How Might We Boost Labor Productivity in Michigan?

What is Labor Productivity and Why Does it Matter?

I want you to care about labor productivity at the state level. Here’s a ChatGPT-supported primer on what labor productivity is and why it matters.

Labor productivity, the measure of output or value produced per unit of labor input, holds crucial significance at the state level. This economic metric directly impacts a state's health, competitiveness, and overall prosperity. States with higher labor productivity levels tend to experience robust economic growth, attracting businesses and creating job opportunities. This growth leads to tangible improvements in living standards, healthcare, infrastructure, and education, enhancing the quality of life for residents.

Conversely, low labor productivity can signal inefficiencies, hindering job creation and potentially leading to stagnant economies. In such cases, residents may face reduced access to quality healthcare and education, limited infrastructure development, and a less favorable living environment. Therefore, labor productivity serves as a vital tool for state-level policymakers, guiding their decisions on resource allocation, workforce development, and policies aimed at fostering economic growth. By prioritizing productivity, states can elevate the well-being of their citizens and build stronger, more prosperous communities.

Stanley Fischer, former Vice Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board of Governors, gave a talk in July 2017, titled "Government Policy and Labor Productivity." He expounded on the importance of labor productivity, stating that it is a basic determinant of the rate of growth of average income per capita over long periods. To understand the impact of productivity growth, consider this rule of thumb: divide 70 by the growth rate to estimate the doubling time of productivity. For instance, during the 25 years from 1948 to 1973, labor productivity grew at 3.25% annually, doubling in just 22 years. In contrast, from 1974 to 2016, the growth rate slowed to 1.75%, doubling the time to 41 years. This illustrates the significant difference in economic prospects across generations, highlighting the importance of productivity.

How has labor productivity been trending in the State of Michigan?

Overall, Michigan is not among the leading states with respect to it’s long run growth rate for labor productivity. Here’s an example that puts it into perspective.

Imagine two businesses, one in Michigan and the other in North Dakota, starting in 2007 with 100 units of output per unit of labor. Over the next 15 years, their paths diverge significantly. In Michigan, the average annual growth of 0.8% sees modest progress, reaching 113 units by 2022. In North Dakota, with a 2.7% growth, the productivity soars to 149 units of output per unit of labor. That difference is real money, real wealth, and real prosperity. This stark contrast in growth trajectories illustrates the transformative power of productivity rates.

For a more detailed analysis of recent trends (and data related to the thought experiment above), check out what the Bureau of Labor Statistics has published about state-level labor productivity, including the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic and specific changes in 2022. They’re fascinating.

The Opportunity

There is an opportunity to increase the long-run labor productivity growth rate in the State of Michigan.

Targeted strategies, rather than broad, sweeping changes, are more likely to yield positive results. The complexity of labor productivity issues necessitates a cross-sector vision and strategy, aligning efforts from the private sector, government, academia, the social sector, philanthropy, and the educational sector around a coordinated mission.

As I see it, taising labor productivity at the state level involves three distinct phases of work, with an assumption of continuous iteration.

The first phase is to deeply understand the problem. Michigan's world-class research universities should conduct research to understand what drives and hinders labor productivity in the state. This includes quantitative and qualitative research, examining factors like capital investment, skills development, and innovation, as well as under-utilized assets for improving productivity. We need to understand labor productivity deeply - by industry, by job type, by geography, and more.

The second phase involves a cross-functional group of major stakeholders and citizen groups selecting areas of focus (e.g., industry, types of jobs, regions of Michigan) that present unique opportunities for improving labor productivity. Success metrics and data infrastructure should be established early on to allow for dispassionate evaluation of implemented solutions. The cross-functional group could then moves to ideation, brainstorming solutions within each of the focus areas. Prioritization criteria - developed in advance - should then be used to narrow down possibilities, aiming to identify a set of small, quickly testable experiments.

This is worth nothing, the goal shouldn’t be to have huge transformation and an endless slate of big splash initiatives. At the beginning, learning is more important. And the best way to learn is to deploy small-scale programs quickly and cheaply.

After about a year, the group would start phase three by reconvening to assess the experiments, deciding what to scale, stop, or further test. This process will likely reveal systemic blockers, informing a data-driven policy agenda. The group can then iterate and scale the most effective strategies and pursue the most promising policy innovations for increasing labor productivity in Michigan.

I am excited about what’s happening in Michigan. A deep, cross-functional examination of labor productivity could bring together our most capable institutions and thinkers to collaborate and make our state more prosperous. We have great assets across sectors; all we need is the will and a framework to collaborate productively. Labor productivity matters and is a simple concept that can create an organizing framework and sense of shared purpose for driving transformational collaboration across sectors. We should strive to raise labor productivity together, at the state level.

In conclusion

Understanding and improving labor productivity is not just an economic concern; it's a pathway to enhancing the quality of life for everyone in Michigan. Let's not just witness the change – let's be the architects of it. There are so many exciting ideas (like the UM Detroit Innovation Center or the Growing Michigan Together Council) which might create opportunities for influencing labor productivity that are just starting in Michigan. Reach out, contribute your thoughts, and let's turn these ideas into actionable strategies. Together, we can forge a future where economic growth and prosperity are shared by all.

You can reach me at hello@neiltambe.com or leave a comment. I’m excited to hear from you.

Who should help us measure our lives?

Who should help me measure my life?

By that I mean, whose eyes should I look through to understand my contribution to the world and the type of person I am? Who should I lean on to confirm whether my life has meaning or is wasted? Who can help me evaluate the parts of myself I can’t see?

To me the answer is simple: the people who know the full extent of who I am. The people who should help us measure our lives are the people that know us intimately. The people who see us in the trenches and up close. The people we cannnot hide our true character from, even if we tried. The people who should help us measure our lives are the people who can see our intent, our thinking, our emotions, our habits, our behaviors, and all the other invisible things we are that are.

Who should help us measure our lives? The people who actually have a 360-degree view of the relevant data about who we are.

By this definition, those are people like our spouses, our families, and our closest friends. Maybe it could also be our colleagues or neighbors who we trust enough to let down our masks and armor. Hopefully we know ourselves in this way, too.

And maybe, it could also be looser ties, who are with us in our most joyous and trying moments - like moments of grief, struggle, sacrifice, or hardship, like doctors, pastors, social workers, or public servants who help us in crises. If we’re lucky, we might also find those people from a team we were on that was trying to accomplish something difficult or of great import - whether that’s our high school theatre group, a soccer team, or a team from our professional life, working on a difficult and meaningful achievement.

