Heresy as a Virtue

It’s confession time. And I must confess … “I am a heretic.” I don’t mean I’m a heretic only in a religious sense but about life itself. And get this … I’m striving to become more of a heretic all the time.

A heretic is one who chooses. Heresy comes from the Greek haireomai, "to choose". And that choice is generally one counter to the established or widely-held belief. In religion and in science, examples abound. The Catholic Church labeled Copernicus and Galileo and John Calvin as heretics for choosing beliefs different from church teachings of the time. Einstein’s work was heretical to the scientific community at first. And those who have argued for social change – including Jesus, Susan B. Anthony, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. found both struggle and success as heretics.

My heresy is not on a scale with these famous figures. Yet, I believe there is huge power in an individual’s ability to choose. And often, that choice will be an intentional break from the norms of society.

Few poems are more quoted or loved than Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. Like any great piece of art or literature, it is twice-created – once by the writer or performer, again by the audience. Many take from Frost’s masterpiece that it was the fact that the traveler went down a less-traveled byway that made the difference. And I’m in no position to deny anyone the right to see it that way. I have often chosen such paths and have been richly rewarded for doing so.

My current take on the poem though is that the path didn’t matter. The essential thing was the “choice.” Frost, in fact, intentionally provides contradictory information at critical points in the poetic tale. There was essentially no difference in the paths. But there was tremendous power in his willingness to make a choice. And the choosing – the freewill act of faith and the exercise of choice – gave that decision its power.

Frost’s traveler was a heretic – regardless which path he took. But how many of us abdicate that power to choose? Do we believe that we have no choice? Do we believe that it doesn’t matter what we choose? Do we believe that we will be “burned at the proverbial stake” if we don’t continue to march in lock-step with tradition or expectations or societal norms? I daresay we all choose the comfort of “not choosing” from time to time.

And I should be clear here that choosing to not choose to be different is a choice as well. That course of inaction may never serve as inspiration for one of the world’s best loved poems, but it is a choice. I’ve known many friends who left their early childhood determined to be everything their parents weren’t. They forsook the traditions of their ancestors – politics, religion, child-rearing style and geographical community. They made that active choice. Then they went and experienced the world, reflected on it, maybe had kids of their own. Lo and behold, they realized there was some wisdom in the old ways. They then chose to embrace much of what they had previously cast off. They were heretics when they cast the old traditions off. They were heretics when the invited back in that which had meaning for them. And they were heretics -- in the truest sense of the word -- when they blended that which was best about their past with their evolving understanding of their present reality.

On a more personal level, I find myself at an important crossroad even if I’m not in “a yellow wood”. There is much about my place in life that I treasure. Yet there are paths I wish to explore. I don’t know what lies down these paths. And truth be told, I don’t know what awaits me if I stay on the same course. I do know that I occasionally feel powerless to make a change – like I’m in rush hour traffic in a sea of other cars focused only on the tail I lights before me.

What I often forget in such moments is that I have choices. I could take the next exit and blaze a new trail to my destination. I could pull over to the shoulder and take a nap and continue the journey when the traffic subsides. I could crank up the tunes or a book on tape and “go with the flow” with a different sense of appreciation for the opportunity. I could notice the people in the other cars and really mess with their minds by smiling and waving at them as if they should know me. Each choice has consequences and most of those can’t fully be predicted. But choices abound; and there’s power in the choosing.

Not all (and probably, most) choices turn out exactly as we expect. That doesn’t diminish the power of the choice. I have learned more from the choices I have made in life that didn’t turn out well than I have from those that did. These experiences served as teachers of some of my most important lessons. And whether things turned out well or not, they always have been more valuable than the choices I allowed others to make for me. Not much learning in those.

Have you ever fretted about something for weeks or days or years? Maybe it’s as simple as which brand of refrigerator to buy or as significant as whether or not to end a relationship. You wonder about it, ask friends about it, read books on the subject, and maybe stay up late playing out unlikely scenarios in your head about it. While each of these things deserves some thought (and, I daresay, a good deal more for the latter), there comes a point when the worrying is far more devastating than the consequences of making a decision – even the wrong one. And when you actually do make that decision – especially after a good solid “gut check” – how do you feel? Almost everyone I talk to tells me there is a relief, a power in the moment of decision. It’s not always joyful, sometimes there’s even a bit of sadness to it – put there is certainly power in the decision.

If you want to be more powerful, make more decisions. It’s as simple as that. Be a heretic. Choose your own path – even if it is the same path everyone else chooses. As long as you choose to take it, you will gain the power and the virtue of heresy.

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The Road Not Taken

-- by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Return to Heresy as a Virtue
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Bullet Train Assignment

The Assignment:

Describe what I want my life to be like 10 years from now -- knowing that I can take a bullet train right through the heart of the saboteur to the reality where I'd like to get off.

But if I don’t say where I want to go, the train leaves without me. If I state it too vaguely, I may end up someplace I really don’t want to be. And it departs 45 minutes from now!

Where my bullet train will take me …

• I am happy, joyful and loving.
• I embrace new experiences and celebrate ordinary pleasures.
• I live passionately, unabashedly with openness and vulnerability.
• I enjoy and appreciate good health – with strength and energy to last me 50 more years.
• I’m (still) in love – with my wife: our relationship and emotional intimacy is growing.
• I am a resource and role model to my adult children.
• I am at peace with who I am and with my place in the world.
• I operate fully out of love – not out of fear.
• I live in abundance. There is plenty of whatever I need to do the things I really want. I have a different, enlightened sense of resources such as time, money, talents. I use them wisely but I don’t over think them.
• I have a quiet confidence that the Universe will provide – and it is so.
• We live in a home (or homes) that really speak of our intentions and our values. They relate to nature – woods and water and wildlife. They are not extravagant or wasteful. In this (these) place(s) we enjoy nature, ourselves, one another and also share experiences with family and friends.
• I have rich variety in my life: people, activities, interests, experiences.
• I imagine. I inspire. I empower. I love. I forgive. I celebrate. I create.
• I can communicate the wisdom of this chosen lifestyle in ways that inspire others.
• Through books and speeches, novel concepts and business connections, I am leaving a lasting impact on the world around me.
• I am engaged in meaningful work 80 days per year.
• I am valued and paid for my wisdom rather than just for my skills, knowledge, time or effort.

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Retiring 1 Day A Week - And 8 Reasons Why You "Can't"

“Why don’t you retire?” That’s the question I asked myself recently. I’d asked it of others – usually far older than I. But it is an interesting question for anyone – no matter the age. And what did I answer? I had a few pretty good responses to my own question. They were compelling enough to prevent me from throwing in the towel to a generally successful twenty-three year career. But still, the process of asking the question – and several related to it – was an amazingly freeing experience.

