our feelings. How we choose to respond to situations and people is well within our realm of choices. Anger is not the only option.

Knowing that, you aren’t mad are you?

Causes and Friends, Personal Growth

Good, Better, Best

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“Good is the enemy of best.”

A common idiom

While recently attending my grandfather’s grave, I thought about that idiom. I also remembered being in the same place and doing many of the same things some sixty-five years ago with my father. Little did we know it would be one of the last times we’d work together and Dad would be laying next to his father a short month later.

I’m not sure how helpful my seven-year-old self actually was but I felt important and I sensed the work was important. It began with a trip to the cemetery to pick up the metal flag holder. The old flags were removed, a wire brush removed the rust, and fresh black paint was applied. When the holder was reinstalled exactly in the center above the stone, American and British Flags were added. Of course, there was grass to trim and geraniums to plant. It seemed to end with a crisp salute from the foot of the grave with Dad in full dress uniform.

While I remember the steps, what I remember most is how important it was that things be done correctly. I accepted that but I’m not sure I really understood it at the time. I also knew my Dad would be “sergeant at arms” during Memorial Day ceremonies and that meant more work–rifles to clean and polish and lots of practice with his squad. Some years later squad members told me he expected perfection, from keeping in step and moving in perfect unison to hearing “one shot.” They were not complaining; they spoke with pride and a smile.

In retrospect, I appreciate the fact that I was made to feel important and I think I better understand why what we did was important. “Respect” is an important word. We demonstrate our respect by doing our best. I occasionally accept some teasing over the fact I’m not a fan of “good enough” when it comes to certain things. I’ve mellowed some but I still cringe inside if I hear more than one shot at Memorial Day Celebrations.

Distance means I can no longer really maintain my father’s and grandfather’s resting place–other than a rushed annual visit. This year was special. For years, there has been no British flag and things have looked a little lopsided. But this year I found a source for British flags!

I was further motivated by a photo request from the Netherlands where grandfather was born. It seems he will be the subject of an article by Nykle Dijkstra regarding a very few Friesians who served under another country’s flag during World War I. (He’s also included in a chapter of the book: “Far From The Front? Friesland and the Friesians in the First World War.” )

My Dad and I treated him a bit like a celebrity sixty-five years ago. Now others are as well. While by most standards he was not a war hero, perhaps he is finally getting what he deserved –one hundred years later.

With my brother’s help, we repeated many of those steps, including a gentle cleaning of the stone, weeding and trimming and some raking with our hands. We agreed we felt an odd desire to salute when we finished.

And I am left to consider the lessons I learned sixty five years ago in Pine Hill Cemetery, Chester Massachusetts. Good –or at least good enough–is, in fact, the enemy of best. Some things and some people deserve our respect and our best. While offering our respect and our best, we can feel important. And we can learn to respect ourselves.

Causes and Friends, Personal Growth, Writing Skills

Hearts, heads, hands

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No thinking – that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is… to write, not to think!

Forrester, in the movie “Finding Forrester” while mentoring Jamal

A posted comment on something I wrote recently seemed to imply the commenter was a bit envious of what she referred to as my “gift for ideas and writing.” What is this gift and where does it come from?

I believe we are all “gifted” in the sense that as human beings we have abilities and potential that we under-estimate too often. That includes the ability to generate ideas and the ability to write.

The movie “Finding Forrester” is the story of a young prodigy (Jamal) who finds a colorful but reclusive mentor (Forrester). Their relationship is a bit turbulent with some interesting twists but it’s a great film, perhaps especially for writers. When writing, I often turn to the advice Forrester gives Jamal. I’ve always loved the idea that a writer should write the first draft with his heart without much thinking. “Punch the keys, for God’s sake!” he tells Jamal.

Jamal’s story makes the point that we get better by doing things. “The first key to writing is… to write, not to think!” Punching the keys is about enthusiasm and passion. Sometimes acting enthusiastically at first evokes that enthusiasm.

I remember well teaching a writing unit to some fifth graders a few years ago. We were doing what is called “free write” — when the assignment is to simply write. The topic doesn’t matter. The work is not graded–the purpose of the unit is only to make writing take place. One of my students was truly suffering writer’s block, convinced she couldn’t think of anything to write about.

“Just write,” I told her. She stared at me blankly as though I didn’t hear her explanation. “Put the pencil on the paper… just write random words as they come to mind… see where those words take you…” I offered. Some might say I was channeling Forrester but I also know this is a technique that works because, in part, you stop thinking about the fact you can’t think of anything. When I returned to check on her later, I found she’d started an excellent horror story and was quite excited. Once her hand got moving her brain and heart followed–or perhaps more accurately, took over. Let me make it clear, this is a story of her success–not mine.

How different is writing from any other possibly underdeveloped skill? Too often we get focused on what we can’t do and our head starts controlling our hearts and hands. Sometimes we just need to start doing until our head and heart follow. Sometimes we need to let our heart lead until our head and hands follow our passion. Perhaps the definition of “gifted” is merely a matter of those moments when the heart, hands, and head start working together.

Causes and Friends, Personal Growth

Duty, Honor, Country

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Memorial Day has always been one of my favorite holidays. Not because it’s a three-day weekend that typically marks the beginning of summer. But because it’s a holiday that encourages remembering and reflection.

Some of those memories are pleasant. Among my favorites are sharing (to the degree a six-year-old can) Memorial Day preparations with my Dad. There was so much to do and it started well before the day itself. Grandfather’s grave site always needed tending… his flag holder needed painting and there were geraniums to plant. When all was ready, Dad would stand at the foot of the grave in his Navy Uniform and gave his very best salute. It seemed to me a long salute, not the sharp, snappy kind. I still wonder what Dad was thinking about his father and this soldier we were honoring.

Over sixty-five years later I find myself reading of another visit to a cemetery by another veteran. This veteran was visiting a military cemetery in Normandy–a place he’d been 75 years ago. Instead of a salute, he suggested visitors “place your hand on the marble cross and realize there is a young boy six feet beneath you who gave his life for you. Then raise your head and see the other 9,400 crosses.”

In a strange irony, shortly after reading that I was reminded of General Douglas MacArthur’s farewell speech to West Point Cadets.

You are the leaven which binds together the entire fabric of our national system of defense. From your ranks come the great captains who hold the nation’s destiny in their hands the moment the war tocsin sounds. The Long Gray Line has never failed us. Were you to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses thundering those magic words – Duty – Honor – Country.

General Douglas MacArthur

It’s a sobering thought. I’d like to think the General wouldn’t mind if I suggest every one of us has a somewhat similar responsibility.

In war or peace, we each hold our nation’s destiny in our hands–indeed we hold the world’s destiny in our hands. And if we fail, a million ghosts… will rise from their white crosses to remind us “Duty — Honor — Country.”

Read the entire text of MacArthur’s Farewell Speech.

Listen to MacArthur’s Farewell Speech on YouTube