What this implies, is that the vast majority of people we’ve ever met aren’t well equipped to help us measure our lives. The people who usually only interact with us based on what they see on LinkedIn or Instagram? Not qualified. Our colleagues? Mostly not qualified, unless we have a generous and transparent relationship with them. Our contemporaries from high school or college? Mostly not qualified, unless they were the people we stayed up all night bonding with, who know us at our best, worst, and most honest.

***

After many years, my inner voice was finally able to bring words to my angst about life and career.

“I am so much more and greater than what my accomplishments suggest. All these people who look at my LinkedIn profile, my job title, and even what I post on facebook don’t know the full story of what I am.”

To be sure, this sentiment causes me and has caused me a deep turmoil and angst. I just get so frustrated because I feel so capable but I don’t have as much to show for it as others. My peers from school (at every level, but especially college and grad school) are objectively a lot more successful and probably more wealthy than me. My peer group has people, too, who have made substantial contributions to the world. Even at work, within my own company, I feel like I have so much untapped potential and ability to create results than the title, rank, and level of respect I currently have.

This, honestly, causes me this deep, churning, in-my-gut kind of angst. I feel sometimes that I’m wasting my talent. On my worst days, I feel like I’m wasting my life.

What I finally realized this week, is that it’s illogical to expect these people to see the full picture of who I am. It’s unreasonable to expect the vast majority of people to help me measure my life, especially because I haven’t let down my guard or had enough time with the vast majority of people for them to see who I am, fully.

There’s no reason for angst about this, because the people that I’m seeking validation from and wanting to help me measure my life, can’t possibly give it.

***

I wish that I could measure my life on my own. Honestly, it would be much simpler if I could see myself clearly enough to make my own adjustments. I want to measure my life, in some way at least, so that I can live a life of integrity and some amount of contribution and meaning. If I evaluate myself, I can make adjustments to be better

The problem is, I can’t adequately self-evaluated because I’m biased. I am a mortal man who has ego. I am not fully enlightened. I need help to see myself as I am. I need the feedback of the people who really know me, deep down, to help me make adjustments so I can be a good guy in a stressed out world. I live enmeshed in a social world, and a community of others - how could I not need help to measure my life if my life impacts the lives of others?

For others to help me measure my life, then, I need to exhibit full-scale honesty: honesty with my self and honesty with others. If I want help measuring my life I have to let people in, and I have to have at least some confidants with who I don’t hid the full gamut of good, bad, and ugly.

This is one of the things I find so compelling about a belief in God: God is someone who there’s no reason to lie to. Because if you believe in God, you believe they know you intimately and fully - there’s no incentive to hide the truth, because God already knows. Similarly, this is why I love journaling - the journal is a safe place to tell the full, completely naked truth. There’s no reason to lie in our journal, if it’s private. If we don’t have people we trust enough to be ourselves, can at least be honest with God and the journal.

What does this all mean? I’m still grappling with this as it’s an entirely new idea for me. What I think this means is two things.

First, I have to be fully honest with myself and with at least some others. And two, I can let go the pressure I feel to be like my more successful peers, because those means of evaluation - social media, my work performance review, or my social standing - is an incomplete picture anyway. I can lean on the people who know me fully to help me measure my life and help me evaluate whether I’m the sort of person I seek to be.

We all can.

Positive Deviance: The Invisible Path to Societal Change

Have you ever noticed someone in your community doing something small yet unusual, like picking up litter during their daily walk, or always making a point to include the quiet voices in a meeting? These acts might seem minor, but they are examples of 'positive deviance'—simple actions that can lead to significant societal change.

In general, there are two ways to make a positive contribution to the world: positive results and positive deviance.

Let's define our terms: 'Positive results' refer to tangible achievements and products that visibly improve our world, like a successful fundraiser or a groundbreaking invention. In contrast, 'positive deviance' involves subtle, often overlooked actions that challenge and change societal norms for the better, like consistently promoting inclusivity in everyday interactions.

Positive results refer to the tangible changes we make in the world: the concrete outcomes and accomplishments that visibly improve our surroundings. These can range from small-scale projects like a bake sale that raises funds for a community cause, to larger impacts such as groundbreaking scientific discoveries, influential books that spark new conversations, innovative products that enhance daily life, or legislative reforms that address social injustices.

An example is a community garden initiative, not only beautifying a neighborhood but also providing fresh produce to its residents, or a new recycling policy resulting from a grassroots campaign that significantly reduces local waste. Positive results are changes to the 'what.'

In contrast, positive deviance focuses on the subtler changes in 'how' we behave and interact: the ways we subtly shift cultures and norms for the better. These acts of positive deviance might not always be grand in scale but are equally impactful.

It could be as simple as a neighbor who makes a point of warmly greeting everyone during her morning walks, challenging the norm of indifference in her community. Or consider a workplace leader who actively ensures that quieter voices, often overlooked, are heard and valued in meetings. These are acts of positive deviance – behaviors that stand out not because they follow the crowd, but precisely because they forge a better path.

Both are legitimate ways to change the world.

One might argue that these small acts of positive deviance are too insignificant to make any real difference, especially when compared to large-scale, tangible achievements. However, history and social science tell us otherwise. The accumulation of these small acts can gradually shift societal norms, creating lasting change in ways that are not immediately apparent but deeply transformative over time.

This is worth saying out loud because it’s hard to believe. Positive results are more tangible because changes to the "what" are very visible. You can count the money a bake sale raises, just like you can feel the healing in your body when taking a new medicine. Additionally, you can point to the team that got the result and say their names out loud. Both the effort of results and the outputs of result are concentrated in a thing.

Positive deviance is less tangible, in fact, it’s often subtle or even invisible. You hardly notice when a neighbor smiles at you or when a meeting facilitator creates the space to contribute for people who are usually ignored. People who act as positive deviants do this over and over, they change norms drop by drop to the point where nobody realizes that their behavior has spread and has become the new normal. Unlike positive results, both the efforts and the outputs of positive deviances are distributed. The work to change norms usually isn’t concentrated or centralized, and the results aren’t woven into something you can touch or feel. It just happens.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t change the world. It absolutely does. Culture has value. When you make change drop by drop, and spread that new norm person by person, block by block, over time, that behavior that started with one little drop becomes an ocean. That ocean of positive culture, norms, and behaviors has immense value.

Often, the path of positive deviance feels illegitimate because it’s hard to point to and see and feel. It's easy to feel discouraged because the acts of individual people can’t be easily credited with the sea change they contribute to. But these actions are legitimate. Although it's hard to pinpoint exactly where that water came from or who brought it there, it didn’t just appear out of nowhere. People made it happen, drop by drop.

Making change happen drop by drop instead of from concentrate doesn’t make it any less legitimate - it’s just less visible.