How would you answer the question? “Why don’t you retire?” If you have the time, go ahead right now and jot down a few answers to the question. If you’re already retired, then ask yourself “Why didn’t you retire earlier?”

Please don’t assume that I believe that anyone or everyone should retire. In fact, I can make a pretty good argument for never fully retiring. I actually prefer the term re-engagement. But for now, answer the question at hand. “Why don’t you retire?” or “Why didn’t you retire sooner?”

I followed up my hypothetical “Why don’t you …” question with a couple of “What if you…” questions. “If you were forced to retire yesterday, what would you stop doing today that you really don’t like to do?” Its corollary is “If you retired yesterday, what are the things you would start doing (or start doing more of) that there’s not time for currently?” Dan Sullivan, the creator of The Strategic Coach Program, refers to this as “The Retirement Trick”.

As I went through it, I discovered there were quite a few things on each list. I wouldn’t run (or even attend) most staff meetings. I wouldn’t spend time with people who don’t value my time. I wouldn’t feel guilty about not getting everything done. I wouldn’t feel it was important that my business and my clients depend on me so much. I wouldn’t wear so many hats and feel I had to make everyone happy. It’s kind of a cool feeling to imagine that world.

Now I love so many things about my career. In fact 80% of the aspects of my career didn’t make this list. But the 20% that did were quite draining. And imagining letting some of that go, changed my perspective about the career.

The flipside question was even more interesting for me. “What would I do or do more of that there just never seems to be enough time for?” Sleep, exercise, read, write, develop fresh concepts, inspire others, speak, love more deeply, spend time with those I care about, relax, dream, spend time in nature, and that’s just a start! I bet your answers are similar in some respects.

Like me, you probably have things you’ve always wanted to do – or do more of. We put them off for another day, or year, or decade. But why? We may never get to them. Or when we do, the opportunity or our health may not still be there to enjoy them. Many of these things don’t require us to retire from our jobs or other obligations. But if you’re like me, the complexities of my business or my “busyness” are convenient excuses.

So I decided to retire. It lasted five minutes. A quick look at the economy, my financial picture and my family’s needs quickly made me rethink that. Instead, I decided to retire ONE DAY A WEEK. It’s an interim step. It’s a test. It’s a change in perspective. It’s still scary – but in a good way. It’s energizing. Maybe soon it will be two or three days a week. For now, one is enough to give me a dramatically different vantage point on the world both inside and outside of my career. One day a week, I don’t go to the office. I don’t check email or voice mail. I don’t actively think about the traditional aspects of my business. And get this … I don’t feel guilty about it. I relax a bit more. I enjoy nature. I read. I write (this article, for example). I still meet with people and explore possibilities. I am imagining, designing and working toward an emerging “different” career. I’m re-engaging.

I believe that others can do so as well. Some do so because they are forced to. The downsizing and restructuring of corporate America has and continues to force people into new realities. Though that path is often harsh, at the other end of the transition, executives and laborers alike often find remarkable freedom. I’ve helped a number of them in their transitions. Though not every story is a happy one, many have found a much brighter, more fulfilling, and more rewarding future as they designed their own re-engagement.

Back to the question I posed earlier … “Why don’t you retire?” Or if that seems too drastic for you, “Why can’t you retire at least one day a week?” Here are some of the common reasons and how you might consider overcoming them.

I can’t afford it. Maybe “yes”; maybe “no”. Certainly there would be important financial considerations. But be sure that you know what you “need” before you jump to the conclusion that your current lifestyle has to be funded at the same level to bring happiness. In addition, you may be more productive working only 4 days a week.

I could never get all the work done. Chances are whether you work 10 hours less each week or 10 hours more, you still won’t get all the work done! Time urgency helps us to get the most important things done and that’s what really counts. With less time available, we get efficient – like the day before a two-week vacation. Important stuff rises to the top and we crank it out.

Others wouldn’t approve or understand. Maybe not. But this isn’t about them. It’s about you. And most people when they you tell them why and they see your courage in taking the step are very supportive. My wife, my staff, my colleagues and clients are inspired by my new energy. The leap of faith is worth the risk.

My boss wouldn’t let me. That’s a tough one – whether you work for someone else – or worse, yourself. In either case, it’s possible that he or she is a tyrant. But employers and supervisors and certainly entrepreneurs are more attuned than ever to results rather than hours being the appropriate measuring stick. Suggest a trial to your supervisor (or to yourself, if self employed). If the essential results on a weekly basis can be delivered as well with a ½ day or full day a week off, then it continues or expands. If not, the traditional approach continues. What do you have to lose?

The workplace couldn’t go on without me. That’s a scary thought. So does that mean you have a life sentence? It’s not a healthy model for the business and it’s a terrible model for you. And the reality is, if you didn’t show up for work for a day or a week or a month, life would go on. It may be a blow to your ego. But it’s true. Other ways of getting things done would emerge. But they can’t emerge with you there.

I love what I do. I do too. I just didn’t love every aspect of what I did. And those that I didn’t like took away the energy from what I did love. Figure out how to dump, delegate or otherwise offload the stuff you don’t like so you can truly treasure what you love.

I don’t know what I’d do instead. That’s okay. I always say to young people … “the best way to get a job is to have a job. And if you don’t have job, then your job is to get a job!” The same principle applies here. On one hour or ½ day or a full day a week, make this the essential task – to dream, to explore, to read or to try new things. You may love them or hate them, but you’ll have something to react to.

I have no idea how to make it happen. Why would you? You haven’t needed to. And you probably haven’t given yourself permission to believe you could or need to. But if you identified anything that you have always wanted to do or try – then you need to. And figuring out how to make it happen is partly an internal voyage. But it is also helpful to have outside help too. There are tons of books, workshops, mentors and coaches out there that can help support you – once you decide to jump.

And jumping is what it is all about. I actually call my one-day-a-weeks “Jump!” days. The exclamation point is intentional. I admire people who can throw all caution to the wind take off their proverbial clothes and dive head-first into unknown waters. It’s just not me. But seeing the river of opportunity run by me and feeling land-locked by expectations and responsibilities is no way to live either. So, consider what I did. Find some slow moving water in a shallow area with supportive people around and make a little jump. I think you’ll be glad you did.

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Out of Tune

Ever feel like things aren’t just right? They aren’t horrible. In fact, they are good – just not great. It’s like an out of tune instrument. Try as one might to play the right notes and keep time with the beat, it can’t overcome the instrument being out of tune.

