This week, one of my clients said that her goal each day is to be fully present to what she is doing now and to enjoy what she is doing now. Why? Because when she worries about everything else she wants or needs to do, she misses this moment. “If I enter everything fully,” she said, “I will come out changed.”
I love that perspective. She’s absolutely right. It’s the classic struggle between doing and
I came across a quote of Eleanor Roosevelt’s today: “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
It spoke to the part of me that has always been afraid. A little research yielded a lot of discovery. This was a remarkably wise woman. If you’re hungry for food for thought, chew on one of these for a while.
“Confidence comes not from always being right but from not fearing to be wrong.”
Self awareness. Most people think they’re aware. They are not. [What they’re aware of are their stories about themselves.] In 2007, a Harvard Business Review article reported that the 75-person advisory council for Stanford’s business school was asked about the most important skill for a leader to develop. Their responses were nearly unanimous: self awareness.
I was surfing other blogs today and came across this entry, from another female entrepreneur. Her language is a little more down to earth than HBR’s. Check it out at her blog.
Here’s a distinction I often make for my coaching clients. Self awareness comes in many forms. The one we’re most familiar with is awareness of our strengths,
Several days ago, I awoke about 4 a.m. with a gnawing feeling that I’d missed a client appointment. I got up, went to my electronic calendar, and discovered I HAD missed an appointment. The client requested a schedule change, I said okay, and then didn’t make the change on the calendar. I felt terrible about it, and sent a note of apology to the client.
That evening, I told my partner Duff about it. “That’s why I always use a good, old-fashioned paper-and-pencil calendar,” he said. “Nothing drops through the cracks.” I was quick with a comeback.
Every week, I join several dozen people for a 90-minute tennis workout. We have five players per court, five courts, and a pro on each court. Rather than play regular games, we do drills: baseline shots on one court, overheads on the next, then one-up-one-back or volleys, through all five courts. The pros typically run the drills as fast-paced games: the first team to 5 or 7 points wins.
This week, a pro named Shelly was running us through a drill. After a long point, she called out, “Three-two.”
I said, “I thought it was four-one.”
“No,” another player said, “The score’s three-two.”
Shelly jumped into the air and yelled, “Yes! Yes! I’m right! I can’t believe it! I
One of a leader’s primary jobs is to translate potential into performance. And while most leaders understand the concept, many have trouble translating it into action, not because they lack the skill but because they lack the mental mindset.
In my experience, the potential at the front lines is tremendous. Until leaders operate from a deep belief in the inherent greatness of their people, that potential stays latent. I’m not talking about encouraging people to work harder, faster, better. I’m talking about discovering and inviting into the workplace what brings meaning and fulfillment to their lives.
I’ve not written lately. I’ve been enchanted with this November autumn.
Brilliant colors …
bold and delicate shapes …
Most of us, including my executive coaching clients, typically live in our minds. We try to think our way to creative answers for vexing and complex challenges. But we get our best ideas when we’re doing something physical: taking a shower, walking the dog, working out.
Now science is verifying that the best way to open the door on our creative juices is to drop into the world below our chins. The body can actually expand our creative thinking. Wray Herbert’s recent report on the connections between our physical and cognitive experiences describes how.
“It’s been great talking with you, but I feel my pumpkin light flickering.” That’s an escape strategy one of my clients uses with talkers who are unaware that their listeners are no longer listening.
I loved the whimsical quality of it … which may be why it helped me see my own light flickering
One of my colleagues, Bob Tschannen-Moran, has written a weekly newsletter for years. I enjoy it immensely. This week he wrote about kindness. He retold an old story with a new twist, which he borrowed from National Geographic photographer Dewitt Jones. It reminded me of how powerful little acts of kindness can be. Here it is [from provision #742 of Bob’s newsletter].
“Several years ago, there was a woman in San Francisco who