I say all this because being a positive deviant is discouraging. As a positive deviant, you act with so much courage to behave in a way that’s not normal. You bear this risk to behave better, knowing that you might get ostracized or punished for it. And then, drop by drop, things change and you get no reward and usually not any recognition. The culture changes, but most people forget that the ocean didn’t just appear out of nowhere.

Changing the "what" gets a lot of applause, changing the "how" does not.

I know this firsthand from my professional life. Most organizations promote people and even give informal recognition based on results. People get rewarded based on who brings home the results, not on who shifts norms. It’s maddening that invisible work is hard to celebrate and reward - especially if you’re the one doing it.

I understand it though, because after all in the world results do matter. Culture is not something that feeds the hungry or pays the bills. And, structurally it’s much easier to point to something tangible than something invisible. I’m not advocating for positive deviants to get more credit and rewards than they do - I honestly don’t think that’ll ever happen at scale because the cards are stacked against that happening.

But if you’re a positive deviant, too, I think we should do it anyway. I was talking at lunch with Lindsay, my team leader at work, about character and that’s something she said that stuck with me, “do it anyway.” That’s an essential way of describing character, right? If something is the right thing to do, a positive thing to do - you don’t do it only if you get applause for it, you do it anyway.

The work to behave differently is legitimate. The work to change culture and shift norms is legitimate. Just because it’s not visible doesn’t make it any less legitimate. The work of changing the "how" through positive deviance is a legitimate way to change the world, and even though it’s discouraging that it’s often invisible, we should do it anyway.

The Irony of Intention: My Accidental Phone Fast

The Unintended Experiment

Just like everyone else, I spend many bullshit hours on my phone every week and a few more loathing myself for it. I know it affects my mood, my body, and my relationships negatively. It’s terrible, and such a waste of time and energy. Every week, I tell myself, “this is the week” and yet, I do it again. It’s maddening.

Oddly, I forgot my phone at the office on Thursday. I didn’t think the two hour round trip was worth it to retrieve it, which meant I would be without a phone until Tuesday - my next in-office day. This created a natural experiment: what happens when I literally can’t be on my phone because it’s not here? All the usual tropes were true…I can get by without it, I’m so less distracted, I sleep better, social media is so addictive, yadda yadda yadda.

But there was one big surprise. I used to blame my phone and social media for all these distractions and toxic influences. But really, it’s not the phone or social media that’s the problem - it’s that my intentions are weak.

A strong intention is an intention that you care about enough to follow through, even if it requires substantial discomfort. For me, running and exercising is a strong intention. A weak intention is an intention that fizzles away even under minor duress. Mowing the lawn and raking the leaves is one of those for me. I’ve been saying I’m going to do it for weeks, but here I am and another weekend has passed without it happening. That’s a weak intention.

I realized this weekend that my phone is not really a distraction, it’s just the easiest thing to do when I’m not exactly sure what I want to be doing. The problem, really, is that within the ebbs and flows of the day, I don’t really have intentions of how I want things to go. And when I don’t have a clear, strong intention I don’t sit idle - I bullshit.

Because when I bullshit, I can feel comfortable and feel like I’m doing something useful, without having to go through the struggle of figuring out something better and actually doing it. It’s a perfect trap.

The real solution isn’t limiting the phone, it’s forming stronger intentions for the part of the day I’m in. If I had stronger intentions, I wouldn’t be on my phone as much because I’d be spending my time doing things I care more about.

The Parallel: Resisting Yummy Bacon

Here’s another way to think about it, let’s talk about bacon.

I like bacon. It’s really delicious. When I smell it, I still crave it. Same thing with pepperoni and chicken wings. They’re SO good.

But I haven’t eaten those foods in years, I went solidly pescetarian about 10 years ago and haven’t looked back. I don’t even eat much fish anymore. Even when there’s delicious bacon, pepperoni, or chicken wings on a restaurant menu I don’t flinch any more. Why? Because I feel much stronger of an intention about not eating meat than I used to. Now, I have a strong intention because I’ve decided that I don’t want to take an animal’s life to avoid starvation if I don’t have to, especially because there are many delicious alternatives that are better for my health and the environment.

In high school, I used to waffle because I didn’t really have strong intentions about vegetarianism - I kind of just flirted with it and was a vegetarian when it was convenient, more than anything else. So I caved and flip-flopped on my dietary restrictions often.

My phone is the same way, because I don’t have a strong intention of what I want to do or focus on today, I jump to my phone because it’s an easy mechanism to give myself something to do.

The Rub: Making Intention Tangible

I will get my phone from the office when I head in on Tuesday. But this experiment has taught me a valuable lesson, it’s important to make short-term, intra-day intentions strong and explicit. Luckily, I do this already for longer time horizons of my life:

What do I intend to contribute to that’s bigger than just me?

I’m good on this one. I intend to be a loving husband, father, and citizen. Beyond unconditional love to my family, I want to help the world become a free and trusting place.

What do I intend for this phase of my life?

I’m good on this one too, but it’s a bit more scattered.

Right now, I intend to help our family take root, form a cohesive bond, and be ready to flourish once we’re out of diapers. Professionally, I intend to do a lot of experiments to understand the different paths I can take to influence the things I care about most: trust in government, social trust, morality and character, leadership on every block, and issues like homicide, suicide, parks, and the literacy rate.

What do I intend for this season within this phase?

I don’t think about this a ton, but I think about it enough.

I intend to help get our home life running efficiently and with less friction. I also intend to get back to connecting with friends and our extended family. Finally, I intend to bring energy to my teams at work and figure out where I want to pivot. Oh, and publish this book I’ve been working on for seven years.

This is where I get stuck. I get caught up in the motions and don’t translate these longer-term and loftier intentions into our daily grind.

What do intend for the next week or two?

Generally, I wouldn’t think like this. But if I took the time to , I would probably say, “Get our lingering house projects and yardwork done before the holidays hit. Take more time to have fun and make eye contact with my sons. Go on a date with Robyn. Get my edits done so I can hire a proofreader and cover designer for this book project.”

What do I intend for this part of the day (i.e., between now and our next meal)?

Generally, I wouldn’t think like this. But if I took the time for it, I’d say - get the minimum cleaning done so we can take a family walk and play a game together.

Because I don’t get specific at this granular, intra-day level, and set an explicit intention for the next few hours before I eat the next meal, I bullshit. Usually on my phone.

If I don’t set specific intentions for the immediate few hours, It’s like my brain says, “I don’t know exactly what comes next. Do I want to make a plan that’s in line with my favorite hobbies and long-term plans? Do I want to make the most of my workday afternoon? Uhhh, naw. I’ll just look at videos of college kids doing trick shots with golf balls bouncing off of cookware and check my e-mail instead.”