I go through phases when everything is going smoothly or even spectacularly. It’s wonderful. Relationships are great. Business is great. I’m sticking to healthy habits. But over time, I get off course somehow. Not too bad at first, but over time it adds up. It can happen in my business or personal life – sometimes both. Then life becomes a struggle. No matter how much I battle, I get further off course.

I imagine a symphony orchestra -- great musicians, beautiful instruments and a skilled conductor all performing a revered masterpiece. Does it just happen that they make great music? Certainly not. They’ve practiced for years – alone and as a group. But there is something else they do before each performance. They tune and re-tune their instruments.

What would happen if they didn’t? The violins might be out of tune with the bassoon or worse, with the piano. And my musician friends tell me that since the piano is no fun to tune on the fly, everybody else has to tune to it. A great symphony of great musicians playing beautiful instruments out of tune – does NOT make great music. If you’ve watched a live symphony performance, musicians tune before they start and often between movements, because they know that it is too important to the orchestra for any instrument to be out of tune.

If a performer ignored the tuning process, she might make it through the piece without anyone noticing. What if she didn’t retune for the whole concert? What if she decided that the tuning she did on Monday should suffice for the week? For the month? Or for 20 years?

Musicians know all too well what we sometimes forget. Without retuning, we can get off course. Taking time to reflect on what we really want in life and noticing whether we’re still on track is as vital to a human being as listening to the strings of one instrument in relationship to the orchestra. And it’s not just noticing the difference, but taking action by making adjustments that keeps us in tune.

When I feel out of tune with the other performers in my business and personal life, it offers a wonderful opportunity to reflect. Maybe I’m the one IN tune and I should keep marching to my own drum. Maybe I should be in a different orchestra. But often – usually, in fact – I’ve gotten a wake up call that I need to take some time to reflect on my choices, my behaviors and my attitudes. Doing so occasionally (or better yet – regularly), allows me get back in tune with myself and with those around me.

Life is meant to be exciting and inspiring and beautiful – like a symphony. We start with a desire to participate. We develop life skills along the way. We find mentors to help and encourage us. We develop personal and professional networks that complement our strengths. We practice diligently. We find some success and learn from mistakes. But we assure continued success, by taking time to re-tune regularly.
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The Holistic Balance Sheet - edited

I spend most of my days in conversations with people about things that matter deeply to them. Commonly, we will develop and work from their “balance sheet”. However, most of us initially think only in terms of a financial balance sheet – the one with financial assets on one side and liabilities on the other. It’s an important and helpful tool to be sure. But I work from a different balance sheet – I call it “The Holistic Balance Sheet”.

If I asked you to develop your own balance sheet, you’d start by thinking of the things you own. Your home, 401K balance, business interests and automobiles come to mind pretty quickly. You may or may not readily know the value of each of these. But you can fairly easily identify the key items. They are the ones that have the biggest price tags – the most zeroes after the dollar sign, right? Or are they?

Once you’ve racked your brain trying to identify all the assets in your possession, I’d ask, “Have you truly identified the most important things? Is there anything more important than the things you have listed on the left side? Is there anything you wouldn’t trade for the things you have listed?” And usually there is. It may take a while, but you’d get the point. You may respond, “My family, my friends, my faith, my education, my experiences, my health, my … you-fill-in-the-blank.”

At our core, we recognize that “money” isn’t the only thing that matters. Often, its value is far less than important relationships, health and experiences. But most of us forget this from time to time. Don’t we?

So why is so little time, energy, worry, attention, planning, accountability is given to these non-financial assets – the really important ones? Successful business owners, professionals and executives can often fall into the deepest traps. Living in a world of metrics, financial statements, billable hours and profitability margins, attention goes to career and to financial matters. What gets attention, often gets results.

But at what expense? What relationships don’t get the attention they should – spouse, kids, self? By ignoring or devaluing our health or relationships or very soul, how can we expect our holistic net worth to continue to grow? And even when we find success in many areas of our lives (work, health, family), is there something missing? Something we always wanted to do – a dream we gave up on – a difference we hope to make later on in life? We may not get the time.

Chances are that if you’ve found some measure of success in this world you’ve done some planning. You’ve participated in the situational analysis and strategic plan for your business. You’ve created a retirement and estate plan. We do those things because we value them. And we know that they will appreciate in value by thoughtful intentional attention.

Yet it is rare indeed to see “the most important things” integrated into these plans. When is the last time you did a situational analysis on YOU – your health, your relationships, your spiritual connection, your unfulfilled dreams? Is it written down? And have you developed a plan for how to bridge the gaps between where you are and where you want to be?

Valuing the things on the left side of the balance sheet enough to write them down is the first step. Consciously growing them is the next. And that involves the right side of the balance sheet.

Liabilities, debts, taxes due, etc. occupy the rights side of most balance sheets. They are considered the “have to’s” of life. They aren’t much fun for most of us – uninspiring at best; ominous, at worst.

In my holistic balance sheet, I define this section differently. The term I use is “contribution” – or “choose to’s”. I can’t deny the reality that taxes and debts exist. I can choose how I view these things and other important financial and non-financial “obligations” though. I do have a choice in whether I pay them – even taxes – as long as I’m willing to pay the consequences.

When I make a contribution to my financial assets, I expect a return or dividend. I may not always get one – or at least not the one I expect. But I do it in anticipation of a brighter future. I take on debt for my business or my residence because I believe they will allow me to build more value on the left side than they represent on the right side. These are contributions – “choose to’s”.

Likewise, I make right-side contributions that correspond to the other left-side “assets”. Contributions to the “emotional bank account” in each of my human relationships help me better appreciate key people in my life. In turn, they better appreciate me. Quality time with our partners, spouses, children, and friends is a contribution. Exercising is a contribution to my health. Involvement is a contribution to my community and to my life experiences.

I wouldn’t trade my experiences and the wisdom I’ve gained from them for anything. I’ve known business people who have made and lost fortunes. They tell me that they were just as “wealthy” while bankrupt as they were when they were flush with cash. The reason they say is because they have an even richer experience of how to rebuild the wealth the next time.

To be sure, this is not the typical static, snapshot-in-time balance sheet from my old accounting texts. In fact, it is quite dynamic. Some financial purists would surely argue that I’m mixing balance sheet terms with income statement terms and throwing in some spiritual mumbo jumbo to boot. Yup! That’s why I call it a holistic balance sheet.

The dynamic piece in all this is that each contribution from the right side increases the value on the left. The currency may not be U.S. Dollars. It may be deepened friendships, magnified love, greater sense of community, or the remarkable learning that only comes from temporary failure. The value of the assets grows. We may not always notice it. We may in fact be totally oblivious to the growth. It grows just the same.

