I just returned from a trip to the amazing Galapagos Islands off the coast of Ecuador, best known as the place where Charles Darwin first developed the theory of evolution by natural selection. Today, 98% of the Galapagos is protected as a national park, preserving the unique species of animals and birds that exist nowhere else on earth.

Because humans are not a threat, and there are no large predators on land, the wildlife has no fear of people. You can walk right up to nesting birds, sunning lizards, or nursing sea lions, and observe them at close range. Among the many animals I got to know this way were the penguins, who swam alongside us as we snorkeled.

If you watch a group of penguins for a while, you'll discover something quite interesting. On land, penguins waddle or hop, sometimes spreading their wing-flippers to maintain balance on their narrow webbed feet. Their lack of grace is frequently comical, and the only way they can travel quickly is to flop on their bellies and slide.

In the water, however, penguins are agile and fast. A diving penguin can travel up to 17 miles per hour. They zipped past us like little torpedoes, leaving streams of bubbles in their wake. Penguins in the water are masters of their environment, while penguins on land are awkward and slow.

The behavior of penguins demonstrates a phenomenon I've often observed in people. Some environments feel natural to us, and when we are in them, we are graceful and adept. But in strange surroundings, we can be clumsy and unskilled. Sometimes we can adapt to new environments, and over time become more capable in them. But not always. Penguins have been spending half their time on land for millennia, and after all that time, they are still more at home in the water.

There's a lesson here for those setting out on their own hero's journey. Your journey may lead you to unfamiliar new environments. By all means, try them out to see if they are a fit for you. You may be pleasantly surprised at how well you adapt. But you may also discover that there are some surroundings where you naturally do well, and others where you constantly struggle.

When I first decided I was going to change my profession to one that allowed me to do more good in the world, I was led to give many talks and workshops in far-away cities. On a typical trip, I would get on an airplane, spend one night at my destination, give my presentation, and fly home again, all within 48 hours. These whirlwind business trips were a challenge for me, but I struggled to adapt. "I should be able to do this," I told myself. After several years of business travel where I got sick, came home exhausted, or suffered from stress and anxiety, I finally realized my mistake. Natural selection was at work, telling me I was not adapted for this environment!

I do infinitely better when I can either sleep in my own bed at night, or spend several days at a destination, becoming acclimated to it. So now when I give presentations to far-away audiences, I either deliver a teleclass or webinar from home, or combine my visit with a vacation where I spend at least three or four days in the area where I am speaking. What a difference! Instead of being an awkward, uncomfortable penguin on land, I become a graceful, at-ease penguin in the water.

Each of us is naturally well-suited to certain environments. But in other surroundings, while we can certainly survive, we will never be at our best. So if you should discover that at heart you are really a penguin, start swimming.

Labels: life purpose

Many years ago, at a challenging time in my life, I had a dream of accomplishing an important goal in San Francisco. At the time I envisioned that goal, I was stranded in Indianapolis with no job and no money. I eventually got to San Francisco, and accomplished my goal. But I had to get there by way of Toronto.

Now a quick glance at any map will tell you that Toronto is not on the way from Indianapolis to San Francisco. Since this chain of events took place in the middle of winter, going to Toronto was certainly not going to bring me any better weather. I didn't have a permit to work in Canada at the time I went there, so it wasn't going to be any easier to find a job, either.

But what did exist in Toronto was one person who I believed cared about me, and another person who I thought would give me some money. It turned out I was right on both counts. I got enough money to rent a room; with a place to stay, I found an under-the-table job; with someone nearby who cared about me, I stuck out the lousy job for six weeks and saved up enough money for a bus ticket to San Francisco.

Sometimes the only way to accomplish what you think is important is by going the long way around.

A friend of mine is stuck in his own personal Indianapolis right now. He has an important goal, one that could possibly impact the lives of many people for the better. And he's determined to reach his own version of San Francisco to get it done. But the problem is that he's afraid to leave his Indianapolis until he has the entire journey mapped out, paid for, and planned every step of the way. You see, he doesn't want to end up in Toronto by mistake.

I understand my friend's fear. None of us wants to make a mistake. It seems like it would be so much safer to plan and prepare for every little contingency before setting out. That way you can avoid making any mistakes, right? Ah, if only that were true!

In reality, leaving Indianapolis before he is completely ready might not be such a bad idea for my friend at all. At least he'll be on the road and moving. He'll learn some things; he'll meet some people; he'll find out what it's like to begin pursuing his goal instead of just dreaming about it. He'll work the bugs out of his plan with some road testing in the real world. He might even discover that some of his goal can be achieved before he ever gets to San Francisco.

When the only way you can figure out how to get from Indianapolis to San Francisco is by way of Toronto, then I say, go that way. If you go the long way around, you are still going. If you insist on staying put until you've planned every detail, you're not going anywhere.

The distance from Indianapolis to San Francisco is 2,272 miles. The distance traveled if you have to go by way of Toronto would be 3,193 miles instead. But the distance traveled if you don't go at all is zero. That doesn't sound like a journey worth planning to me.

Labels: life purpose, social action

March 24-30, 2008 has been designated as Conversation Week by Conversation Café and Global MindShift. This annual event is an opportunity for people around the world to gather in small groups and have meaningful conversations.

I love having deep, purposeful conversations and enjoy being in environments where they can be had. I used to think I was shy because I felt so uncomfortable in many social situations, but then I realized that it was simply because I had never learned to enjoy small talk. What interests me is large talk.

The most important questions for Conversation Week dialogues this year were voted on by 1500 people in 39 countries. Here they are:

1. How can we best prepare our children for the future?
2. What does sustainability look like to you? How do we get there?
3. How do humans need to adapt to survive the changes predicted for this century?
4. How do we shift from "Me" to "We" on both the local and global levels?
5. How can you, as Gandhi said, be the change that you want to see in the world?
6. What kind of economic structures can best support a shift to sustainable living?
7. How should we re-invent the political process so that people feel that they have a voice?
8. What kind of leadership does the world need now?
9. How can we balance our personal needs with the most pressing needs of our community and the larger world?
10. What can we do to reduce or eliminate violence in the world?

It's a compelling list of topics. I was most taken by #5, "How can you, as Gandhi said, be the change that you want to see in the world?" Conversation Week organizers provided some additional conversational doorways into each topic, and for this one they asked: "What gaps do you notice between your 'walk' and 'talk' and what steps can you take towards 'being the change'?"

"What steps can you take?" What a crucial element this question is for a dialogue about change. Perhaps it is my training and experience as a coach (or perhaps this is what drew me to coaching in the first place), but I often feel driven to end conversations by asking, "And what is your next step?" To me, this is how conversations can be not only meaningful, but impactful.

Being in dialogue with others is an essential tool for raising our awareness. Sometimes it is the only way we ever find out what we really think. We make a declaration aloud in response to a question or challenge, and find ourselves thinking, "Yes, of course! That's what I believe to be true."

But as significant as that awareness may be, what often happens is that the moment of enlightenment passes, and we go on with our lives as before. We have a momentous realization, but then don't connect any action to it. And then we forget about it until the next time something or someone prods us into awareness again.

Perhaps one move we can all make toward "being the change" is to add this one simple question to our conversations about how the world should be different: "And what is your next step?" Perhaps if we keep asking this of others, they will also start asking it of us.

Labels: life purpose, social action

Regular readers of this blog may have noticed a slight but significant shift in its theme over this past year. When I first began writing on the topic How to Become a Hero four years ago, I described the theme of these reflections as "stepping into your own greatness to be of service to others." Later on, this became "finding your right livelihood on the path of service." But recently I made the decision to declare a new theme for these entries: "you are the champion the world is waiting for."

I first began thinking about the need for more heroes in our modern world after the 9/11 attacks. There were many people who became heroes on that day, called forth by the urgent need of others. But so many aspects of this catastrophe could have been prevented if there were more people called to heroic acts before it began. "Why do the heroes appear only after the tragedy," I wondered. "We should be taking steps just as bold to prevent the causes of terrorism, not just responding after it occurs."

Then the U.S. invaded Iraq, and the news was again filled with stories about heroes. But this time many of those profiled weren't just saving lives – they were also responsible for taking them. "What about the warriors for peace and justice?" I asked. "Where are their stories? Aren't they also heroes?" I launched this blog three months after the war began.

And then came Hurricane Katrina. I watched helplessly from San Francisco as people in New Orleans suffered and died. Days passed, and it seemed that news cameras could reach every area of the flooded city while rescuers and supplies could not.

There were many heroes on the ground, doing what they could under desperate conditions with limited resources. But with very few exceptions, those in charge failed to show leadership, courage, or even a sense of responsibility. Instead, rescue efforts moved forward at a snail's pace as government agencies and elected officials protected their turf, pointed fingers at each other, and delayed critical decisions. Meanwhile, supplies, volunteers, and vehicles sent from outside the area were refused admittance to the city.