The Takeaway: Intention in the Immediate

This is the big lesson. We have to have clear, strong intentions for the long-term but also for the time that’s right in front of our face. This is true at home, in our work, and in our community organizations. Some people are good at setting longer-term intentions. Others are better at setting immediate, short-term, intentions. But the truth is, we really need strong intentions for both.

If we don’t set clear intentions, especially at the level of the next few hours, we bullshit. And for me that usually means bullshitting on my phone.

But it could manifest as something more subtle than scrolling on a smartphone. At home, it could be cleaning stuff I don’t really have to clean, or just turning on the TV in the background while I wash dishes - both are comfortable, but aren’t in line my strongest intentions.

At work, it could be attending useless meetings to feel busy without actually having to work, or doing mundane tasks which nobody cares too much about - both are comfortable, but they’re usually not what the best use of our time is.

All in all, I’m really glad I forgot my phone at the office for a weekend. It was good to have a reason to reflect on it. My test will be to set stronger intra-day intentions so I bullshit less and pay attention to my family more. I don’t have to be addicted to my phone, none of us do. If we take the time to set clear intentions in the immediate-term that ladder up to our longest-term intentions, we can minimize our bullshit hours and spend that time doing things we really love, things that really matter, and things to connect with the people we care about deeply.

In the lingering, there is love.

One of the greatest acts of love is to linger.

When we linger we are saying, “Let us stay here, together. The time we have is better together. Let’s cheat our departure for just a little longer. With you, this moment is complete.”

This is what we do in our Michigan goodbyes which makes the end of a dinner party 20 minutes instead of the time it takes for a quick handshake. We want to chat a little more, hug a little longer and with an extra squeeze if you live far away - so I know it’ll say with you until you make it home. We want to hear one more story about our grandfather or our college days and laugh one more time together while we can. This is a mark of a family and not people who are simply related.

With you this moment is complete.

As much I wish our kids went to bed faster and didn’t rouse us awake when they slip under our covers, so gently, before sunrise, it still brings tears to my eyes thinking about it now. That is how they linger and the most honest way they show us that they really do love us. Don’t grow up so fast, my sons because each morning is one day closer to when you soar away from this place.

With you, this moment is complete.

I remember so fondly the lingering we would do in the fraternity house or our senior house, after the party or last call at the bar. When we’d eat our grubby burritos and play FIFA or become Guitar Heros. Most of the time, I preferred that time to the party itself. It was in the lingering that we became brothers. It was in the lingering that we formed a lifelong bond, that survives across the time zones that separate us today.

With you, this moment is complete.

Even at work, there are some times we linger in fellowship or in pursuit of the magical moment of “aha!” The meeting after the meeting, where we are free to be ourselves and speak as equals. It’s some of the only time we aren’t compelled to spend together, making it feel rare and special. It is in the lingering where we put away our masks, and finally get real - and that’s energetic and joyous.

With you, this moment is complete.

And you, my love, are who I most want to linger with. This is what we have always done. Just a little longer with our glasses of wine. Just a little longer with our walk around the neighborhood at lunch time. Just one more song, one more kiss, one more smile, one more whiff of your perfume that smells like warm vanilla sugar.

With you, I will never have enough time. I will take every extra breath together that we get. You, my love, are who I most want to linger with.

With you, this moment is complete.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Breaking Free of the Daily Grind (It’s hard)

Imagine with me.

Imagine that we have achieved individual success, measured by status and extrinsic rewards. We have reached the pinnacle of our careers, prospered, and provided for our families, as well as our immediate circle of acquaintances and charitable organizations. We have established ourselves in our community. Just picture it; we've "crushed" it.

Also, envision these triumphs extending to our community as a whole. Visualize our community thriving, adorned with fine restaurants and a vibrant cultural scene. Imagine that we enjoy a wealth of amenities and a high quality of life in our surroundings.

From an outsider's perspective, we've achieved what the American dream is often portrayed as: individual and communal comfort and affluence. The mere thought of it fills me with a sense of contentment.

—

Recently, I've been pondering this question: What could potentially tarnish the allure of this comfort and affluence? What circumstances, if true, would make me feel as though I hadn't truly lived it the right way? What are the underlying indicators that need to hold true for me to believe our affluence isn't tainted in some manner?

To me, these questions serve as a means to comprehend: "What do I care about that’s bigger than me? Than us?"

Here are my five responses. Success and affluence will only truly feel worthwhile if...

1. Murders are rare. Murders epitomize the degree of connection and harmony within our society. If murder persists, it implies the existence of conflict, suffering, pain, and anger. For me, genuine success hinges on the rarity of murders.

2. Suicides are rare. Suicides reflect how connected and in harmony we are with ourselves. When suicides occur, it signifies loneliness, despair, hopelessness, and profound sadness. Authentic success, to me, necessitates the rarity of suicides.

3. Everyone is literate. The ability to read and write holds transformative power. Literacy is indispensable for personal growth, connecting with others, securing a decent livelihood, and realizing one's personal aspirations. High illiteracy rates indicate that there are individuals who may never develop sufficiently to thrive. True success, in my view, requires universal literacy.

4. We can play outside. The great outdoors, in all its forms, holds a special place in my heart. Whether it's a soccer field, a serene lake, a city's greenway, or a majestic national park, I find joy in simply being there and breathing in the fresh air. I firmly believe that both children and adults need the joy of outdoor play in their lives. True success, for me, means the ability to play outside.

5. I've done right by others. Have I genuinely achieved success if I've done it at the expense of others? If I've been a toxic colleague or an absent father, a neglectful husband or a selfish neighbor? If I've taken advantage of people I had influence over or been dishonest merely to get ahead? Real success, in my eyes, necessitates doing right by others.

—

There are moments when I find myself excessively preoccupied with my own comfort and affluence. If you're still reading, you might have experienced this too. I sometimes dwell too much on things like career advancements, our next home improvement project, or ways to simplify our daily routine. Reflecting on such matters isn't inherently wrong; comfort and affluence, in my book, aren't immoral. But at times, it becomes excessive, and I become too self-absorbed.

In these moments, I inevitably arrive at this fundamental question: "Why am I here?"

These five aspects – murder, suicide, literacy, outdoor recreation, and ethical treatment of others – happen to be the indicators that connect to what I value beyond my individual life. What you hold dear, something bigger than yourself, is likely to differ, and it should.

I find it crucial, yet challenging, to shift my perspective away from being consumed by thoughts of my own life, particularly given how much energy we expend just to navigate each week. Lately, the prompt, "All this success and affluence will feel worth it if...," has helped me refocus on something larger than myself. If you, too, aim to anchor yourself to a purpose greater than personal gain, I hope this thought exercise proves beneficial to you.