And it grows best when we contribute generously. The more I contribute to my 401K, the more it will grow in the long-run – despite temporary setbacks due to stock market fluctuations. The more time I spend with my son doing what he wants to do, the richer our relationship will be as we grow older. The more involved I choose to be in my community, the more I’ll appreciate it and enjoy the experiences.

A quick look around the world presents tragedy after tragedy. Economic uncertainty abounds. If I base my attitude on my retirement plan balance or my short-term income projections, I could choose to be depressed. But why would I look at only one aspect – the least important aspect – of my holistic balance sheet? I have a beautiful family, decent health and a community that nurtures my soul by reminding me that I’m part of something bigger than myself. I am blessed indeed. I suspect that most of us would have to admit the same.

The left sides of our balance sheets abound with riches most of the world can’t even imagine. Some of us appear wealthy financially, yet are impoverished in our relationships. Some bask in untold richness of unique experiences that rest of us may never know – unless we ask. None of us has everything we might wish for – and that’s probably a good thing. Yet each of us has much for which to be thankful. And by continuing to invest and to reinvest, we can continue to grow our own balance sheets. By doing it together, perhaps we can build the holistic health and wealth of the world.
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“What do I want from life?” … as of April 9, 2009

I want abundant joy. Not the kind of joy that people only recognize at holidays and birthdays. I want to wake up each morning glad that I am alive and on a journey. I expect to see my share of sorrow. But in those moments I want to be able to see that it is because of past joy, that I feel the sorrow. And I want to know that because of my willingness to embrace the sorrow that joy will reemerge. And I will be stronger – more joyful – again.

I want love. I want it from my wife. I want it from my children. I want it from other family and friends. And I would love to find it from a far wider local or world community. But as much as I want that love to be expressed by others. I don’t need it for me to feel loved. I can love myself. I can recognize that I am part of the beautiful Universe – part of the creation itself. I am worthy of love -- with no effort, no grand achievements required.

I want to find and express my purpose on this earth. I may be here for a long time. On the other hand, I could be experiencing my last moments here. Either way, I want it to count – to matter. And I believe it does. Among the few distinguishing features of humans when compared to other living beings is the knowledge of the fact that we are not immortal. I am aware of it. I don’t fear it. I don’t relish it. But at my best, I know that considering it and asking answering the great questions of life – is a large part of my purpose here. So if I should not get the time to finish this sentence – at least I’m fulfilling a part of my destiny. Whew … made it that far!

I want to get and stay more in touch with Nature. I am of this earth, this universe. Science tells me that everything about me and everything around me was there at one point of singularity – the Big Bang. Perhaps science and philosophy will evolve to offer a more plausible story of creation. But for now this one is as good as it gets. And it says that everything is connected – no ... everything is everything – the same everything. The illusion that I am apart from others or other things is just that – an illusion. The same atoms and molecules that dwell inside you are in me. The breath I just took contains some of the same air molecules exhaled by Julius Caesar or Jesus or Buddha or Mohammed hundreds or thousands of years ago. And the atoms in those same molecules and the ones in my toes and all the atoms inside my laptop and those at the far reaches of the universe were there part of the same point of singularity. To get in touch with Nature is to be in touch with myself.

I want teach my children to love, to think, to work and to share. I really do. And I have learned by now that I can’t control anyone but myself. I’ve even learned that it is tough to control myself. Still, I want to teach my children these basics of life. I can’t be sure they will learn them. I can’t be sure that just learning them will be enough. But they serve me well when I remember them. And I find it difficult to identify more useful life skills than these. What is amazing is that I sometimes need to be reminded of them myself. And often, my children are my best teachers.

I want to teach love, because I want to learn and experience love more fully. I know that when I am most loving, it is because I love myself. This is what I most want for my kids. I want them to acknowledge their own worthiness, their beauty, their holiness. It’s not such an easy thing to do. I have struggled with and continue to struggle with the concept. I often judge myself as worthy only when I am accomplishing things. Yet, there is always more that could be or could have been done. And by that measure, I come up short. It is so easy to measure myself and my kids and others in this way. When I do, I devalue them and encourage them to devalue themselves. Love is not subject to conditions – as in “if you are smart or good or do as I say” – no, love is always accepting of the other – even when we don’t measure up in other ways. I want to love myself. I want to love others – all others. I want to model this for my kids and for the wider world.

I want to encourage others and myself to think. I do it often. But I don’t always do it as I’d like. Too often, I engage in self-limiting thinking. Dreaming is good thinking. Considering others is good thinking. Imagining, envisioning, pondering – all good, I believe. There have been great thinkers throughout time. And regardless of our IQs, I believe we’re all capable of great thinking. Mine comes best when my mind and body are relaxed. My toughest challenge comes in finding balance. When I don’t think enough, I miss out. When I think too much, I fail to trust my instincts—which are an important part of thought.

I want to enjoy and share the joy that comes from work. It is possible to exist on this earth – at least for a while – doing absolutely nothing but eating, sleeping and going to the bathroom. If one is born to riches, perhaps there is no need to toil – physically or mentally. But what joy or purpose is there in that? So much of life is experienced in finding one’s purpose and living it. And an important part of that is in contributing to the world through work. Even the most mundane tasks can connect us to ourselves and to our Universe. Washing dishes, cleaning floors, building roads, teaching children, defending the accused – they are all endeavors that connect us to something besides ourselves. They create value.

I hope to continue to create value in my world. There are many ways to do so. I have long struggled with picking just one. I fail miserably at that goal. I can do so through my profession. And in one lifetime, I can have many professions. I can also do so through my avocations. I can show appreciation for all those who work for a better world. In doing so, I honor my own endeavor to bring value to the world as well as increasing the likelihood that others will continue in their quest.

I want to share. I want my kids to know how to share. And I want to empower a weary world to unleash its abundance through a greater spirit of generosity. Most of us in the developed world have homes and jobs and people who love us. We are so blessed that we cannot even understand the plight of others. We can try. We can imagine. But it is difficult to truly “get it”. But something wonderful happens when we choose to look outside of ourselves. We can choose to do with less – even when society tells us that we should focus on our own comfort (with expensive cars, fine wines, and other luxury items). We can feed our souls so much better by giving – of our time, talent and treasure. I want to be generous. I want to live with an abundance mentality. I can’t do that by ignoring myself and my own needs. I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work. But when my essential needs are met – physical, spiritual, mental and social – I can gain more by giving than by getting.