It was during that awful week that I realized three compelling truths about becoming a hero:

1. We cannot wait for a hero to come and rescue us. Like the people of New Orleans, we may be waiting for a rescuer to help our community or cause, but it just may be that no one is coming. The most likely place to look for leadership is not out in the world, but within ourselves.

2. We cannot wait to figure out the best possible course of action. Seeking our ultimate life purpose is a worthwhile endeavor, but meanwhile, we should take action to make a difference where and how we can. We will develop our heroic qualities more by exercising them than by contemplating possibilities.

3. We cannot wait for a disaster to hear the call to heroism. If the only time we are compelled to act is when a disaster is at our door, many options are already closed to us. We can make much more of a difference in the world around us by working steadily to address chronic problems and prevent major disasters from occurring.

There is no one better qualified, smarter, braver, or more talented than you and I to redress the ills we see in the world. There are no grownups to tell us what we should do. There are no leaders we can count on to do what must be done. In the words of Freddie Mercury, we are the champions of the world. It's you that the world is waiting for.

Labels: heroism, life purpose, social action

We live in a country of rebels. It seems that flagrant disregard of signs is part of our national character. I witness this every time I work out at the gym. The line of treadmills, elliptical trainers, and exercise bikes looks out through floor-to-ceiling windows at a spectacular view of the northern half of San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the Bay. But directly below, my eyes are drawn to the constant activity on the top floor of the parking garage, an area where all the stalls are clearly marked "Compact Car Only."

During the course of a 40-minute workout, I'll see a dozen different SUV's, vans, and pickup trucks pull in and out of these too-small spaces. With not enough room between the lanes to back and turn, they often have to pull in and out several times, sometimes with the help of a passenger or passerby to guide them. Solo drivers frequently bump into the other parked cars, sometimes leading to altercations.

Why do these drivers insist on ignoring the signs and parking in spaces too small for their vehicles, even when there are plenty of full-size spaces on the floors below? And these aren't the only signs I see being ignored. Daily, I notice people pushing doors marked "pull," standing still on the left side of escalators posted "walk on left, stand on right," and getting out of their airplane seats while the "fasten seat belts" sign is lit. And I can't remember the last time I saw anyone actually observing a speed limit sign.

I guess it's not surprising, then, that we also ignore much more significant signs than these. For example, when you wake up on Monday morning and feel sick to your stomach at the thought of another week at a meaningless job. Or when you have a recurring dream of a promised land you can't seem to reach. Or when three times in one week, news about a cause you're attracted to, but doing nothing about, drops into your lap.

There are times when it may serve you to rebel against authority. Following the rules all the time is not necessarily the best path to making a difference in the world. But when the authority you are rebelling against is your own inner knowing that a path to something greater is waiting for you, maybe you should pay more attention to the signs.

Labels: life purpose

One of the biggest obstacles in the way of many potential heroes is figuring out exactly what to do. Sometimes we hear the call to make a difference in the world loud and clear... but we wish it could have been a bit more specific. "Get moving!" says the compelling voice in our head. "The world needs you. Do something!" But what's missing from this exhortation is any indication of what that something is.

So then what? Do we wait for another divine transmission with perhaps a few more instructions? Do we begin an intentional quest for our life's ultimate purpose, engaging in study, contemplation, dialogue, and analysis? Do we ignore the call because we don't know what the appropriate action truly is? Or do we begin somewhere, anywhere, not knowing if it's right, and perhaps making a major mistake?

My personal orientation toward action often leads me to "pick up a broom and start sweeping," as I described in an earlier post. I have found that I can learn what the right direction is by choosing a path to take and beginning to walk down it. If it's the wrong path, I find out soon enough. Then I can choose a different one. This type of trial-and-error decision-making usually works better for me than standing at the crossroad trying to completely think things through.

But this works for me because I have a high tolerance for risk and don't place much value on caution. When I took Martin Seligman's Signature Strengths Survey, one of my top five strengths was "bravery and valor." My strength in "caution, prudence, and discretion," on the other hand, was ranked way down at #22 out of a total of 24. So it's no surprise that I'm more willing to leap into unknown territory than I am to carefully consider all my options. In fact, I'm actually better at leaping than at considering.

For me, the best answer to "what to do when you don't know what to do" is clearly to take action in a new direction, because that capitalizes on my strengths. In addition to bravery and valor, I also score high on curiosity, creativity, and love of learning. But mine is not a one-size-fits-all solution. If your strength is in caution and prudence, I would guess that a careful analysis might be a valuable next step. Or if your strength was in spirituality and faith, you might spend time in prayer or meditation. Or if it was in teamwork and loyalty, you might ask for guidance from others close to you.

If there is a single recipe that everyone could follow to determine what to do when you don't know what to do, perhaps it is this: 1) Know what your strengths are. 2) Find a way to use them that will help you move forward. 3) Repeat as necessary.

Labels: heroism, life purpose

The past two months have seen the passing of two significant people in my life. First, my coaching mentor Laura Whitworth died of lung cancer. Then my father passed away at the age of 91. The blessing and the curse of being a writer is that people expect you to come up with the right words for important occasions. I was asked to write obituaries for both Laura and my dad, and to speak at both memorial services.

It's a challenging task to sum up a person's life in a three-paragraph obituary or five-minute speech. What should you include? What do you leave out? What would the person you are honoring have wanted you to say?

Both Laura and my father had an impressive list of achievements to acknowledge. Laura co-founded three professional organizations and six businesses -- one of which became the largest coach training company in the world -- and co-authored a bestselling book. My father held five patents in electronics and automation, and published over 50 professional papers.

Even so, neither Laura nor my father felt as if they were done yet. Laura had far-reaching plans for her newest project, The Bigger Game. My dad was working on a book about the history of film and broadcast technology.

Immersed on preparing these life summaries, I couldn't help but wonder, what will be in my obituary? Because I notice that in both the obituaries I wrote, completed projects made the cut, but work in progress did not. If I were to die today, my obit would mention the two full-length books I've published. But all the blood, sweat, and tears I've put into the other books I haven't finished yet wouldn't even receive a mention.

In order to become a part of your personal legacy, the work in question must actually be done. Dreams, ideas, goals, and plans, no matter how visionary and grand, don't count in the end. When you are gone, what stays behind to make an impact on those who outlive you is what you have completed, not what you hoped to accomplish some day.

And so I ask, how is your obituary coming along? Which of your treasured dreams and plans have you already brought to life, and which are still waiting for you to act on them?

Labels: life purpose

Recently, I've been tempted by a number of interesting opportunities that I've had to turn down. They were all possibilities that had merit, and some of them were options that I myself had initiated by setting wheels in motion at an earlier time. But it often seems to me that there are too many desserts on the buffet table of life. One or even two can be delicious and satisfying. Putting four or five on my plate at once, however, does not produce a beneficial result.

It's always a challenge when I'm faced with several different new opportunities, all of which are appealing. I want to say yes to them all and figure out later how I will fit them in, even though I know from long experience that this is a recipe for disaster. The trickiest part is when they arrive not in a bunch, so I can choose between them, but one by one, so I don't know what's coming next.

On Monday, I'm asked to deliver a keynote in Orlando. On Tuesday, I receive a request to write an article for a trade journal. Wednesday, I'm invited to serve on an industry committee. Thursday, I'm offered several days of training in Europe. And Friday, an exciting new client urgently wants to work with me. If I were comparing all five of those choices side by side, knowing that I can't pursue them all, the one I might pick first is the exciting client from Friday who needs to get started right away. But if I had already said yes to two or three of the earlier invitations, I might no longer have the time and energy to even return that client's call.

This is where my gatekeeper comes in. Executives, celebrities, and other important folks have people on staff to screen the requests they receive and decide which ones are worth responding to. They give their staff criteria to use in screening calls and mail in order to decide who gets through the gate. Now maybe, like me, you don't have a full-time staff, but you are still an important person. Why not design criteria like these that you can use to screen your own opportunies?

I hit upon this strategy some time ago in a moment of complete overwhelm, and (when I remember to use it) my gatekeeper has served me well ever since. When faced with a tough choice about whether or not to engage in an attractive project, I let my gatekeeper decide. What is this gatekeeper? It's a list of criteria I designed in a visioning session with myself, and I use it to evaluate the project in question to see how well it fits.