Photo by Zachary Keimig on Unsplash

Every runner has a story

The energy at the start line of a marathon - half or full, doesn’t matter - is absolutely electric.

I think that’s because to run a half or a full marathon it takes training. And to train for something as miserable as a long race, you have to love running and you have to have some greater purpose.

The last races I did were in honor of my father. He would always encourage me to stay fit. And he’d always rib me about running and ask me how long the distances of my training runs were. The last races I did were, in retrospect, part of my process of grieving. It would’ve been so meaningful to give him a big hug at a finish line. But alas, it will never be.

This race today was for me. Rather, for an older version of me, 30-40 years in the future. That guy is depending on me to stay healthy so he can be around for a long time. That guy wants to be around and energetic for retirement. That guy wants to play, laugh, and adventure around with his grandchildren. That guy needs me to be an athlete, now.

Me and that older version of me don’t have longevity in our genes, so we run. This race today was for us.

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The purpose of other runners is palpable on the course. For some runners, training for a half is how they stay connected and find community in a running club. For others, it’s their way of changing their diet, lifestyle, and attitude. For others, they love the freedom and energy of running, or the discipline that training brings to their lives. For others, I’m sure, they’re recovering from devastating illnesses, like cancer, and running is their reminder that they beat the disease.

What I love about these races is that nobody cares if they are the winner, or have the best time. Everyone runs with their own purpose and their own goal in mind. Basically everyone, save for the most elite of runners, is mostly running to be a better version of themselves. “Winning the race” really isn’t the point.

I value this attitude greatly, because it’s honest. So little of our lives is actually a competition with others. We may perceive it to be, but that’s not really true. For the majority of the situations in our lives - whether at work, at home, or in community - all we need to do is grow and be better than the person we were yesterday. Most of the time, just like at a marathon, winning is not the point.

For this race, I had a lot of help to train properly. I had my best race yet, and it’s thanks to the Nike Run Club and the virtual coaches there. I had the right training plan, and I became a smarter and more technically sound runner. But not only that, I learned so much about being an athlete.

Coach Bennett is the global head coach of the Nike Run Club (NRC), and I felt like he was my personal coach because of the guided runs I was able to do with him. He and the other NRC coaches are emphatic about reminding the athlete of two things: 1) that they are indeed athletes because they’re working to get better, and 2) that if we’re running, we chose to run. We got through all the obstacles and got up on that starting line, which is a victory it itself.

This was a huge reframe for me.

Our mission is not to get to the finish line, for a race or even just a workout. The mission is to run in such a way that we get on the next starting line. Because only if you keep running do you keep getting better. Because only if you keep working at it do you become a better version of yourself. And that’s the point, becoming better - physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually - with every stride and every workout. I’ve found this philosophy to be so powerful, and not just while training - but at work and in family life too.

So many times during my training, and during today’s race, I would even yawp, “I’M AN ATHLETE! LET’S GO!”, to remind myself of this important lesson.

There were over 10,000 people that ran an event as part of the Detroit Marathon weekend this year. To be part of that is so humbling. Because there are 10,000 people who have stories and purpose, just like I do. That’s what I love most about Marathon weekend. It’s as much a running race, as it is a celebration of the truth that every runner has a story and so does every person.

Congratulations to everyone who raced Detroit this weekend, have raced before, or will do their first race next year.

See you at the next starting line.

Photo Credit: Robyn Tambe

We Are Everyday Artists: Seizing the Canvas of Daily Routine

What is an artist?

Three things define an artist: a point of view, refined craft, and canvas. This is my interpretation, and I'll elaborate shortly. Here’s a thread on ChatGPT for a summary of different schools of thought on what an artist is.

We can be artists in our day to day lives. Parenting can be artists’ work. Leadership can be artists’ work. Yes, artists create plays, music, paintings, and dance - but fine and performing artists are not the only artists there are.

We are all capable of being artists within our respective domains of focus. We should.

Artist = point of view + refined craft + canvas

Artists have a point of view. A point of view is a unique belief about the world and the fundamental truths about it. Put another way, an artist has something to say. A point of view is not necessarily something entertaining or popular, but I mean it as a deeper truth about life, the world, ideas, or existence itself.

A point of view might be and probably should be influenced by the work of others, but it’s not a point of view if it’s copied. To be art, the artist must internalize their point of view.

Artists have a refined craft. Artists must be able to bring their point of view to life and communicate it in a novel, interesting, and compelling way. Bringing their point of view to life in this way takes skills and practice. And it’s not just technical skills like a painters brush technique or a writer’s ability to develop characters, part of the skill of being an artist is the act of noticing previously unnoticed things, or, the ability to connect deeply with emotions, feelings, and abstract concepts.

A refined craft might be and probably should be influenced by the work of others and exceptional teachers, but it’s not a refined craft if it’s mere mimicry of someone else. A refined craft is something that the artist has mastery in.

Artists have a canvas. The point of view that an artist brings through their refined craft must be manifested somewhere. Painters literally use canvasses. For dramatic actors, their canvas is a stage performance. For muralists, their canvas is the walls of large buildings.

However, those mediums do not have to be the only canvas. For a corporate manager, their canvas might be a team meeting. For someone cooking a family dinner, their canvas might be the dinner table - both the food and the surrounding relationships. For a parent, their canvas might be their nightly bedtime routine. For someone just trying to be a good person, their canvas might be their bathroom mirror or journal, where they reflect on how their actions have impacted others.

And for what it’s worth, a canvas doesn’t have to be the center of a performative act. A canvas is merely the medium. Who sees the medium, and its level of public transparency, is an entirely different question.

Examples really bring what I mean to life. I’ve asked ChatGPT to apply the Artist = point of view + refined craft + canvas framework to a handful of people. This link will take you to an analysis of Frida Kahlo, Jay-Z, Steve Jobs, JK Rowling, Oprah Winfrey and others.

We need artists

What I find so compelling about artists is they move society and culture forward. In some ways, people who operate as artists are among the only people who can progress us forward. Why? First, artists operate in the realm of beliefs, which means they can change the deepest parts of people’s minds. Second, because artists bring a novel perspective to the table, they’re people who cut against the grain and challenge long-held norms, by definition. Artists make a difference by making things different..

This is exactly why I think we ought to operate as artists, especially in our daily lives as parents, colleagues, and community members. I believe things ought to be different and better. Kids, on average, deserve better parents. People working in teams, on average, deserve better colleagues and leaders. Communities, on average, deserve a better quality of life.