I want health. By many measures, I have so much better health than many; it seems absurd to speak of it. I have never faced serious medical problems. I have never had surgery or the need for it. I have never been truly hungry. My health issues are mostly within my control. And I have not chosen very wisely. I eat and drink things I know are not good for me. I exercise less than I could. I sleep less than I should. As a result, I’m overweight and overstressed. Perhaps I should say that I’m really under-height and under-relaxed. But it wouldn’t change the fact that I my lifestyle choices are not in line with what I say I want. I intend to change this by changing both my intentions and my actions. The stakes are too high not to. In order to have the energy to love and think and work and share; to teach others to do so as well; I have to take care of myself.

I want to continue to co-create the world around me. I’m not naive enough to believe that I can change the world alone. Nor am I oblivious to think that I can’t have a significant role in the project. By tapping into my strength and the strengths of others, unlimited power is available. When focused, this power can change the world or at least certain parts of it. I will be part of that change. I have all the power necessary to direct that change. By centering and by connecting with my Source, I can help shape my world.

I want to be clearer about things. I want to “second-guess” less. I want to be confident in my decisions and actions. I can “act” that way. And I do. But my internal dialogue belies that external confidence. When I am truly at peace – with myself and with my place in the world – I can focus my efforts in ways that amaze others and make my self-doubt inconsequential. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Painful as they may occasionally seem, they don’t haunt me. Even when things don’t turn out as I would have them, I have learned from the actions. What is most frustrating – what causes grief and regret – is failure to act on impulses because I was unclear about what I wanted or was unwilling to take a risk.

I want to be sincere in all I do. It would be nice to be right and to be smart and to be eloquent and to be attractive and to be loved by all people at all times. Since that is not possible. I would be happy to be authentic. It’s harder than it sounds. It means not trying to be somebody else. It means having some people not like what they see in me –and being “okay” with it. That’s what’s hard. But the alternative is far worse – to try to please a diverse and fickle world and to lose myself in the process. Tempted as I am to seek the opinions and approval of others as guides to my destiny, I must look inside myself for the answers. There is truly only one person who needs to look into my eyes and pass judgment on my sincerity and character. Progress starts from telling the truth – my truth. That truth may be elusive. It may appear contradictory to others. It may be evolving. But whatever it is for me now or in the future, I must speak it.
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Personal Mission Statement

I embrace life as an active participant and co-creator of the future.

I search for meaning and find meaning in the search.

I am a loving partner and soulmate to Barb. Together we challenge one another to personal growth.

I help prepare my children to become active participants and co-creators of life in their universe. I encourage them to love, to work, to think and to share.

I improve the world by envisioning and working toward a more meaningful society and by supporting causes in line with that vision through my time, talents and treasure.

I act as a financial mentor for others through my planning, earning, saving, giving and stewardship.

I am at my best when I breathe deeply; eat healthfully; exercise my mind and body regularly; love unabashedly; work diligently; seek and speak honestly; and demonstrate appreciation for “the sacred” in the Divine, in others, and in myself.
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I Said "No Mushrooms"!

I’m having lunch at my favorite Thai restaurant. I really do love it. There are exotic flavors, friendly service and a reasonable price. What more could a guy ask for? Well … how ‘bout “No mushrooms!”

That’s what I say. “I’d like the tofu ginger without the mushrooms -- not the black ones or the other ones -- no mushrooms.” Mary, my favorite waitress at my favorite Thai restaurant, writes it down and reads it back to me. She understands. I’m a regular. She barely has to ask me what I want or how I want it since I’m there so often. Yet, I think to myself, “I’m still going to get mushrooms.”

It’s amazing how what we say we want isn’t always what we intend. A friend of mine tells me that whether I like it or not, “results always equal intentions.” I resist -- both in my head and to his face. But time after time, he’s right. I hate that! I believe that my wants and dreams and desires and hard work and drive do lead to successful results when those results are positive. When things don’t turn out the way I want, though, I want to believe that it is someone else’s fault. The universe isn’t cooperating today. Stuff happens. I’m a victim!

I wanted my tofu ginger without mushrooms. Right? I told Mary. Right? My intention must have been to get a fungus-less lunch entrée.

I also want to be healthier. I want to be more trusting. I want to be less stressed. World peace would be nice too. But I have to confront my friend’s universal truth -- results always equal intentions. And at my core, I know that there is something more powerful than my wants. It is my intention. My intention is strong. It works through my subconscious. When there is dissonance between my wants and my intention, the wants (no matter how desirable) take a back seat.

It’s crazy. I know. Why in the world would a guy who has hated mushrooms for forty-plus years -- can’t stand to look at or smell them, finds the texture “icky” and the taste absolutely appalling --subconsciously intend for them to be put on his plate? I will never know for sure. But perhaps … I like telling this story. Perhaps … I like the attention. Perhaps … I remember the thousands of times I had to “suffer” (with the attention of my parents advocating for me) with plain McDonald’s hamburgers that always came with pickles on them. I hate pickles almost as much as mushrooms!

As I write this, I’m already getting worked up about it. My juices are flowing-- the stress juices -- the victim juices -- the “why-does-this-always-happen-to-me juices”. Perhaps I get something out of the experience. Perhaps, on a subconscious level, I’d actually rather have the perverted adrenaline rush that comes from getting mushrooms on my plate than the sweet and exotic and satisfying taste of a mushroom-free meal.

Mary returns. It’s a busy day at the restaurant. She’s moving quickly as she delivers my tofu ginger and my friend’s cashew chicken. She didn’t have time to notice. But you can be sure that my eyes are peeled for them. Before she can even put it on the table I’m searching for one of those slimy fungi. How can I even think that I don’t secretly want to find one? Joy of joys -- tragedy of tragedies -- my search is not in vain. Three of them! And that’s without even digging through the otherwise delectable dish. Mary apologizes and assures me she’ll get it fixed and back out to me. I’m affirmed! Intentions always equal results.

If I really wanted to be honest, I’d have to acknowledge that there are a whole host of reasons why I subconsciously intend for things to happen even though they are in conflict with what I say I want. I get something out of being unhealthy. I get to eat more than I should. I get something out of being untrusting. I get to feel that I have superior information. I get something out of living a stressful life. I get to feel the adrenaline rush and I get to feel welcome in a society that wears stress like a badge of honor.

Mary returns with the tofu ginger. It’s fungus-free. It’s cooler than it would have been when she brought the same plate out the first time. (I’m pretty sure it’s the same meal with the little guys plucked out.) I don’t care. I don’t have to see them or feel them. And Thai spices do a great job of covering up the disgusting taste of mushrooms. It’s still tasty and I enjoy a wonderful conversation with my friend. It’s always an experience.

