Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Visioning – painting a picture of the life you aspire to lead over the long run – is one of the most powerful tools for growing and enriching your life professionally and personally.  However, experience has taught me that you shouldn’t think of visioning as a straightforward planning exercise.  I’ve never come across a person who regularly updated a formal, personal vision statement, and I can’t imagine formally updating my own vision on a regular basis as part of some sort of personal strategic planning process. Instead, in real life, so far as I can tell, a person’s vision, rather than being formally planned according to some kind of schedule, unfolds over the course of a person’s life, through a largely informal process of learning from — being educated by — experience. Sometimes the experiences are dramatic and abrupt, easily commanding our attention and eliciting a strong emotional response: for example, you lose your job or your spouse initiates divorce proceedings.

To take some real-life examples, at the more dramatic end of the spectrum is the experience of a close friend and former teacher of mine, then in his mid-seventies — a distinguished professor of management, a Jew who had for years adamantly resisted any involvement in the religious aspect of Judaism. One afternoon he was walking by a storefront Orthodox synagogue, when he heard loud singing. As he told me later, he felt a powerful emotional jolt out of the blue. Not understanding what was going on, he stopped and looked in the open door to see dark suited and hatted men in a circle singing and dancing. Tears streaming down his face, he stood there for a few minutes, until the circle opened up and he was motioned in. He danced for a few minutes, feeling, as he told me, that he’d in some deep sense come home. For the rest of his life, “Grundy,” as I knew him, was an observant Orthodox Jew, attending synagogue faithfully and observing dietary restrictions for the first time in his adult life.

Another example of being dramatically educated by experience involves a woman I know well — a highly creative graphic artist — who’d taken a job heading the graphics department of a consulting firm, lured by the salary and other perks. You might say this was an example of poor visioning, in contrast to Grundy’s discovery of a part of himself he’d kept at bay for years. Fired after less than a year on the job, Karen — humiliated and devastated (she’d never failed in any major way professionally before this) — curled up in a ball to lick her wounds, bitter at what she saw as brutal mistreatment. But as she reflected on her experience, she eventually realized that her true professional vision — her fundamental source of satisfaction and fulfillment — was to create directly, as a graphic artist, not to manage a shop of artists. She actually came to believe that she’d sabotaged herself in her corporate job, unconsciously asking to be fired, as a result of straying from her true vision, even though she wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time.

At the less dramatic end of the change spectrum is a vision that unfolds over quite some time and feels like discovering some true side of yourself — of what you are meant to be and do. I have always loved the true story of a teenager who the summer he turned fourteen worked in his dad’s bakery in the small Illinois town where he’d grown up. With the money he saved that summer from his $36-a-week paycheck, he bought a cheap record player and, without thinking much about it, joined the classical division of the Columbia record club. Every month a new record showed up in the mail, and over a couple of years he was introduced to the mainstream classical repertory: Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Mozart — the whole crew. As he observed years later, “Listening to those records taught me that the good life I aspired to live had to include easy access to classical music, not just on record but even more important, in live performance.” 

Can you get better at visioning?  In my opinion, you definitely can, but it won’t be by sharpening your technical planning skills. Rather, the preeminent key to visioning is paying close attention to the emotional signals that are elicited by events you experience in your life journey, whether positive or negative, and asking yourself what the feelings mean, whether they might call for moving in new directions in your life. And you’ve always got to be on guard against blocking out uncomfortable feelings, such as fear and anxiety, or, worse, using alcohol or some other anesthetic to blunt the pain.      

This article is drawn from Doug Eadie’s forthcoming book, Leading Out-of-the-Box Change:  The Chief Executive’s Essential Guide To Nonprofit Innovation and Growth (Governance Edge, 2012).