We are fortunate to be alive now, but there is room for improvement. Daily life for children, workers, and citizens ought to be much better because there is still so much unecessary drudgery and suffering.

Moreover, there is insufficient abundance for everyone to pursue a career as a fine artist or performing artist. Conventional art is invaluable, but not feasible for most to pursue professionally or as a hobby. For most of us, the only choice for us is to act as artists at home, work, or in our communities.

Again, I think examples bring it to life. Here are three personal examples that illustrate that we can think of ourselves not just as parents, leaders, or citizens, but as artists. (Note: my examples don’t imply that I’m actually good at any of these things. It’s an illustration of how one might think of these disciplines as art).

As an artist-parent…

I believe…that I am equal in worth to my children and my job is to love them and help them become good people that can take care of themselves and others. I’m merely a steward of this part of their life, and that doesn’t give me the right to be a tyrant.

Part of my craft is…to reflect questions back at them so they can think for themselves. So if they ask, “Should I ride my bike or scooter on our family walk?” I might reply, “What should you ride, buddy?”

My canvas…is every little moment and every conversation I have with my kids.

As an artist-leader at work…

I believe…our greatest contributions come collaboratively, when we act as peers and bring our unique talents together in the service of others.

Part of my craft is…creating moments where everyone on the team (including our customer) has time to speak and be heard - whether in groups or 1-1 behind the scenes..

My canvas is…team meetings, 1-1 meetings, and hallway conversations where I am in dialogue with colleagues or customers.

As an artist-citizen…

I believe…we will reach our ideal community when there is leadership present on every single block and community group.

Part of my craft is…find new people in the group and ask them to lead something, and commit to supporting them.

My canvas is…neighborhood association meetings, conversations while walking my dog, and the moments I’m just showing up.

We can be artists. Even if we can’t paint, even if we can’t dance, even if we can’t write poetry - we can be artists.

How we become everyday artists

The hard question is always “how”. How do I become an artist-parent or artist-leader? This is an important and valid question. Because these ideas of “point of view” and “craft” are so abstract and lofty.

What has made these concepts practical to attain is starting with my mindset. We can act as if our environment is a canvas.

So no, the team meeting at work isn’t just a meeting - it’s a canvas. And no, the car ride to school isn’t just 15 minutes with my sons to kindergarten or daycare drop off, it’s a canvas. These are not ordinary moments, I need to tell myself that I’m an artist and this is my canvas.

Because when I treat the world like a canvas, it goads me into considering what my point of view is. Because what’s the use of a canvas without a point of view? The existence of a canvas persuades me to form a point of view.

And when I think about my point of view, it nudges me to consider and hone my craft. Because what’s a point of view without the ability to bring it to life? Once I have a point of view, I naturally want to bring it to life.

Treating the world around me like a canvas is both under my control and the simple act which snowballs me into practicing as an artist in everyday life.

If you think being an everyday artist has merit, my advice would be to pursue it. Just start by taking something ordinary and make it a canvas. Because once we have a canvas and take our canvas seriously, an artist is simply what we become.

Photo by Anna Kolosyuk on Unsplash

The Art of Adjusting: Our Journey from Zero to Three Kids

From the outside looking in, the transformation from a couple to parents, and then to a family of five, might seem just like a change in numbers. But the journey of adjusting to each addition, the evolving dynamics, and the never-ending learning curve is a tale unto itself. Every family has its unique narrative, and ours is filled with moments of joy, chaos, discovery, and reflection.

People often ask about our journey – perhaps out of curiosity, or maybe because they're embarking on a similar path. By sharing our story, I hope to offer some insights and perhaps provide a sense of camaraderie. Parenting, after all, is a shared experience. No matter how many children you have or plan to have, it’s beautiful and impossibly hard. I've taken this opportunity to reflect on our changes, the big and small adjustments, and the lessons we've learned along the way.

Whether you're here seeking understanding, relatability, or just a story, I invite you to join us on our journey from zero to three kids. I love talking about this because I usually learn something by being asked to reflect on it.

In each phase, we've had to fundamentally rethink our roles—as parents, partners, friends, and colleagues. Every phase has required different adjustments. I’ve shared some of our experiences here. Have yours been similar? Different?

Comparing notes with other parents is really helpful to me, so if you’re so inclined - I’d love to hear what you think in the post comments or in the comments on Facebook.

Moving from Zero to One: Schedules Became Crucial

The biggest adjustment moving from no children to one child was schedules. Oh lord, was that hard. The entire rhythm of our day changed, becoming centered around the rhythms of our son.

This was so much more than “not sleeping.” How and when we socialized radically changed. How and when we had to get home from work also saw significant shifts. The pace with which we moved through the day became much slower because we were on “baby time.”

The personal adjustments I had to make were largely centered around work. I had to set boundaries around my work schedule because of drop-off duties. If I ran late, I would miss reading Robert a story and putting him to bed. I also realized that my needs were no longer the center of the universe.

In addition to our schedule's rhythm changing, it was a significant mental and emotional adjustment (read: ego check) to let go of the flexibility and decision-authority over my time. As someone who has been independent my whole life, I grieved the loss of freedom over my time and personal autonomy—even down to when I could use the bathroom.

One thing I'm glad we didn't compromise on was our passion for travel and adventure. Travel, especially to see or spend time with family, is non-negotiable for us. That was one aspect we didn’t adjust; we continued our daytime adventures. We even took a 10-month-old to Japan, which, looking back, seems audacious, but that was non-negotiable. It was something our son had to adapt to.

Moving from One to Two: No Slack in the System

When Robyn and I had one child, we could muscle through without having to change everything drastically. But with the arrival of our second child, there was no slack left in our system. There was no longer a quiet time; someone in our household was always awake or had a need. With a second child, the opportunities for quick naps or swiftly loading the dishwasher vanished, straining our family system. It's no surprise; systems without slack tend to be fragile.

Robyn and I found ourselves adjusting and transforming many of our individual and shared habits. We had to create and refine systems. Logistical systems came into play, including semi-automated grocery lists, whiteboard calendars, and chore wheels. We delved into Eve Rodsky’s system from her book Fair Play: A Game-Changing Solution for When You Have Too Much to Do (and More Life to Live) even adopting her flashcards. These tools and others made us more efficient and disciplined, ensuring we still had moments to recharge individually and as a couple.

Above all, we focused on managing conflicts. We prioritized our weekly temperature checks, revisited our five-year vision regularly, and committed to addressing issues head-on, turning towards each other, especially during misunderstandings. The crux of our adjustment was nurturing the courage to speak honestly and remain emotionally present, particularly when faced with hurt.