To give you an idea of how this works, here are the main criteria on my gatekeeper's list:
o Will this project make the world a better place?
o Does this project honor my personal values?
o If I am being compensated, will I earn at least $X per hour for the entire project, including time required to write a proposal, prepare for the work, and travel there and back?
o If I am not being compensated, is the population being served in alignment with my mission?
o If I am speaking or writing for promotional purposes, is the topic and audience one that serves my current strategic plan?
o If travel is involved, is there at least a one week buffer zone before and after any other travel dates or major deadlines?
o Are there currently ten or fewer projects I am committed to that will require my attention during the same week as this one?

Your gatekeeper's list may be quite different from mine, but if you haven't considered using a system like this before, you may find it both valuable and enlightening. The first time I tried out my fairly simple screening criteria, I was shocked to discover how many projects I was already working on didn't measure up!

A critical moment on the hero's journey is when he or she faces several doors and must choose which one to open. It could come in handy to have a gatekeeper standing by to advise you which door leads to the treasure and which one conceals the dragon.

Labels: life purpose

Listening to Barack Obama's podcast recently, I heard a talk and Q and A session he gave for Partnership for Public Service interns last July, where he referred to a "poverty of ambition."

It's not the first time Obama has used this compelling phrase. Here's a quote from his commencement address to Knox College in 2005: "Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. You need to take up the challenges that we face as a nation and make them your own. Not because you have a debt to those who helped you get here, although you do have that debt. Not because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate than you, although I do think you do have that obligation. It's primarily because you have an obligation to yourself. Because individual salvation has always depended on collective salvation. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential."

It seems to me that a poverty of ambition in our modern world afflicts much more than young people making career decisions. We each must choose -- not just once, but many times throughout our lives -- whether to act purely on our own behalf, or to raise our ambition to something higher than our immediate wants and needs. Too often, we choose simply what serves us in the moment. I'm not talking about just you and me making decisions that affect our own lives and those of our families. Our political leaders, business leaders, and community leaders, more often than not, are limiting their ambition to choices that are poor in every sense of the word. And we're letting them get away with it.

When we raise our ambition to seek out solutions that benefit everyone instead of settling for those that help only a few, we call forth the amazing richness of our human potential. By expecting more -- of ourselves, our leaders, and our communities -- we raise the bar for what is acceptable. A raised bar causes us to stretch our capacity, to explore new ways of doing things, to sometimes simply leap, and by leaping, set a new record for what is possible. In this rich territory of stretching and exploring and leaping, we not only discover what we were already capable of, we make ourselves more capable than we ever could have been without the challenge.

Realizing our true potential as people, as leaders, as a nation, and as a global community requires a higher ambition. It is by growing ourselves that we can truly grow rich.

Labels: heroism, life purpose, social action

It's hard to set out on your hero's journey when you aren't sure where you are going. If I had to name the one thing that prevents more bright, talented people from making a difference in the world than any other, I'd say it was not knowing what the difference is they truly want to make.

It seems that most of us would-be heroes are listening very hard for The Call -- the inspired message that will tell us once and for all what we are supposed to do with our lives -- but we aren't quite sure how to recognize the real thing. One morning you feel unusually determined to do something about global warming and you wonder, "Is this it? Have I heard The Call now?"

But when you find yourself the next day strongly pulled toward a project to help teenage runaways, you think, "I guess that global warming idea wasn't the real thing. Maybe this is it." And your plans to take action about global warming go out the window. But you're still not sure about helping those teenage runaways. After all, you were wrong before about hearing The Call. Maybe you had better wait and see how you feel tomorrow.

As someone who has heard and acted on more than one inspired message in the course of a lifetime, here's my experience with the "how to be sure" question. You can only ever know what is right for you today... or maybe this hour, or this minute.

There is a moment on each journey when we take the step that sets things in motion which prevent our easy retreat. And I think that often it is the mood we are in at the very moment we take that step that determines the journey we go on.

There is probably no single mission in life that will hold your attention forever. There may not be just one mission that will satisfy you completely for even a short time. But one thing is sure -- if you wait until you know without a doubt what that mission is, you will also be waiting to do what good you can in the world in the meantime.

I say if there is a mess in front of you and your hand lights upon a broom, pick it up and start sweeping. Perhaps ultimately a mop might do a better job, or even a shovel. But the longer you wait to decide what tool to use, the longer the mess will be there.

I don't mean to suggest you should just throw a dart at a random list of ways to help the world. But you have probably already done a lot of studying and thinking and listening about what your mission in life should be. Most people I talk to are seriously considering no more than a handful of different ideas at any one time.

What I am suggesting, though, is that you should allow yourself to be moved in the direction of action regarding one of these ways to be of service the next time some useful action presents itself to you.

There will be a moment when that action will turn into a commitment and then there will be another point when you can decide if the direction you are going feels right. Even after you commit, most commitments are negotiable. Once you have set upon a course, you can usually still change it, although it becomes harder to do the further along you go.

But since it's likely that no decision you make will be permanent anyway, why not simply choose to make one based on what is calling to you most in that moment? Then you will act, and in acting, you will learn more. After deciding, you will feel differently than before you decided, and that too, you will learn from. When you decide and act, you will tell people about your choice, and from their reactions (and from your own when you tell them), you will learn still more.

And while you are learning these things, you will simultaneously be contributing your unique talents in the direction of cleaning up a mess that is much in need of cleaning.

In many ways, I think there is little effort in acting to clean up the world's messes that is truly wasted. If you decide to work helping runaways for a time and then decide it is not for you, the runaways and you will still benefit. In fact, if you were to work or volunteer on a different path of service every month for the rest of your life, you and the world would still benefit.

In the aftermath of the South Asian tsunami, I read a news report that created a subtle but profound shift in my thinking on this issue of waiting to be sure about the best way to be of service.

A village leader in the Aceh province of Indonesia was interviewed by a journalist two weeks after the tsunami. "How much foreign aid is reaching your village?" the journalist asked.

"We can't understand it," the elder replied. "All we see are journalists and aid agency workers making studies. People come with cameras and clipboards and ask many questions. Then they leave and never come back. We need food, we need water. People are dying. Please stop sending people with questions about what we need and send us some help."

Labels: life purpose, social action, volunteering

Did you make any resolutions this New Year? According to an A.C. Nielsen survey, over half of all the people in the world did in 2007. The most popular resolutions worldwide were to get more exercise and have a better work/life balance. Other top choices were to go on a diet, quit smoking, avoid bad relationships, and change jobs.

There's nothing wrong with resolutions like these. If we all paid more attention to our physical and emotional health as well as our job satisfaction, the world would be a happier place. But I'd like to see another sort of resolution make the top ten. What if we were all to resolve to do just one thing this year to make the world a better place?

Imagine the positive impact on a global scale if each of us took on just one significant task to better the lives of others or the state of our planet. We all have the capacity to be heroes if we allow ourselves to claim our own greatness. Could this be the year that you take a giant step forward on that path?

Here's my invitation -- choose one heroic act that you are willing to perform in 2007. Look outside yourself and your circle of family and friends to the wider world that is so in need of your skills and talents. What's just one thing that you could do to be of greater service?

I've pondered this question for myself, and decided that my heroic act this year will be to launch or join a project in support of educating girls in the developing world. There are several organizations already doing great work in this area, so my commitment is to forge an alliance with one of them and contribute enough of my time and energy to send at least 30 girls -- a classroom full -- to school this year in a developing country.

That's my heroic act for 2007 – what will be yours?

Labels: heroism, life purpose, social action

In the Skoll Foundation’s Social Edge newsletter this week, I discovered the book Be Bold by Cheryl L. Dorsey and Lara Galinsky. “The urge to live a life of meaning,” the authors say, “is one of our most elemental desires as human beings. We want to make a difference in the world; we need to leave our footprint in the sands of time to mark our existence. By honoring the beliefs and values we hold dear, we allow ourselves to live lives that matter.”

In less than 100 pages, Dorsey and Galinsky share powerful concepts like having the “gall to think big” and choosing to be “bold as a career choice.” They remind us: “Never forget that doing nothing is as much a choice as doing something. Choosing to get engaged in a cause that you deeply care about or launching a career in the nonprofit sector are not only courageous acts of service, but also the most powerful weapon against the horrors and injustices of the world that require indifference, inaction, and silence to thrive.”

You can download at no charge the preface and introduction to the book, as well as a Be Bold personal journal, from the Be Bold website if you join their free virtual community of readers and social change advocates. Be Bold carries a valuable and timely message to would-be heroes everywhere.

Labels: life purpose, social action, volunteering

How often do you lose your way? It's easy enough to get lost on the highway or in the forest, but what about your path through life? You would think that regarding a matter so important -- our life's mission or purpose -- we would stay constantly focused. But it seems that much of the time, we don't.

I know I find myself frequently off track with what I consider my life's work. Sometimes the detours are small, and I can easily find my way back. Other times, I discover that I have somehow wandered far from the path, and getting myself headed in the right direction again can be a struggle.