And an experience was really what I was looking for. This experience offers me a reflection as to how I can get what I really want in life. More accurately, it shows me how to not get what I don’t want. When I no longer intend to have a “mushroom experience”, I’ll probably stop getting mushrooms in my tofu ginger. Thank you, Mary. Thank you, mushrooms.
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The Navigator

It happened over 60 years ago in the South Pacific during the Second World War. A young ensign was fresh out of Midshipman’s School where he had been studying a specific type of mathematics – Spherical Trigonometry. Naval officers needed to know this type of math so they could figure out their position on the globe before Global Positioning Satellites were invented.

So one night while not on duty, the young ensign was practicing his skills from the deck of the ship. He used an instrument called a marine sextant to determine the angle of the stars relative to sea level. The readings were then used to plot the position of the ship. What he found was that his coordinates did not match those that were officially posted. In other words, the ship was off course – significantly.

He took this information to the ship’s navigator who responded by explaining that the ensign must be wrong. He did not appreciate being called into question and accused him of insubordination. The ensign accepted the scolding.

It turned out that the captain liked to show the young officers that he was “one of them”. Over mess the next evening he commented that his door was always open. So the young ensign approached him with the situation. The captain suggested that they meet on the deck later that evening so that he could dust off his own sextant and they would see why there was a discrepancy. They did and based on what they found, they went immediately back to the ship’s navigator.

The captain explained, “Young Ensign Lyon here seems to think that the ship is off course”. Immediately, the navigator, who was a lieutenant, interrupted and apologized for his subordinate for bothering the captain with his foolish claim. He assured him that it would not happen again.

The captain replied that he was sure that it wouldn’t because “the interesting thing is … the ensign is right”. The lieutenant reminded the captain that he was the ship’s navigator and therefore the ensign’s judgment could not supersede his own. At which point the captain corrected him noting that he was the navigator – past tense. The new navigator would be Ensign Lyon here. “But sir, he can’t be the navigator of a whole convoy of ships as an ensign.” To which the captain responded by removing one of the lieutenant’s bars and placing it on my father’s lapel promoting him to the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade.

The captain concluded the conversation noting that “I don’t need another yes man. I need someone who’ll tell me like it is, whether it’s what I want to hear or not.”
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The Holistic Balance Sheet

I spend most of my days in conversations with people about things that matter deeply to them. Commonly, we will develop and work from their “balance sheet”. However, most of us initially think only in terms of a financial balance sheet – the one with financial assets on one side and liabilities on the other. It’s an important and helpful tool to be sure. But I work from a different balance sheet – I call it “The Holistic Balance Sheet”.

If I asked you to develop your own balance sheet, you’d start by thinking of the things you own. Your home, 401K balance, business interests and automobiles come to mind pretty quickly. You may or may not readily know the value of each of these. But you can fairly easily identify the key items. They are the ones that have the biggest price tags usually – the most valuable assets, right? Or are they?

I often ask people – once they’ve racked their brains trying to identify all the assets in their possession – if they’ve truly identified the most important things. “Is there anything more important than the things you have listed on the left side? Is there anything you wouldn’t trade for the things you have listed?” And usually there is. It may take a while, but they usually get it. They may respond, “My family, my friends, my faith, my education, my experiences, my health, my … you-fill-in-the-blank.”

These other newly-identified items seem to fall into two general categories: relationships and experiences. So I think of the left side of my holistic balance sheet this way – as having three sections: financial, relationships and experiences.

I ask others – and myself sometimes – “which section is least important?” Not everyone answers the same way. For most of us, they are all important. But most of us recognize that “money” isn’t the only thing that matters. Often, its value is far less than important relationships and experiences. On the right side, most of us think of what we “owe” – liabilities, debts, taxes due, etc – think of them as “have to’s”. These aren’t much fun for most of us – uninspiring at best; ominous, at worst.

In my holistic balance sheet, I define this section differently as well. The term I use is “contribution” – or “choose to’s”. There are financial aspects. I can’t deny the reality that taxes and debts exist. I can choose how I view these things and other important financial and non-financial “obligations” though.

To be sure, this is not the typical static, snapshot-in-time balance sheet from my old accounting texts. In fact, it is quite dynamic. Some financial purists would surely argue that I’m mixing balance sheet terms with income statement terms and throwing in some spiritual mumbo jumbo to boot. Yup! That’s why I call it a holistic balance sheet.

When I make a contribution to my financial assets, I expect a return or dividend. I may not always get one – or at least not the one I expect. I make a monthly mortgage payment – I choose to – for a whole slew of financial and non-financial reasons. I want to own my home. I can’t afford to buy it outright. I want a tax deduction. I want to lock in a specific payment amount. I don’t want a landlord telling me what I can and can’t do there. I want my children to have a sense of place. I love the neighborhood. There are plenty of other reasons as well. And the same can be said of my contributions to my portfolio, my 401K, the auto I drive, and the children’s education account. I can even argue that I expect a return from both contributions to charities (donations) and to my government (taxes). Again, I may not get exactly what I expect or want in these areas.

Likewise, I make right-side contributions that correspond to the left-side “asset” sections. Contributions to the “emotional bank account” in each of my human relationships help me better appreciate key people in my life. In turn, they better appreciate me. Quality time with our partners, spouses, children, and friends is a contribution. Being interested in what they are interested in is a contribution as well. And just listening – not to problem solve, not to judge – just to understand, pays huge dividends. This is true for families, work colleagues, faith communities – even for business or political adversaries.

I would also argue that we invest time, energy, and financial resources in experiences as well. I wouldn’t trade my experiences and the wisdom I’ve gained from them for anything. I’ve known business people who have made and lost fortunes. They tell me that they were just as “wealthy” while bankrupt as they were when they were flush with cash. The reason they say is because they have an even richer experience of how to rebuild the wealth the next time. I haven’t seen the peaks or the valleys that these folks have, but I have learned from the many good and not-so-good things that life has thrown at me. My education, formal and otherwise, is a treasure. But the knowledge, the education and the wisdom don’t just appear. They are earned by the investments I’ve made in them.

The dynamic piece in all this is that each contribution from the right side increases the value on the left. The currency may not be U.S. Dollars. It may be deepened friendships, magnified love, greater sense of community, or the remarkable learning that only comes from temporary failure. The value of the assets grows. We may not always notice it. We may in fact be totally oblivious to the growth. It grows just the same.

And it grows best when we contribute generously. The more I contribute to my 401K, the more it will grow in the long-run – despite temporary setbacks due to stock market fluctuations. The more time I spend with my son doing what he wants to do, the richer our relationship will be as we grow older. The more involved I choose to be in my community, the more I’ll appreciate it and enjoy the experiences.