12/27/2011 10:44:12 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [1]  |  Trackback
 Wednesday, December 14, 2011
When Scrooge’s former partner, Jacob Marley, informs Scrooge on that eventful Christmas Eve that he’ll be visited by three spirits – the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future – Scrooge, of course, demurs. “Thanks but no thanks” was his understandable response to his former partner’s unsettling revelation. What normal person is looking to add discomfort and potential pain to his or her life? Scrooge was comfortably living in a box of his own making with really thick – seemingly impenetrable – walls: a pretty grim box – focused on accumulating money and devoid of human intimacy – but a box he’d built and felt quite at home in. Well, fortunately for Ebenezer, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. The indignity, the anxiety – the pain – that he experienced from these supernatural visits broke down his walls and enriched his life. For Scrooge, the gain was well worth the pain.

Every holiday season when I re-read Charles Dickens’ wonderful novella, “A Christmas Carol,” or watch the classic 1951 film version starring Alastair Sim, I’m reminded not only of how fortunate Ebenezer Scrooge was, but also how critical it is that I be willing endure the psychic pain that can lead to change and growth in my own life and career. I don’t like discomfort and anxiety any more than anyone else, but as I look back, the most significant growth in my life has resulted from some kind of mental pain, even if in the mild form of a nagging dissatisfaction. The challenge, especially in today’s feel-good culture where discomfort is often seen as a malady to be treated, is to avoid looking for some kind of escape from psychic pain, whether through alcohol, compulsive exercise – whatever nostrum you prefer. Easier said than done, of course, but experience has taught me that it’s worth the effort to sit still, experience the pain, and see what it tells us about our need to change in some important way, personally or professionally.

So one of the gifts I most want this holiday season is the courage and discipline to stick with whatever psychic discomfort and anxiety come my way in the year ahead and the wisdom to figure out how I can use the pain to enrich my life.

12/14/2011 10:39:59 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [7]  |  Trackback
 Monday, December 05, 2011

After six weeks, I earned the privilege of being relocated from the ICU to a standard hospital room. It was pleasing to know that the medical experts no longer considered me on the verge of death. I was now on the miraculous road to recovery.

My first reward was a visit from my teammates. Before they entered the room, my mom thoroughly briefed them about what to expect in the hallway. She tried to explain what their friend, her son, had been through for the last six weeks, but words would not do it justice. As they all clambered into the 8x8 room, I mustered up as much enthusiasm as possible to demonstrate my latest achievement. Because I had limited mobility in my upper body, I mastered a clumsy and awkward flinging motion of my right forearm to my face. This was a shocking and grotesque action observed by my friends. They didn’t know how to respond to their teammate who once bull-dozed through the defensive line. Attempting to break the tension in the room, I jokingly, but very seriously, called out for help. “I haven’t learned how to get my hand back down.” It was warming yet painful to see my friends again. I knew for the first time how hard it was going to be to complete my mission. The way they looked at me is indescribable. It’s more than shock and empathy. It was the same “unknown” expression I had seen earlier on my father’s face. Their distance surrounded me, and the barrier between us was already built; little did I know that I would see the “unknown” look for the rest of my life.

This excerpt from JR Harding’s powerful new book, Now What? (SokheChapke Publishing), describes an incident early in JR’s inspiring true story, which is about mustering the courage and discipline to overcome quadriplegia and become a successful executive, policy leader and consultant.  JR’s courageous odyssey certainly illustrates every one of the four lessons of The Blind Visionary:  Reach out aggressively; Act on opportunities; Don’t let fear win; and Keep things in perspective.  It has been a privilege to get to know JR as a friend and colleague.

Check out JR’sFacebook page - http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002428955547 and website - www.Jrharding.com.

 
JR Harding, Author of Now What?


12/5/2011 10:17:32 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)  #    Disclaimer  |  Comments [0]  |  Trackback
Sign In
On this page....
Archives
<May 2013>
SunMonTueWedThuFriSat
2829301234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
2627282930311
2345678

RSS 2.0 | Atom 1.0 | CDF
Search
Navigation
Categories
Blogroll
About

Powered by: newtelligence dasBlog 1.8.5223.2

Disclaimer
The viewpoints that I express are my own unless otherwise indicated.

© Copyright 2013, Doug Eadie & Company

Send mail to the author(s) E-mail