Yesterday, I was looking at a lengthy list of to-do's that all needed to be accomplished before the end of the month. The list was far too long to tackle, so I cut it down to what needed to happen in the next couple of days. When I discovered it was still too long to possibly complete in the time available, an alarm bell rang. I've been in this place before, and luckily, I recognized it. Too long a to-do list is a signpost informing me that I'm off track in life. Even though I was sure I knew my way this time, somehow I'd gotten lost again.

Your personal signpost for this place may be different, but if you look carefully, you'll identify it. Perhaps it is sleeplessness or bad dreams that let you know you've taken a wrong turn. Or you find yourself avoiding things you "should" be doing by watching TV or surfing the web. Or a loved one tells you that you seem unusually irritable or sad.

Once you know that you are lost, how do you find your way back? I recently asked some readers of this blog for their ideas about how to return to a purposeful path once you have wandered away. Here are some of their suggestions:

o Make a plan for what you're trying to do. Then you can refer to it and see where you need to go next.
o Get back in touch with your initial vision or passion -- read what you wrote about it, or go back to the spot where you last experienced it.
o Do just one thing that will point you in the direction of your mission.
o Connect with others who you believe have a similar vision.
o Seek out a role model or mentor to inspire you -- someone you know or someone you've heard of.
o Start a group where you are the leader and your followers will keep you on track.

For me, struggling with my mile-long to-do list, I started by asking how many of the items listed there were "on purpose." It turns out that very few of them were. I don't mean that they got on my list by accident or someone else's request -- I had chosen them all. But only a small percentage of what I had chosen was relevant to my true mission in life. The rest were a collection of shoulds, nice-to-have's, and the result of old habits I keep trying to outgrow.

After deleting a big chunk of the off-purpose tasks and moving some of the on-purpose items to the top, I felt much more on track. At least for the moment -- I'll probably have to do the same thing again a month from now.

Labels: life purpose

Watching a video course on Buddhism from The Teaching Company the other day, I learned something fascinating about the word "karma." I had always thought this term represented a sort of cosmic bank account where our good deeds counted as credits and our bad ones as debits. But it turns out what the word actually means is "action" or "the result of action."

The Wikipedia says "Karma is not about retribution, vengeance, punishment or reward. Karma simply deals with what is. The effects of all deeds actively create past, present and future experiences, thus making one responsible for one's own life, and the pain and joy brought to others." So, karma is simply what you do... or what you don't do.

I've been thinking and talking a lot about taking positive action over the past year. Ever since Hurricane Katrina struck last August, it has seemed more and more important to me that those who want to help others and make the world a better place need to go beyond conversation and good intentions, and do something about it. I've been taking action of my own in a few different ways -- working on several different Katrina relief projects, serving on the board of a nonprofit, starting work in earnest on the How to Become a Hero book, and hosting a discussion group for readers of this blog for the first eight months of this year. But I feel called to do more, and I want what I do to encourage others to do more, too.

To that end, I'm organizing a one-day retreat on Oct. 21st, called How to Become a Hero: Your Call to Action. I'm inviting a small group of like-minded people to gather in Marin County to explore their calling to serve others, deepen their commitment to this mission, and discover the course of action that will bring it to life. If you are in the Bay Area and this agenda speaks to you, please join us. I've kept the cost very low so it won't be a barrier to attending.

I've also decided that instead of spreading my volunteer efforts and donations among a variety of causes, I'm going to focus on just one cause. After much consideration, I believe I have found one that honors my values, satisfies my requirements, and that I feel a deep connection to. By choosing a solid anchor for my charitable work, I feel I can make more of an impact. I'll be sharing more about this cause in future posts.

So those are the actions I have chosen, or should I say, this is the karma I am choosing to create. What karma are you creating today?

Labels: life purpose, social action

Has anyone seen the month of May? I seem to have misplaced it. When I sat down this morning to post to this blog, I discovered that my last post was on April 30. I could have sworn I wrote those words no more than two weeks ago. Perhaps gremlins changed the date on my blog page.

But no, further detective work in my office indicates that May really was somehow stolen from my working life. I located a stack of unopened mail with May postmarks in the vicinity of my desk, which turned out to hold both an undeposited check and an unpaid bill. Yikes!

If I wasn't even opening the mail last month, it's pretty likely I wasn't making any progress on my heroic journey either -- you know, the "Big A" agenda I have for making the world a better place. Not a good thing.

I could just write the month off. After all, I have a good excuse -- I must have been busy. But how good an excuse is that really? Here's some food for thought from success author Zig Ziglar: "...are we really busier than we've ever been? In reality, based on what 10,000 people recorded in their hour-by-hour time diaries, Americans, on the average, have 40 hours a week of discretionary time which they can invest as they please. This is more than they had 30 years ago and five hours more than they had in 1975."

I could argue that as a business owner, I have less discretionary time than the average bear. But that's nonsense. In reality, I have much more. I don't have a boss telling me what to do with my work time -- I'm telling myself what to do. If I'm not spending enough time on the things that matter most to me, there's really no one else I can blame.

I ran across a quote from an old interview with Michael Landon, and I've decided to make it my theme for the month of June: "Someone should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it, I say! Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows."

Labels: life purpose

Years ago, someone gave me a Richard Stine greeting card showing a dog climbing a flight of stairs. His nose is pressed against the back of the staircase, his tongue hangs out, and the caption reads "face to face with the second step."

At the time I received this card, I was at a loss for what I was going to do next to earn a living. I had quit my job and rented an office in order to give myself a place to figure that out. I was working part-time as a corporate consultant, but I knew that wasn't the answer. The card expressed my state of mind exactly. I had the time; I had the space; I had a little money to spare; what was next?

I posted the card over my desk and stared at it daily, wondering what my next step was going to be. I wanted to do something important, something that would help people, something that would use my talents and skills more fully. I was all ready to do IT, but I just didn't know what IT was.

In my eight steps to becoming a hero, this wondering, waiting time is the heart of Step 2, Listening for the Call. For someone like myself with five fire signs in my astrological chart and a Myers-Briggs type ending in "J," not knowing what to do next was like being lost in the dark with no lantern, no map, and no watch.... and late for dinner. I felt an incredible urgency to be going somewhere and doing something. Every moment I didn't know my destination felt wasted and irrecoverable. But I was determined not to do what I had always done before, which was to simply take the next career option that appeared. This time, I was going to wait for inspiration. I was waiting to be called.

The hero's inspired call to action can take many different forms. It can be a nagging intuition, a sudden realization, a divine transmission, or a subtle wondering. It can strike out of the blue without warning, or come as the result of a deliberate process of mining one's thoughts, feelings, and muses for guidance. Sometimes you don't even know when it has arrived. You go to sleep one night without it, and wake up the next morning finding it there, as if it had always been.

For me at that time and place, the call that finally came was of the sudden realization variety. One moment I was lying in bed on a Sunday morning reading a magazine, and the next moment I knew what I was going to do. Within a week, I was headed down the path that ultimately resulted in my becoming a business coach. The magazine article triggered the inspiration, but what actually created it, I believe, was all those weeks and months of actively listening for it.

When you find yourself in a waiting, wondering place like this, how do you go about listening? Some people choose meditation; others journal; some pray; others draw or paint. You can learn more about yourself through assessment, participate in a personal growth weekend, work with a spiritual advisor, or explore your options with a coach. But the key is allowing open channels for the inspiration to enter. When you are listening for a particular sound, you're much more likely to hear it.

P.S. We'll be discussing the second step in my How to Become a Hero Discussion Forum on Feb 14 if you would like to join us.

Labels: heroism, life purpose

Historian Howard Zinn gave me a compelling take recently on the role of optimism in keeping a heroic outlook despite overwhelming odds. Zinn is the author of A People's History of the United States, which turns traditional history texts upside down by presenting the viewpoints of African Americans, women, Native Americans, war resisters, and poor laborers about historical events.

In his memoir, You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train, Zinn writes: "To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic... If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places -- and there are so many -- where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction."

Zinn reminds us that we cannot predict the future. There is no reason to expect that present conditions will continue. In fact: "...the struggle for justice should never be abandoned because of the apparent overwhelming power of those who have the guns and the money and who seem invincible in their determination to hold on to it. That apparent power has, again and again, proved vulnerable to human qualities less measurable than bombs and dollars: moral fervor, determination, unity, organization, sacrifice, wit, ingenuity, courage, patience -- whether by blacks in Alabama and South Africa, peasants in El Salvador, Nicaragua and Vietnam, or workers and intellectuals in Poland, Hungary and the Soviet Union." For more on this topic, read Zinn’s essay, The Optimism of Uncertainty.