What I find really fascinating is that reinvesting the dividends from one asset to another seems to cross-pollinate the others for an even greater measure of holistic wealth and health. I choose to contribute to a number of organizations and causes. It is a choice. And I choose to give of my time, my talents and my treasure. I am rewarded in a variety of ways. My experiences are richer to be sure. I have a tremendous network of generous and concerned friends. They continually offer to help me in both my business and community work. The result of this effort is much greater than the some of the parts – both individually and on a larger scale.

I return to this concept from time to time. Lately, it has been very much on my mind. A quick look around the world presents tragedy after tragedy. Economic uncertainty abounds. If I base my attitude on my retirement plan balance or my short-term income projections, I could choose to be depressed. But why would I look at only one aspect – the least important aspect – of my holistic balance sheet? I have a beautiful family, decent health and a community that nurtures my soul by reminding me that I’m part of something bigger than myself. I am blessed indeed. I suspect that most of us would have to admit the same.

Another key concept regarding the holistic balance sheet is the concept of “appreciation.” I learned a long time ago – and get to relearn occasionally –that to increase the value of “things”, we need to appreciate them. To “appreciate” literally means to “increase in value”. And the most important things to appreciate aren’t things at all – they are people (including ourselves), our experiences, our communities, our universe and Life itself. People with a genuine sense of gratitude are never poor – no matter what their bank account says.

A wise man once told me that it is virtually impossible to be depressed and thankful at the same time. I find it to be true for myself. Yet how often do I forget to notice how fortunate I am? How many times do I complain about minor inconveniences as though I was being deprived of basic human rights? And how seldom do I take time to express my gratitude for the blessings I enjoy?

A sure-fire way to be “richer” is to be appreciative. Practice gratitude. And do it regularly. If we want to feel “rich” on Thanksgiving Day, be thankful for that day. If we want to be and feel richly blessed every day, then be thankful every day. Try writing down at least one thing for which you are thankful each and every day. Actually write it down. It can be large (health, family, a home, a job) or small (a modest act of kindness, a tasty meal, a precious memory from the past, a sunset). Whatever it is, write it down. Think about it. Meditate on it. Offer a prayer for it. Appreciate it. That’s what makes it and everything else in our lives more valuable – appreciating them.

To grow the wealth in your world, share that appreciation with others. Have you ever written a thank you note? How did it make you feel? Have you ever received a genuine thank-you? How did that make you feel? It is one of the magic elements of the universe – expressed gratitude. The alchemists of the past searched for centuries without finding a substance to match it in power. Genuinely expressed gratitude costs little or nothing – yet it increases the value of the “thanker” and the “thankee”. It magnifies the value of the deed. It increases the likelihood of future good works. It builds a greater awareness of the richness of life itself.

Along with the other items on the right side of the holistic balance sheet, gratitude is part of the dynamic process of abundance. Contributions of energy, focus, time, talent and treasure on an intentional basis pay big dividends. We get healthier with exercise, more financially stable by investing wisely, have more interesting lives by trying new things and have a greater spiritual connection to others and to our Source with conscious living.

The left sides of our balance sheets abound with riches most of the world can’t even imagine. Some of us appear wealthy financially, yet are impoverished in our relationships. Some bask in untold richness of unique experiences that rest of us may never know – unless we ask. None of us has everything we might wish for – and that’s probably a good thing. Yet each of us has much for which to be thankful. And by continuing to invest and to reinvest, we can continue to grow our own balance sheets. By doing it together, perhaps we can build the holistic health and wealth of the world.
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What Do You Want?

It’s got to be one of the simplest and most asked questions of all time. And just about anyone might ask it of you. A parent might ask a child, “Jimmy, what do you want?” as in “milk, food, diaper change.” An exhausted waitress might ask, “Sir, what do you want?” as in “a burger, fries or cup of coffee.” A disrespectful teen might ask “What do you want?” as in “it’s my life and you can’t understand it so I don’t understand why you don’t just leave me alone to make horrible choices with my life.” Each “What do you want?” is really a different question. And, to be sure, there are thousands more ways the question might be asked. And even the above interpretations aren’t so easy to answer depending on who we are developmentally and emotionally at the time.

But the question I ask is deeper still. It’s the eternal question. It takes time to ponder. And when you think there’s a simple answer, usually it’s because you haven’t looked deeply enough. “What do you want … from Life?” “How do you want to spend the rest of your time on this planet?” “What have you always wanted but have never let yourself believe you could have?” Yes, these are the questions of the psychoanalyst, the clergyperson and the sage. But at some level, they are the ultimate human questions.

I’ve been asking the question of myself a lot lately. Perhaps I’m right on time. At age 45, many would peg me as ready for my midlife crisis. But I’ve tackled the question before – at 18 and at 22. I’ll face it again – at 65 and 80. Hopefully, the question will come to visit occasionally for as long as I’m alive. But my answers have changed. I suspect that is only healthy.

Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you are open to facing the question.

For me, it came as it often does a result of some mild burnout. I say mild, because my life was really great. I’ve been practicing my profession for 23 years. By most any standards, I’m good at it – successful beyond what I might have imagined. I have a healthy, happy family and am surrounded by great friends. My faith community helps support me and I am appreciated for the time I volunteer to the greater community. Life is more than good!

Yet … something in me wasn’t satisfied. They say that when you’re green, you’re growing. When you’re ripe, you start to rot. I’m not sure that everyone could catch the smell, but I was starting to. I’ve always believed that there’s a delicate balance to be found in living intentionally (with forethought and planning) and being open to what comes our way. And I found myself doing neither. Oh, I’d plan … and plan … and plan. I’d make commitments – to too many things and people. I hired consultants and coaches. I read books and attended seminars. I sought the advice of friends and mentors. And I’d stayed open to change – in fact I’d change my focus daily.

But I had forgotten to listen to the one and only expert on the subject at hand – ME! I needed to open up dialogue with the inner voice. That voice has served me well when I’ve been wise enough and centered enough to ask “What do you really want?” He, alone, is willing to answer in line with my self interest, not just as I believe others would have me answer. The inner voice isn’t bound by the “ought to’s”, the ego, the guilt, or doubts. He doesn’t have to evaluate or challenge ideas. My “rational” mind can do that just fine on its own – and probably will.

The inner voice is often not the final word. It may not always get its way. But in ignoring it, one can pay a painful cost. There are things deep inside me that I had denied. The responsibilities of my growing family and growing business as well as my commitments to the community took me further and further from that inner voice – from my essence. I forgot that I wanted to challenge people to grow – not just their portfolios. I had devalued my real unique gifts as a human being by trying to be all things to all people. I ignored the fact that for me to serve others and the Universe best, I need to act with enlightened self interest. Anything less is a falsehood to myself and to those I say that I serve.

