One of the most inspirational concepts I’ve ever encountered is found in the book The Renaissance Soul by Margaret Lobenstine. The book is aimed at people with “too many passions to pick just one,” and includes the metaphor of an ice cream shop with hundreds of different flavors. It would be terribly unsatisfying if the owner told you that you could only pick one flavor, and that would be the only flavor you could have for the rest of your life; but it would be just as unsatisfying if, on the other hand, he told you that you must eat all of the flavors every day.Lobenstine suggests a very satisfying middle ground - picture a mental “sampler plate” that includes any four flavors you like. The portion sizes are a little bit smaller than usual, but you get to try four things. After a month or a year or a decade or whatever suits you, you can change your plate - all of the items on it, or one at a time.

For someone with a lot of personal and professional interests, this approach is a breath of fresh air and can result in a totally renewed spirit. Do you find it discouraging to think that you’re going to be doing the same thing for the rest of your life? If so, simply decide that this will not be the case, and use the four-plate approach to build a menu that you can be happy with.

In my case, I ended up with just three: writing, improving my physical condition, and being more present with my family. All of those other things that haunt my ambition - learning Italian, developing a great Web application or two, starting a radio theater company, and on and on and on - are still there, but they’re patiently waiting their turn. It is comforting to know that (a) they are still there, and (b) I don’t have to pay them any attention right now.

What are your four choices?

Posted on October 22nd, 2007 by James
Filed under: Self | No Comments »

“If you’re saying something is important in your life but you aren’t spending time on it, then you need to change either what you say your values are, or the way you spend your time.” - Dorothy Lehmkul, Organizing for the Creative Person

There is a disconnect in many of our lives, and it can be a startling and unsettling one once it is discovered. Picture the setting: A cocktail party, you’re surrounded by people that make slightly more money than you, dress slightly nicer. You’re feeling a bit intimidated, perhaps a bit fish-out-of-water.

One of the successful young men/ladies in the room comes up to you, shakes hands, begins with the pleasantries, and asks that pivotal question:

“So, what do you do?”

Quick, what’s your first response? It’s your job, isn’t it? You tell this person where you work, what kind of work you do, perhaps what your title is or the size of the team you manage.

Notice that the person did not ask you what you do for a living - although that much is implied, of course. But isn’t it interesting that you have just reduced your entire worth as a human being - what you do - to the mere activity that somebody pays you money for? It only represents about 24% of your hours on earth, and yet it has come to be your calling card, the first thing you offer up to someone when asked what you do.

What you do is much more than where you work, and it is much more than the money you make. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we were all confident and thoughtful enough to look that person in the eye and give the honest answer? “Oh, I’m a father of two, and I love riding the bicycle and I’m writing a novel. I also work at a plumbing supply company.” Or, perhaps, “I’m a single mom and a volunteer at my church and a waitress.”

You are the sum total of everything you do - all the wonderful stuff, all the pedestrian stuff, and yes, all the horrible stuff you try not to do but sometimes do anyway. That’s who you are. And it’s a beautiful thing.

Posted on October 19th, 2007 by James
Filed under: Family, Play, Self, Work | No Comments »

Hey! Calling all imaginary friends!
- Nada Surf

Human beings are born with an innate gift for imagination, and as we age, we gradually lose that skill. Only through conscious cultivation can we keep our creative abilities as sharp and wide-eyed as they were in the days before we knew anything about them.

In his book “How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci,” Michael Gelb uses the example of a paperclip - specifically, how many different uses can you come up with for a paperclip? In a guided exercise, he gives the reader two minutes to write down every possible use he can think of for one lone paperclip.

Most adults end up with anywhere from 4-8 uses. Children who are given the exercise, on the other hand, routinely come up with two dozen or more.

Why? Children have not yet been taught to think literally, especially when it comes to instructions. Hey, nobody said the paperclip couldn’t be made of chocolate, therefore “Eat it” is a perfectly valid use for the thing.

The end results might not always be as useful in a tangible sense as the answers generated by the Practical Adult - there are few opportunities to solve a real-world problem with a chocolate paperclip - but the message at the core of this is telling. We are born imaginative, and as life progresses, that imagination is gradually dunned out of us, bit by bit, year by year. But only if we allow it to be.

Our homework for tonight:

• Get out paper and pencil/pen/crayon/marker/whatever and do something with them that you haven’t done since you were a child - draw a picture and color it, draw a map of a made-up country and write a story about the people that live there, draw a bird’s-eye view of a castle and map out the creatures that live inside.
• Look at the food on your dinner plate tonight and view each item the way a child does. What is that green stuff, anyway? I bet it comes from the moon. There’s no way I’m eating that! Or will I try it? Maybe this is fried alien …
• Talk to your toys. What’s that? You don’t have any toys? Ah, I believe we’ve found the problem …

Posted on October 18th, 2007 by James
Filed under: Play | No Comments »

When I used to work in management, running a commercial printing facility, my philosophy about hiring was simple: I’d rather have someone with no experience, someone that I can train to do the job my way, rather than someone with a lot of experience, who is going to want to do things the way they are used to.It is wise, I think, to turn this maxim around and point it directly back at ourselves. If we are convinced we know the absolute Best Way to do something, the odds are practically nil that we will have the delightful experience of stumbling upon a (gasp!) better way to do it.

When they think that they know the answers,
people are difficult to guide.
When they know that they don’t know,
people can find their own way. (Chapter 65, Mitchell)

And letting go of The Way I Usually Do Things is liberating; it takes the burden off of you and your accumulated experience. When every step and every movement is taken like a child, experiencing things anew and breathlessly figuring out how things work, the cup is overflowing. When every step is taken against rigid, lock-stepped rules that have been too long unexamined, the cup is half-empty and draining fast through the hole in the bottom.

Give yourself permission to not know how to do everything. Approach it with a fresh mind. You will find many of your old beliefs reiterated and propped up; and you will find many new paths that are a joy to walk.

Posted on October 15th, 2007 by James
Filed under: Work | No Comments »