Moving from Two to Three: Navigating Dreams and Inner Demons Amidst Chaos

Parents often quip that introducing a third child means shifting defense from "man-to-man" to "zone." Suddenly, with three kids, Robyn and I were outnumbered. Our life was a whirlwind of chaos.

This phase was more about acceptance than change. Our vision of life underwent a transformation. Dreaming of a perpetually clean house? Unrealistic. Juggling a demanding job and being a hands-on parent? A choice had to be made. Aspirations for rapid career growth had to be balanced against family time. And the home projects I'd hoped to save on by DIY-ing? Either hire a professional or set them aside.

These dreams and life yardsticks had to align with our reality. Despite being well-off and having considerable family support, realizing we couldn't "have it all" was a pivotal moment. Accepting our third child meant reimagining our dreams. Our family had tangibly, unquestionably, and irreversibly became the cornerstone of our aspirations and future vision. This shift was profound, given the pressure I had placed on career goals, community involvement, and personal achievements.

However, this chaotic phase prompted major parenting adaptations. At least one of our children always seemed to be navigating a major transition or facing emotional challenges. With three kids, there's always a storm brewing. Such turbulence often brought out the worst in me, rather than my best. I fell back into negative behavior patterns and made numerous parenting missteps. Moments arose when I'd ponder, "Am I this guy? Am I going to accept being this guy?"

This chaos demanded introspection. My internal world underwent a shift, prompting me to confront deep-seated fears, angers, and skill gaps. We sought therapy, and became a Dr. Becky Good Inside family. And slowly, we began walking the long road to change.

How We Adjust

Naturally, my reflections often circle back to the theme of adjustments. Adjustments are vital, but the process is far from trivial. So, how do we make these shifts?

Firstly, a vision is paramount. How do you envision the future? Taking time to dream, both alone and with loved ones, is essential. We need direction, and clear picture of the ideal future; without it, there's no reference point for when change is needed. The moments Robyn and I have spent articulating our dreams have been some of the most rewarding in our marriage.

Secondly, for effective adjustment, clear priorities are paramount. We all harbor grand dreams and visions, but reality doesn’t always align. The world is filled with trade-offs, constraints, and unforeseen events. Time and resources are finite, so we can’t achieve everything we desire. To navigate these challenges, we must prioritize the dimensions of our dreams. It’s these priorities that serve as a compass, guiding which adjustments to make.

For instance, faced with the demands of parenting and career, which takes precedence? Robyn and I chose to adjust our career paths to be more present for our children. While this wasn’t our initial plan, our priority of being active parents necessitated this change. Such decisions, pivotal in shaping our lives, are rooted in understanding our core priorities.

Lastly, genuine listening complements our prioritization. To assess whether we need to make adjustments we need accurate feedback. Are we veering in the wrong direction? We need information to know whether an adjustment is urgent. That information might be explicit like a bank statement or cholesterol panel, or it could be through observation of our kids’ feelings and behavior, or even information gleaned from personal reflection and discernment.

Adjusting is an art form and is ongoing, evolving with each phase of life. I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether you're a new parent or have had a decade's worth of experience. I'm sure each of you has your unique tales, moments of revelation, and personal strategies that you've leaned on. Whether you're just starting your family or have been on this journey for a while, I'd love to hear from you.

Discussion Points:

1. Journey Reflection: If you have children, what were the most significant adjustments you made with each addition?

2. Learning Moments: Were there any unexpected lessons you learned along the way?

3. Balancing Acts: How have you balanced your personal dreams and aspirations with the needs of your growing family?

Feel free to share in the comments below or reach out on Facebook. Let's continue the conversation and learn from each other's experiences.

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Key Takeaways:

• Moving from Zero to One: Adjusting to the rhythm of your child is paramount. Personal sacrifices, especially around time and autonomy, are inevitable.

• Moving from One to Two: Systems and routines become critical. External tools and relationship checks (like Fair Play) can be invaluable.

• Moving from Two to Three: Embracing chaos and re-evaluating personal dreams and professional aspirations are essential. Prioritizing family becomes a central theme.

Photo by Julian Hochgesang on Unsplash

The Ball, The Boys, and Me: A Journey Back to Playfulness

Something happened to me, slowly, over years. I stopped being fun.

I was never close to being muppet-level fun, or even sitcom-level fun, but I was at least average. But this weekend, I finally realized how far I’ve fallen, and how much of a stiff I’ve become.

This realization, poetically, all started with a ball.

It’s as if it was magnetic. Within minutes of showing up at the park, a first or second grader approached Robert after noticing the ball at his feet.

“Hey, you wanna play soccer?”

And then, our Kindergartner began shedding his armor of quiet and shyness. His confidence and voice gradually returned, his personality emerging from behind his protective shield.

And for the next 40 minutes, he had a buddy. Sure, Bo came back and forth to the safety of outstretched hand. Mostly, though, he didn’t need me. The ball helped him transform - from being a little boy hurt by words and elbows on the playground, into just a little boy, running and smiling.

That’s the magic of the ball.

The magical, magnetic ball is his life preserver when he’s lost in a new place. The magic ball does the heavy work, bringing others into his world, when he’s too afraid to invite them in. The ball gives him a focus point, an entry point into friendship and being part of a group.

The magic of the ball, any ball, is that when a ball arrives, play follows. The ball is a vessel, the conduit, for the magic of play.

Play is liberation. It lets us run, skip, express, create, and be. Play is fun. It brings joy, relief, refuge, and laughter. Play is medicine. It helps us bond, repair relationships, recharge, and heal.

I also need this magic.

Bo already manifests my two biggest neuroses: the need to be perfect and the need to be affirmed by other people’s praise. I transmuted these shackles onto him because of something I’m role modeling - he’s too young to have just inherited these behaviors from the culture.

I’m not even trying to be, and I’m so damn serious all the time. I focus, plan, and do dishes in an almost militant manner. Do I ever have fun and play around? If I do, it’s when my sons are already asleep.

But how do I even play? How do I take a status meeting and make it feel a little more like play? How do I take the chore of washing dishes and make it into a game? Somewhere along the way, I became a robot that does tasks and managed a scheduled instead of a person who plays around.

How could I have let this happen? To be sure, I consider myself a lucky man. My life has a lot of comfort, joy, meaning, and love. But what happened to fun? Somehow, fun is something I used to be. Play is something I used to do.

I don’t want to live like this. How did we let ourselves live like this? When did it happen? How do I get out of these chains of drudgery and seriousness?

One answer, it seems, is right in front of me. I have to be more like them. I have three sons, and they play all the time. For some part of the day, I need to put my serious face away and just mimic them. I need them to be my role models, instead of me trying to be theirs.