It may seem that one person cannot make a difference, but this is where great ideas and unstoppable movements begin. By raising your voice, you give others the courage to raise theirs. By taking one small step, you make others believe it is possible to take steps of their own. If there is something about the world you wish to change -- no matter how permanent and immovable it may seem -- with enough people pulling in the same direction, change can occur.

Labels: life purpose, social action

In the current issue of Inquiring Mind, I ran across this powerful statement in an article by Susan Burggraf, titled "Ordinary Buddhas: That Means You, Babe." Writing about finding one's path, Susan says, "Here's the big trick: don't work with what you don't have, don't develop new skills. There are so many doors and so many openings, so there's one that's sized right for who you are right now."

This is one of the keys to setting out on a heroic path. True heroes take action; that's how they become heroes. They don't just think and talk about what needs to be done some day; they start doing something about it now. Instead of taking one more class, reading one more book, earning one more degree, or working one more year at the job that eats away at their soul, they find a place to begin today.

Bilbo Baggins left home without even his handkerchief. Why do you think you need to learn more, grow more, or acquire more before starting out on the path you were meant for? You will never be completely ready. Start from wherever you are.

Labels: buddhism, heroism, life purpose

I live across the street from the neighborhood recycling center, and in some ways it's like living on the banks of the Ganges River. Not that it is a particularly holy place, but it is where everyone in my neighborhood deposits their unwanted items. It's a community ritual when you move out of the neighborhood to make your last stop the recycling center, casting on its waters everything you couldn't pack, sell, or give away. A trip to the center often includes serendipitous finds of some amazing items. For example, a frosted glass vase of the exact color and shape I needed for a table display at my book launch party, or an advance reading copy of Dan Millman's The Journeys of Socrates the month before it was published.

This week's find was a quote from the Catholic philosopher and theologian St. Thomas Aquinas, printed in Gothic type on the eggshell blue letterhead of a painting company, and placed behind glass in a wooden frame. Here's the quote: "Between the two extremes of timidity and boldness, it is more necessary to overcome the first than the second, for it is more difficult to repress timidity than to moderate boldness, because the dangers that result from the latter are sufficient to temper its excess, whereas the thought of serious evils which result from timidity ends in making us more timid still."

It seems to me that Aquinas has given us the practical explanation why "the only thing to fear is fear itself," to invoke Franklin D. Roosevelt. Once you enter into the cycle of listening to your fear, it can be difficult to break out. Your fears suggest dire consequences that may ensue when you take a risk, make a change, or try something new. If you listen to that dialogue, it can make you more fearful than ever to choose a new direction. And if you don't choose a new direction, you may find yourself by default stuck in the fear. Or as Roosevelt called it, the "nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."

We would-be heroes are often given the advice to "face our fears," but what does this really mean? If as Aquinas and Roosevelt suggest, paying attention to your fear can make you more fearful, what then? To me, the answer has always been not to ignore my fear, but rather to refuse to believe in its message. As when hearing a point of view I do not agree with, I try to listen politely, hear what it has to say, and then express my opposing opinion. Often I will try to reassure my fear, as if it were a frightened child. "Yes, I know you're scared," I might say, "but think of how much fun you'll miss out on if you don't try this."

A metaphor for working with fear that has helped me is to think of what I am about to do as a roller coaster ride. It's scary and fun at the same time. And part of the fun is that you are scared. What fun would a roller coaster be if it didn't frighten you with steep dips and rapid turns? So at the scariest moment of trying something new, perhaps the best approach is to put a grin on your face, hold on tight, and call out, "Wheeeeeee!"

Labels: life purpose

On a visit to Yosemite National Park last weekend, I went on a ranger walk with USPS Ranger Shelton Johnson. The topic was "Yosemite through the Eyes of a Buffalo Soldier," and for a 90-minute walk through the valley, Ranger Johnson, in period costume, played the part of Sgt. Elizy Bowman of the 9th Cavalry, known as the Buffalo Soldiers. These African American troops who fought for the U.S. in the Philippines and Mexico also served as park rangers in Yosemite in 1899, 1903, and 1904.

Ranger Johnson gave a thoughtful portrayal of his character's personal history. Sgt. Bowman grew up as a sharecropper's son in South Carolina, and joined the Army as a way of improving his situation. Johnson described what it must have been like for these "colored soldiers" to enforce the regulations protecting the park's resources against the mostly white settlers in the area, at a time when the very idea of a park to preserve nature was new and untested. And he shared with us a beautiful metaphor.

Growing throughout Yosemite Valley are a wide variety of trees, including ponderosa pines and black oaks. Ranger Johnson pointed them out to us, and showed how the pine bends under the snow, so that when the snow melts, the pine stands up straight once again. The oak, however, doesn't bend; it tries to hold its upright position as the snow piles higher. Eventually, the oak's branches break under the weight. When the snow melts, the oak is no longer the same proud tree. "Be supple like a pine tree," Ranger Johnson told us, "Don't be rigid and unbending like the oak." That's how to survive.

This is sage advice, I think, for any of us who wish to carry our causes forward in the world. Perhaps we are the ones in the right; maybe we do know the real truth; it could be that everyone around us is wrong or just mistaken. But if we try to stand our ground against an overwhelming force, it may break us. Sometimes we need to bend a bit to get through the winter of criticism or opposition, so that we will still be here in the spring to begin our task anew.

Labels: heroism, life purpose

A couple of weeks ago, on an ordinary afternoon, my day took an unexpected turn for the worse. Walking home from the post office, I was crossing a narrow residential street near my house. I was in the crosswalk when a small truck ran the stop sign and narrowly missed hitting me. Inches away from the driver with the truck still rolling by me, I yelled at her -- not an obscenity, but something along the lines of, "Hey!" What happened next was even more unexpected.

The driver stepped on the brake and leapt out, leaving her vehicle in the middle of the intersection. "Are you yelling at me?" she barked, and attacked me. She was a big woman, and I was taken completely off guard. She hit me full force with both hands and sent me flying through the air. I landed on the sidewalk, smacking my head against a brick wall.

When she saw my head bleeding, her face changed. "Oh my God," she said, "Did I do that?" She bent down. "Are you OK?... You're not OK, are you... Dammit, I have to take you to the hospital." And she helped me get up.

I wouldn't let her take me to the hospital -- I didn't want to know her that long. But another strange aspect of this already surreal incident was that no one else was around. In the middle of the afternoon in a busy neighborhood shopping district, no other cars or pedestrians came by the whole time. I had left the house with no wallet, no money, and no cell phone. I could tell I needed stitches in my head, but I wasn't critically injured. I couldn't picture walking into the vegetable market covered in blood and asking them to call me an ambulance. So instead I said, "No, but you can take me home."

It of course occurred to me later that getting into her car was perhaps not the smartest thing to do under the circumstances. But in that moment, she seemed to be once again rational, and genuinely concerned for my welfare. She was also mortified by what she had done. Driving the six blocks to my house, she poured out her heart to me. She was having the worst day of her life, she said. Something awful had just happened, and she was both in a rage and in a hurry, headed out of town. She never saw me crossing the street or the stop sign, and when she saw me outside her window yelling at her, she didn't know what had happened. She just snapped, and took out all her pent-up anger on the object in front of her -- me.

I had her let me out at the corner near my home, so she wouldn't know my address. "How will I know you're OK?" she asked. "Can I send you some flowers?" I promised to go straight to the emergency room, and declined the flowers. The last thing she said to me was, "Maybe there is a reason we met."

I'd like to think that there was a reason. Pondering it in the hospital waiting room, I realized that perhaps there was a positive net gain to the universe as a result of what had happened. An hour before, a woman was driving a powerful vehicle too fast through a residential neighborhood in a blind rage. She could have easily killed a pedestrian less alert than me, maybe one of the many schoolchildren who walk down that street at that time of day. Or gotten on the freeway in that state and caused an accident that seriously injured many people.

Instead, I had one bad cut and a few scrapes and bruises. And she was no longer angry, but ashamed of her behavior, driving carefully, and in a state of intense self-examination. I don't think she hurt anyone else that day. And just maybe, this was the catalyst for a lasting change -- perhaps she'll get help with her emotional problems, decide to quit drinking, end the dysfunctional relationship she's in, or otherwise choose a healthier, happier path than the one she is on.

Or maybe none of those things is true, and it was just a senseless incident. But I notice that believing that makes me feel like a helpless victim, while thinking that perhaps it was of some use makes me feel as if I made a contribution. Guess which belief I am choosing?