And so, today, I begin in earnest, to challenge myself and to challenge those who care to listen to become reacquainted with the inner voice. May we have extraordinary dialogue on some of the simplest yet most profound questions of all time. May we have the courage to take the voice seriously. And may the earnest quest help us to come closer to getting what we want.
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The Margin of Life

Have you noticed that there never seems to be enough time for everything – especially the really important things? It is tough for many of us to squeeze in 10 minutes to simply breathe with no other purpose or to notice a sunset or to gaze into a child’s eyes without worrying about changing a diaper.

We all get a few of these moments, but they have to be squeezed in. Maybe it’s more accurate to say they are “squeezed out” – out to the margins of our lives. Imagine your own life as a typed sheet of paper. How big are the margins on that sheet? 1 ½ inches all the way around? 1 inch? A half inch? Do you find the margins getting smaller? I know that for me it is very easy to continually add things to the page. With a letter or an article, perhaps I have the luxury of going to a second page. Not so with life, though.

There are career obligations for many of us. That takes forty hours – or fifty – or more. Plus, there’s the time commuting to work. For some, it means significant air travel. And almost everyone I talk to tells me that the expectations and demands on all those hours are higher than ever. As companies have become “leaner”, the margins for us as employees or as business owners have become much smaller. Oh, and then there’s time when we’re not working that we all spend “thinking about” work. Our supposed – “leisure time” is spent checking email, voicemail and PDA’s.

If you’re like me, there are also a few obligations outside of work as well. We volunteer time for scouting and soccer and to our faith communities. We may serve on committees or non-profit boards. This work is important and can be very rewarding. Still, it takes space on our page and often pushes the text further to the edge – shrinking our margins.

At the same time, those of us with families want to be there for them. We rush to kids’ sporting events and school plays. We try to combine activities be more efficient. Pick up a gallon of milk on the way home from work, and while you’re at it, drop off the dry cleaning, and make sure you get there in time to help the kids with their homework! Don’t you just feel like a hamster that keeps running around on a wheel from which he can’t escape?

There are times that I feel that I have 1/100th of an inch margins on my page. I have squeezed so much on it and have left myself so little buffer.

In addition to time, I think our society has taught itself to do the same with other resources as well. Consider finances. The average American used to actually spend less than they earned – leaving a margin. That margin has shrunk to the point that it’s non-existent. Some studies say that we have a negative savings rate. That’s like the message I occasionally get from my computer printer – “printed area is outside the margins”.

Margins are good. Ask advertisers and graphic artists. They know the power of “white space” in an ad. Fewer words are often more powerful. Or in the case of Nike, a simple swoosh can suffice.

But margins in our lives are essential. It is in the margins that we renew ourselves. We reenergize ourselves. We rediscover ourselves. A few professions have figured this out. Often in academia and occasionally in the clergy, professionals take sabbaticals. Sabbaticals represent time away from the routine – sometimes thinking, sometimes apparently doing nothing – more often, doing something totally different. Always, gaining new perspectives that can’t be seen while running at full speed on the hamster wheel.

The root word of sabbatical is the same as Sabbath. In the Judeo-Christian and other traditions the concept of a day of rest used to be common. Stores and restaurants and even gasoline stations were closed. Kids didn’t have basketball games. Committees didn’t meet. Nobody was expected to check their email to see what was happening at the office. Time was spent with family, with nature, and with things spiritual – however one defined it. Such days were opportunities to renew and to reconnect with one’s self, one’s family and with one’s spiritual Source.

Farmers of old, too, knew of the concept. Instead of relying on chemicals to juice up their mineral-deprived cropland, they routinely allowed a field to lie fallow so that it could rest. And they held back some of the grain from their harvest in store for the future – perhaps for leaner times. They also typically allowed nature herself to define their sabbaticals. When the sun went down, it was time to rest. When the days were shorter, it was time to repair the equipment and rejuvenate the body. They understood margins.

What would it look like if you could get your margins back? I know that we’re not likely to change all of society and return to the way things were 100 years ago. But what if we could find a few ways to restore some of the margin in our lives? Would you feel better? Would you have more energy for the many activities that you do? Might you even become more creative and perhaps more effective at those things? I am convinced that you would.

Don’t expect margins to instantly reappear without some intentionality on our part though. Let’s look at some ways we can invite them back in:

1. Make it a stated priority. Tell yourself, your family and others that it is important to create and honor the idea of margins.
2. Schedule it. Before the calendar or PDA gets full of the external world’s priorities, put yours in there. Be really clear that they are priorities and be very cautious in relinquishing your “sacred” time.
3. Identify activities for these times. Even if you create the space, if you’re out of practice in enjoying margin, you may have a tendency to let others usurp that time. Have a list of things that rejuvenate you (gardening, hiking, yoga, listening to music, reading, writing, etc.).
4. Pick the time and place that works for you. Perhaps the weekends aren’t the best for you. It can be any day, any time for any amount of time. If it’s more than you’re currently giving yourself … it’s a good start!
5. Notice how you feel. This is important. When you are enjoying your margin time, do you feel more energized? Also, as you go back into your routine, does that energy come with you? And finally, does the anticipation of future margin moments give you more enthusiasm and hope?
6. Gradually expand to larger blocks of time. If you currently only find minutes of margin, try hours. If you sometimes enjoy a full day of margin, try to schedule several days together. If you are already good at taking a week vacation (no voice mail or email, etc), consider a one-month to six-month sabbatical. Wherever you are, start from there.

Once you’ve created a bit more margin, consider ways to bring the sabbatical or margin mindset back into the everyday moment-by-moment world. I find that when my mind and body remember what it feels like to have no cares, the same feeling can help transform the major stressors of life. When caught in traffic, frustrated about the fact that I’ll be late for a meeting, knowing that there’s nothing I can do about it … I might as well relax! Breathe! Remember the beach from my last vacation or the rainbow I was blessed enough to see the week before.

Margin is very much about mindfulness. Many of those whom I admire most are masters of mindfulness. They stand out from the crowd – not for their material successes, but for their relaxed insight and perspective. And they don’t have to be on a mountain in Tibet or reading holy books to find it. They live it in their daily lives. They are nurses and janitors, attorneys and laborers, farmers and single moms. They, too, lead busy lives. But somehow, they manage to stay open to the wonder of life, open to the possibilities, open to the joys. They smile with authenticity. They notice beauty. They know that they can do anything, but they can’t do everything. And what they do ... they do with margin for humility.

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