Labels: life purpose

Thanks to a tip from my friend and colleague Maggie Oman Shannon, I recently read the article Hero Worship by Marie Russell. Marie points out that there are two dictionary definitions for the word hero: 1) a person of great courage and nobility, or one admired for his exploits, and 2) the central character in a novel or play. By this second definition, Marie says, "...we are all heroes, or central figures in our own play" and "... if we are the hero, then we can take charge of the situation and plunge ahead and make changes."

What a sense of possibility this idea creates! Instead of living our lives as if they were dictated by someone else's master script, we can take matters into our own hands and change the plot. In my own experience, I have discovered that this often requires questioning all assumptions, especially those that begin with someone else saying, "You can't do that."

At a number of critical points in my life, I have been told that what I wanted to do was impossible. For example, "You can't get a good job without a college degree." This piece of supposedly common wisdom could have defeated me as it has a number of other people I know. The people who say this often have good intentions -- they are trying to convince you to get or complete your degree. I will admit that having one does make finding a well-paying professional job considerably easier. But not having one doesn't make that impossible... unless of course you believe that it is.

Once you have decided that a task or goal is impossible, it inevitably is so. But if you continue to believe in the possibility of it, there is always something else you can try. As Henry Ford said, "Whether you think you can or you think you can't, you're usually right."

Depending on your point of view, you might label the hero's persistence in trying to do the impossible as plucky and creative, or stubborn and misguided. And perhaps I am just ornery, but when someone tells me I can't do something, my natural reaction is to start figuring out how I can. My response to the "no degree no job" proclamation was to ignore the assumption, and instead ask, "How do people without college degrees get good jobs?"

For me, the answer was acquiring a technical skill. I learned to program computers, got a well-paying job, and as a result was able to eventually get a bachelor's degree because I was earning enough to support myself. But I couldn't have done it without believing in the possibility. In Marie's words, "...we must first accept the possibility that we too are a super hero... before being able to make it come true."

If you are already the hero in your own life, you have the power to change it. As Marie says, "If you are waiting for someone else to make a difference in your life (to rescue you, to save you, to make your life better, to make you whole), then you are wasting your time. No one but you can make your dreams come true."

Labels: heroism, life purpose

Six of my closest friends are getting married this summer -- to each other that is. Between the 4th of July and Labor Day, three couples who are part of my intimate circle of friends are all tying the knot. That means three weddings, three bridal showers, and three bachelor parties.

My sweetheart Dave is the best man in one wedding, he and I are groomsman and bridesmaid in a second, and I'm helping to organize the bridal showers for two of them. Add in fittings for our formal wear, two rehearsal dinners, and buying new shoes. Don't forget buying nine presents for the weddings, showers, and parties, plus cards, paper, and ribbon, and then there are party games and snacks. I took out half the clothes in my closet to see if I could actually assemble the seven party outfits I'll need without repeating myself (there will be photographs, of course), since I couldn't bear the thought of going shopping again. Oh, and I forgot to mention, two of the weddings are being held out of town, one of them in Ireland!

In the middle of all this hoopla, I'm revising the 250-page manuscript for Get Hired NOW!, due to the publisher before wedding number two. And serving my clients, teaching my students, arranging my fall calendar of workshops, speaking engagements, and interviews... and one last little project, trying to buy a house.

At one point, overwhelmed by piles of wrapping paper, manuscript pages, plane reservations, and real estate listings, I exclaimed, "Where did my life go?" forgetting for the moment that this is my life.

I could look at the overwhelm of this summer as an enormous burden. It's certainly tempting to complain about the constant whirlwind of activity and endless to-do lists. There's no question that my resources are being stretched to the limit. That's why it's so helpful to pause for a moment and count my blessings.

Isn't it amazing that I have so many friends that six of them are getting married at once? That these people love me enough to invite me to be a part of their special celebrations? That I will soon be seeing my third book in print? That I have so many clients and students and speaking engagements, and enough money to buy a house? What a great life!

In my steps for becoming a hero, the final step is "Staying the Course." At the moment, the key to this for me is gratitude. Baha'u'llah, who founded the Baha'i Faith, said, "A thankful person is thankful under all circumstances. A complaining soul complains even if he lives in paradise." It seems these days that I am living in paradise. But somehow I had pictured more time to play the harp.

Labels: life purpose

You're standing there at the edge of the water, looking at the swell of the waves. All you can see clearly is the water's surface; there are some vague shapes underneath you can detect, but nothing is clear enough to make out. You put on your snorkel and mask, and dive under.

The instant you get your head underwater, you see a different universe. What appeared as a blur of movement from up above resolves into hundreds of multicolored fish, swimming and diving, feeding and playing. There's an entire world here that you would never know existed without diving into it head first.

It's like that when you set out on a new path for your life. Looking from the outside at a new career field, a new line of business, or a new avenue of learning, it seems vague and mysterious. But when you gather your courage and plunge in, suddenly it all starts to make sense. The scary part is taking the first step.

I've taken many first steps in my life -- moving to cities where I knew no one, changing careers seven or eight times (depending on how you count), starting several businesses, and becoming a personal coach when no one even knew what that was.

Each time, I notice the same transformative sequence. I think about making a change and feel scared. I start to gather information about the new direction I am considering, and notice the fear begin to lessen. Then I take a deep breath and take one small step toward my goal. But when I'm stepping off the edge of the pier into unknown waters, that first one can be a doozy!

All of a sudden, I'm on a different plane. Opportunities open up, contacts materialize, and connections occur. I'm no longer outside looking in. Instead of feeling like a fish out of water, I am a sea creature myself, swimming in an ocean of possibilities.

The trick is to dive in while I am still afraid. If I waited for the fear to be gone first, I would still be standing on the shore.

Labels: life purpose

Every spring in my household comes a period we have come to call Groundhog Day. I've always loved the Bill Murray movie of the same name, a sweet fable about an egocentric, mean-spirited newscaster doomed to live the same day over and over until he learns to care about others and enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

My sweetheart Dave moonlights as a tax preparer, and every year at the beginning of February, he begins his Groundhog Day schedule. He works a full day at his day job, evenings and Saturdays at a CPA's office, and sees his own clients late at night and on Sundays. Somehow, I always seem to have a major deadline during the same period. (This year it was completing the manuscript for Get Hired NOW!, which I thankfully completed last week.) With Dave not around to keep me company, I often work 12-hour days.

Somewhere around mid-March, we start saying to each other in the morning, "Is it Groundhog Day again?" As we feed the cats and brush our teeth and stumble off to work, it feels like we've already done this day a thousand times before.

For us, this phase only lasts the twelve weeks until April 15. Then we take our annual trip to Hawaii, and return home to a more normal existence that includes time for learning, play, contemplation, and rest. But I remember the days before I learned how to live a balanced life, when Groundhog Day was 365 days per year.

I see many of my clients now trapped in the same cycle of endless work and responsibility. Their day begins with making breakfast and lunch for the whole family, getting everyone dressed and off to where they need to be. Then they're off to work. If they commute, they're often checking voice mail and making calls on the way.

After a full day at the job, it's time to ferry the kids to or from their next activity. Eventually, everyone gets fed, then there is more work to do for the boss or their business, housecleaning or repairs to be done, volunteer work, or yet another activity for the kids. By the time they lie down at night, there's often six hours or less before it's time to get up and do it all again. Weekends get filled up with more of the same. It seems there's always something important scheduled and pressing errands to run. And there's never enough time to sleep.

What living like this does to you is not only exhaust your body, it hardens your heart. Even if you began with the best intentions -- to do a good job for your family, your employer, your clients, and your community -- when there is no time to breathe, you start to emotionally shut down. In addition to chronic illnesses caused by the physical strain, you develop a short temper, selfish attitude, and a world view that ends at the tip of your nose.

Selfish, you say? When you spend so much time doing things for others? But the question to ask yourself is, are they the right things?

Are you a real companion to your children or their grumpy chauffeur? Are you a true partner to your spouse or an exhausted cook? Are you really doing your best for your boss or your clients, or are you stretched so thin that your work is often barely adequate? How many of the activities in which you are engaged are really the best use of you? And how can you know if you never have the energy to look beyond the next five minutes?

If you're not happy with the answers these questions provoke, maybe it's time to wake up from Groundhog Day. In the movie, Bill Murray's character Phil finally wakes up to a new day when he starts making different choices. At first, Phil spends all his time trying to "get it right." He does the same things over and over, hoping that somehow he can produce different results. (Sound familiar?) When despite his efforts, he remains stuck in the same endless day, he becomes depressed and attempts suicide. But there is no escape; he simply wakes up right back where he started.

Finally, Phil takes two important steps: he tells the truth about what's happening to him, and he asks for help. And what is the advice he gets? Instead of struggling to get it right or fighting to escape, he is told to experience life at its fullest. Phil starts to really connect with the people around him, to listen to what's important to them, and to help with their problems instead of being focused on his own. He joins into the community around him and works to develop his talents and share them with others. He begins for the first time to live a balanced, compassionate life.

Real life answers aren't always as simple as the Hollywood version, but as fables go, this one holds some valuable lessons. At the end of the film, Phil says, "No matter what happens tomorrow or for the rest of my life, I'm happy now." Sounds good, doesn't it?

Labels: life purpose

One of the things I love about living right next to Golden Gate Park is that minutes from my front door is another world. I walk past Kezar Stadium, the carousel at the Children's Playground, the lawn bowling greens, and the National AIDS Memorial Grove, and in ten minutes I can be at the Lily Pond. On weekdays before and after tourist season, the Lily Pond is a quiet place with few visitors. Turtles sun themselves on the far bank, and ducks swim close to the near shore looking for a handout of breadcrumbs.

On a recent afternoon when I was taking a much-needed break from finalizing the manuscript for my new book, I strolled to the Lily Pond. A middle school-aged group of boys were standing on the shore with their teacher. The full attention of the boys was on the ducks, swimming close to the near shore and quacking loudly. The teacher was focused only on the boys, trying to point out some of the natural wonders of the spot while preventing them from throwing rocks into the water.

None of them saw what I did. At the far edge of the pond, quietly standing in the lilies, was a great blue heron, serene and majestic. It was a magnificent sight here in the middle of the city and steps away from the heavy traffic on Lincoln Blvd. I spoke to a couple of the boys who were near me and pointed to the giant bird, wanting them to see it. But all the boys could see and hear were the ducks, quacking insistently at their feet. Finally, I got the teacher's attention, which was not an easy task, given the rambunctiousness of the boys.

When he at last saw the heron, his jaw dropped. He gathered the boys around and began telling them all about its feeding habits and what a special treat it was to see one here. The boys were fascinated; they stopped throwing rocks. Just then, the heron took off, spreading its huge wings and making its distinctive "kraak" cry. The teacher snapped a photo of the bird in flight.

Isn't it just like us humans to be completely focused on the quacking ducks at our feet? There they are, noisy and demanding -- tasks, responsibilities, deadlines, and obligations. They consume all our attention and keep our eyes and minds on what is immediately in front of us. But if we stop for a moment and lift our eyes, something we least expect may be right there waiting for us. It may be a learning opportunity, a moment of inspiration, or the exact thing we have been looking for all along.

But to see it, you have to ignore the quacking ducks.

Labels: life purpose

When I was going through coach training at The Coaches Training Institute, we learned a process of values clarification to use with our clients. We first had to try it on ourselves, of course, and it was the first time I had ever set down in writing what my personal values were.

In the process we learned, we were encouraged to give our values a unique name that captured our personal flavor of an otherwise generic value. (You can learn more about this process from the book Co-Active Coaching.) For example, I identified a key value of mine called "persistence" and connected it with ideas such as survival, resolve, fortitude, and determination. The name I coined for this value was "whatever-it-takes."

Picture the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones -- already battered and bruised enough to defeat any ordinary person -- learns that the Ark is leaving the area on a truck. "Truck?" he says, "What truck?" and struggles to his feet to continue the chase. That's the whatever-it-takes value in action.

Now values are a very personal thing, and just because I hold this particular one doesn't mean it's universal. But I believe that this is what heroes do -- whatever it takes to achieve their mission, accomplish their goal, complete the quest. There's no room for "I can't." The hero says instead, "How can I?" while resourcefully looking for another way. I have found that these three words can serve as a magic elixir for the disheartened hero.

The next time you find yourself frustrated, discouraged, or even without hope of carrying on, ask yourself, "How can I?" and just see what happens.

Labels: heroism, life purpose

I've been absent from blogging for some time now due to the mysterious neurological disorder I mentioned in my last post. It became quite serious and incapacitating for a couple of weeks, and has now finally returned to the status of annoying-but-not-disabling. The various health professionals I've seen have still not been able to determine a cause for my symptoms, but have run enough tests to tell me it's neither fatal nor an indicator of any known major disease.

There was a period of about a week when the symptoms were quite severe and the neurologist I saw was suggesting several rather dire diagnoses, none of which turned out to be the case. I was unable to work or do much of anything other than lie on the couch and attempt to distract my anxious brain with old movies. Looking for a silver lining in this very dark cloud, I thought I would take this opportunity to examine my attitudes about prayer.

According to the Wikipedia, the first recorded claim that "there are no atheists in foxholes" has been attributed to Lt. Colonel William J. Clear, speaking on the radio about American and Filipino forces on Bataan being overwhelmed by the Japanese during World War II. Clear was suggesting that men under fire find religion in their most desperate hour, and since that time his words have been echoed from many pulpits. For the record, atheists strongly dispute this claim.

I've never been an atheist myself. At various times in my life, I would have identified my religion as Christian, pagan, agnostic, or deist. These days, I'm closer to being a Buddhist than anything else. Only during my Christian days did I spend any time in prayer. In other phases of my life, I haven't been opposed to praying; I just haven't done it... except in times of extremity.

Faced with an incapacitating illness with no prognosis for recovery available, I decided to pray. They were simple prayers, not for deliverance, really, but expressing gratitude for my life so far and asking for guidance on how to become well again. What I found was that praying made me feel better.

Even without the confidence that my prayers would be answered (or even heard), it simply felt better to pray. It gave me a sense of relief and a lessened burden. On one hand, there was the intellectual acknowledgement that now I had really done everything I could do to get well again. On a quite different level, I experienced the easing sensation of "turning it over" to a higher power that those with faith often describe. I've sometimes thought that turning it over implied being less responsible for the outcome. But I was not in any way abdicating my responsibility to care for my own illness. What I was doing was asking for help in managing it.

On the path I've described to becoming a hero, Step 7 is "Seeking Guidance." Up until now, I've been thinking of this primarily as a necessary step to choosing the right direction and staying on course. But what I now realize is that it can also be a way to lighten the burden of being a hero. Receiving guidance undoubtedly helps the hero do the right thing. But the simple act of asking for that guidance can also provide the hero with the added strength needed to sustain his quest.

Labels: heroism, life purpose

I've never been very good at waiting. When faced with a challenge of any sort, my natural tendency is to take action. This heroic quality has served me well in many situations, but it has also gotten me into a lot of trouble. Sometimes the best way to move forward is to sit tight for a bit until you can calm down, gather more information, carefully contemplate options, or receive guidance from a mentor or higher power.

Taking action when you really should be waiting may give you momentary satisfaction, but can send you careening down the wrong path. You may find yourself making commitments you will later regret, upsetting people you would prefer to have on your side, or otherwise getting in way over your head. I speak from experience. I have often thought that the epitaph on my tombstone should read, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Since my first response is typically to act, I have never learned to wait well. When circumstances (or a wiser voice) force me to wait, I can find it excruciatingly uncomfortable. This is the case now. For the past six weeks, I've been suffering from an unexplained neurological condition. (If you have noticed fewer postings on the Hero site, that's why.) It's not disabling, but extremely distracting -- sort of like someone constantly poking you to get your attention. It's one of those symptoms that might go away all by itself and never recur. Or it might be a sign of something more serious. So far, all the tests ordered by various doctors and specialists have come up negative. But the process of diagnosis requires an incredible amount of anxious waiting -- first for the new test to be scheduled, then for the results to come in, then to hear from the doctor to interpret the results and suggest what the next test should be. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

So what can a person born without the waiting gene do? I've decided to take this opportunity to learn more about waiting. In my planned chapter in the Hero book on "Listening for the Call," I am now picturing a section on waiting skills. Surfing for resources on this subject, I uncovered
"In Just a Minute: Teaching Students the Skill of Waiting" by Terrance Kwame-Ross. Several other resources also suggested that waiting was a life skill that children should learn in school. But what about us adults who were playing hooky the day they taught this one?

Then I found this reference in, of all places, a guide to dancing the Argentine tango: "Only when one person has the discipline to wait (ie. to commit to stand to one side) are the two people able to pass." Waiting = committing to stand to one side. At last, a concrete action to take about waiting! I can commit to stand to one side and allow all of this to pass. Our tango expert Stephen T. Chin-Bow makes it clear that this is not simply passive participation, but an important skill for followers to learn in order to dance well with leaders. And with this one hint, I have suddenly realized why I find waiting so hard. Chin-Bow says: "Some... do not have personalities to make good followers. A close friend of mine... will never learn to be a good follower... because she admits she has difficulty surrendering control and letting herself be led." He's got my number... and that of quite a few other heroes I know.

So waiting has emerged as an important skill that leaders can learn from followers. If the hero wishes to follow the right path, make considered decisions, and take appropriate action, sometimes the best thing to do is to step aside and let the dragon pass.

Labels: life purpose

In the current issue of Shambhala Sun, Cyndi Lee reveals, "The word 'balance' comes from the Latin balare, meaning 'to dance.'" Lee is the author of OM Yoga: A Guide to Daily Practice and her article is ostensibly about yoga, but these words about physical balance could apply equally as well to life balance.

In trying to fit our myriad potential lives into just one time-limited human life, we struggle to achieve life balance. How can one be a hero, make a living, maintain a relationship, care for a family, stay healthy, and take time to smell the flowers all in one lifetime? Or worse, all in one week? We work at the balancing act, trying to craft the perfect schedule that makes room for everything, and hoping that some day it will all miraculously come together.

Perhaps we are going at this all wrong. What if instead of attempting to "achieve balance," as if it were some static state one could arrive at, we simply chose to dance with our crowded agenda? After all, even physical balance can't be maintained without constant movement. Try standing on one foot and you'll see.

Lee reminds us, "You know what happens to water if it stays still -- it either turns into ice or becomes brackish and unhealthy. The same thing happens when we try to latch on to a prescribed feeling or experience." Rather than working hard to get balanced, maybe we should just become better dancers. What would today look like if you chose to dance with your goals, plans, and calendar instead of striving to balance them?

Labels: life purpose

In Maggie Oman Shannon's new blog, Living the New Story, she describes the process of "following the bread crumbs" to find one's calling. Maggie is the author of One God, Shared Hope: Twenty Threads Shared by Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

I think the following-the-bread-crumbs method of discovery is vastly underrated by our all-too-linear Western culture. A popular belief that can defeat the would-be hero is the idea that your calling is supposed to descend upon on you at an early age, and you should recognize it at once. In fact, it's probably much more common not to figure out what you're really here for until midlife (at least). And when you do, you will probably realize that you have been sniffing around the edges of whatever it is for quite some time without quite recognizing it.

Speaking of bread crumbs, Maggie's blog has also quite coincidentally reconnected me with someone I encountered while following my own crumb trail many years ago. Jamie Walters and I first met via the San Francisco Bay Guardian's Women in Business directory in 1993. Jamie is the founder of Ivy Sea, "fostering the spirit of conscious enterprise, big vision, inspired leadership, skillful communication, and more conscious ways of living, working, thinking, and being." She's also the author of Big Vision, Small Business: 4 Keys to Success Without Growing Big.

In her recent article, "Authentic Leadership or Mindless Mimicry," Jamie highlights the value of following your own visionary trail of bread crumbs vs. other more well-trodden paths: "What [visionaries] can teach... is the very power of choosing authenticity and following one's own vision versus falling in with the crowd that's mindlessly following some trend and then wondering why they find it lacking in truth and vibrance. Yet there is good reason why so many more follow trends than seek-and-do from their own authentic vision: to follow a fad is much easier; to fall in with the crowd seems less risky. To act from your authenticity requires that you know who you are, at your core, and then find the courage to be that — unmasked — in the world."

Labels: heroism, life purpose

I'm back home in San Francisco now, but the following entry was written while still cruising last week. Getting online from the ship was possible but limited, hence this delayed posting.

The last few days, I've been thinking a lot about the role that choice plays in our lives. On our days at sea, there are important decisions to be made constantly: swim or take cha cha lessons; read or embroider; eat lunch in the dining room or the buffet. I've been able to settle such burning questions as whether I prefer English Breakfast or Earl Grey for my morning tea (English Breakfast wins), and whether Monopoly, Clue, or Yahtzee is my favorite (Monopoly rules).

I understand that some people feel trapped when traveling on a ship for days at a time, but I find that on an average day here on the Island Princess, I have more choices available than I ever do on a work day. There's no enforced routine aboard a big ship like this -- food is available 24/7, the pools, Jacuzzis, gyms, and public rooms are always open. If you didn't know which way the ship was facing, you couldn't even tell sunrise from sunset. With no structure at all, there is nothing left but a constant state of choice.

If you turn that idea around, what it tells you is that the more structure you impose in your life, the less choice you have. It sounds somewhat obvious when stated that bluntly, but I think we often forget this simple equation. We may think we are exercising our independence when we add things to our schedules -- our chosen work or school routine, time for meals, appointments with everyone from doctors to hairstylists, classes for exercise and recreation, dates with lovers and friends.

But every choice we make leaves us with... less choice, as our days and Palm Pilots become filled with where, when, and with whom we are supposed to be. So much supposed-to-be shuts out just being. There's no time to find out who you are when you are always having to be somewhere else.

Labels: life purpose

Yesterday was like a visit to Mount Olympus. I spent the day indulging in more self-care activities than I normally do in a month. I went to a talk on collaging to plan your future with peak performance coach Linda Mercier, ate three healthy gourmet meals, took a yoga/pilates fusion class, swam and soaked in the Jacuzzi in a Thai-themed atrium where a statue of the Buddha overlooks the pool, walked a couple of miles around the promenade while listening to the Dalai Lama on tape, sat on the balcony embroidering, had tea with three of the lecturers traveling with the ship, danced to a jazz band with my sweetheart, and watched a song and dance extravaganza from front-row center seats with Dave and four good friends.

What would it be like, I wonder, to live a life with that much relaxation in it all the time? Would it be so enriching it couldn't help but stimulate my creativity, or such a distraction that all productive work would halt? I do notice even in just one day of such an intense focus on myself, that it takes an enormous amount of time to pay so much attention to me. It's a bit of a relief to realize that if I actually did spend as much time as I sometimes think I should in exercise, meditation, learning, etc., that there would hardly be a moment for anything else. It lets me off the hook from trying to make all that fit into just one life, which I do want to be a productive one.

And that is one of the most important functions of vacations, isn't it -- to give you a new perspective on everyday things.

Labels: life purpose

Another topic that arose in Timo Navsky's Hero discussion group pertained to my suggestion that the first step on the path to becoming a hero was to put yourself in situations that evoke your higher self rather than your lower. Someone asked, "But how do you know what is your higher self?" Hmmm.

I suppose the easy answer is to say "trust your intuition" or something of the sort. But personally, I get frustrated by recipes that say, "bake until done." If I'm using a recipe, I want it to offer a bit more guidance than that. So here are some suggestions on the recipe for heroes.

Ask yourself where you are suffering right now. What situation or conditions are a thorn in your side? If you're feeling a vague dissatisfaction but can't pinpoint it, try using the Wheel of Life coaching tool to locate its source. When you've identified a point of discomfort, ask yourself if doing something about that pain would free you from worrying about yourself and create more expansiveness to turn your thoughts to helping others. If so, you may have identified a situation that needs to be changed to allow your higher self to emerge.

Another idea is to ask what's pissing you off right now. What situations or conditions really make you angry? Now, what can you do about changing those? If you are trapped in anger, your lower self is running the show. This is true even if your anger seems to be about hardships which plague people other than yourself. Use your anger as a symptom to uncover what needs to be addressed, but don't allow it to dictate your actions. This is rarely a sustainable path for the enlightened hero.

Looking for where you are suffering or what makes you angry are ways to identify what you might need to move away from. But you can also focus on what it is you need to move toward. Susan Thesenga, author of The Undefended Self says, "The higher self is our personal embodiment of and connection to the universal spirit that moves through all things. Meeting the higher self... is an experience usually accompanied by relief, as we feel we are coming home to our true identity, remembering who we truly are... In this expanded identity we find our center and ground."

Thesenga suggests that to locate our higher selves, we, "...begin with claiming those positive aspects of our personality which are aligned with truth, love, serenity, or beauty." I would add to this list some additional qualities essential for heroes: compassion, generosity, openness, conscientiousness, and increased awareness. When in doubt about which is the right direction, move toward people and situations that will bring out or increase these qualities in yourself. By doing so, you are grooming yourself to become a hero.

Labels: heroism, life purpose

"If we really want happiness, we must acknowledge that it comes about by taking care of other people."
    -- The Dalai Lama

It often seems that all of Western culture is dedicated to the pursuit of happiness. In the U.S. Declaration of Independence, we claim it as an unalienable right. But for many, this pursuit seems to be about their own happiness, with little heed for the greater good. I'm not accusing an entire hemisphere of behaving selfishly (although perhaps I should), but rather of being self-absorbed. I see a difference.

If the happiness you pursue is limited to your own enjoyment of life, achieving your goals rarely produces lasting joy. When all of your needs and most of your wants are satisfied, then what? The result is the existential emptiness described by so many who have achieved material success, but are lacking a deeper meaning for their lives.

What if the answer were as simple as working for the happiness of others instead of your own? A simple beginning is devotin