They are the vessel; they are my conduit. They, my sons, are my magic ball. Through them, I can find the part of me that is fun again. They, if I let them, can be the liberators of the bondage of seriousness I didn’t even know I had.

Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash

When shit isn’t working: Mountains vs. Plateaus

Sometimes, shit just isn’t working. We’ve all had slumps where we feel like this.

It could be on a project at work, as a parent, in marriage, when solving a social problem, or when working on a creative project.

The first lesson that most of us learn is what they say about insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is insanity. So most of us learn not to be insane.

When shit just isn’t working, step one is to do something different. Most of us generally know this, even if we don’t act upon it right away.

But there’s a subtlety that matters, when shit just isn’t working. What we have to assess is whether we’re fundamentally on a mountain or a plateau, because how you conquer a mountain and a plateau is fundamentally different.

Mountains vs. Plateaus

The problem with mountains is that they are big and steep. But what’s great about mountains is that there’s no way to go but up. Mountain problems are an incremental challenge.

So to get over a mountain, what you do differently is just lean in harder. You spend more time, spend more money, or throw people at the problem. Basically, if shit isn’t working and you’re on a mountain - we just have to put one foot in front of the other, and just climb harder and climb higher. Eventually, you know you’re going to get to the top, you just have to add effort and survive the climb.

Cleaning a dirty house before a party is a mountain problem - you just hunker down, and ask a friend to help you if it needs to happen faster.

The problem with plateaus is that they are flat. Which means running harder doesn’t get you anywhere - you’re stuck on the plateau at the same flat elevation with nowhere else to go, no matter how fast or hard you run.

The even bigger problem with plateaus is that the only way off is to jump off of it.

If the situation you’re in is being stuck on a plateau, you have to rock the boat and do something radical. Plateau problems require a phase shift to get unstuck.

Reducing my mile splits and body fat % in advance of a half marathon has been a plateau problem.

After a few weeks of training, running longer distances once a week wasn’t getting me in better shape. I wasn’t getting strong enough to be durable for long distances nor were my splits getting any faster.

Instead, I had to jump off a cliff and try an entirely new training method: interval speed runs.

Interval speed runs are where you run at a faster pace for a short burst, and then have a short rest. A speed run might end up being the same time and distance as a regular training run, but running short intervals fast, is fundamentally different on the body than a distance run at a moderate pace.

Once I jumped, and tried something entirely new (interval speed runs) - my half marathon training started popping. My legs got noticeably more durable, and my muscle mass started rising while my mile splits started falling. It was nuts how big of a difference it made.

We need to assess where we are

When shit isn’t working, the right answer isn’t always turnkey. Before acting, we have to determine whether we’re on a mountain requiring more of the same, or, if we’re on a plateau that requires a radical phase shift.

As people who take responsibility for making things better, it’s critical to pause. If we don’t get a lay of the land, we might not ever get things working again.

So, the next time you find yourself stuck, take a step back and ask: Is this a mountain to climb or a plateau to leap from? Your answer might just be the breakthrough you need.

Photo Credit: Morgan Alicia on Unsplash

The Dynamic Leader: Parenting Lessons for Growing a Team

In both life and work, change isn't just inevitable; it is a vital metric for assessing growth. My experiences as a parent have led me to a deeper understanding of this concept, offering insights that are readily applicable in a leadership role.

Children Grow Unapologetically

As a parent, it’s now obvious to me that children are constantly evolving, forging paths into the unknown with a defiance that seems to fuel their growth. Despite a parent’s natural instinct to shield them, children have a way of pushing boundaries, a clear indicator that change is underway. This undying curiosity and defiance not only foster growth but necessitate a constant evolution in parenting styles.

Today, my youngest is venturing into the world as a wobbly walker, necessitating a shift in my approach to offer more freedom and encouragement, but with a ready stance to help our toddler the most dangerous falls. Meanwhile, my older sons are becoming more socially independent, which requires me to step back and allow them to resolve their disputes over toys themselves. It's evident; as they grow, my parenting style needs to adapt, setting a cycle of growth and adaptation in motion.

The Echo in Leadership

In reflecting on this, I couldn't help but notice the clear parallel to leadership in a corporate setting. A leader's adaptability to the changing dynamics of the team and the operating environment is critical in fostering a team's growth. If a leadership style remains static, it likely signals a team stuck on a plateau, not achieving its potential.

A stagnant leadership style not only hampers growth but fails the team. It is thus imperative for us as leaders to continually reassess and tweak their approach to leadership, ensuring alignment with the team's developmental stage and the broader organizational context.

This brings me to a critical question: how often should a leader change their style? While a high frequency of change can create instability, a leadership style untouched for years is a recipe for failure. A quarterly review strikes a reasonable balance, encouraging regular adjustments to foster growth without plunging the team into a state of constant flux.

Conclusion: The Dynamic Dimension of Leadership

In the evolving landscapes of parenting and leadership alike, adaptability emerges not just as a virtue but as a vital gauge of growth and effectiveness. Thanks to my kids, I was able to internalize this pivotal point of view: understanding the dynamic or static nature of one's approach is central to assessing leadership prowess.

For leaders eager to foster growth, the practice of self-assessment can be straightforward and significantly revealing. It is as simple as taking a moment during your team's quarterly goal reviews to ask, "How has the team grown this quarter?" and "How should my leadership style evolve to support our growth in the upcoming period?"

By making this practice a routine, we can ensure that our leadership styles remain dynamic, evolving hand in hand with our teams' developmental trajectories, promoting sustained growth and productivity.

Photo by Julián Amé on Unsplash

From Standing Ovations to Silent Smiles: How My Daydreams Changed

What I visualize has changed over the years, and I can’t figure out why.

When I was younger, I always used to visualize myself being applauded.

In those days, I regularly imagined myself being sworn in as a U.S. Senator, or perhaps being elevated to CEO of a publicly traded company. Sometimes, I wouldn’t even just imagine myself giving a TED talk, I imagined myself watching a video of myself giving a TED talk.

This is objectively vain and narcissistic stuff. These delusions fueled my motivation and ambition. I craved moments of being “awesome” or being “ the guy” and that’s a large part of why I worked hard and tried to achieve success in my education and professional life.

Somewhere along the way that changed.

To be clear, I still have moments where I imagine myself winning something, succeeding, or receiving some sort of promotion. But it’s not only that anymore. Sometimes, now, I visualize others experiencing joy.

Sometimes, for example, I imagine Robyn and I being older and we’re making pizza and chocolate chip cookies with our giggling grandchildren. Or maybe we’re holding hands at church, seeing families of five hugging each other in the pew in front of us, and we feel remember our own joy because we see theirs.

Other times, I imagine our adult sons, joking and laughing with each other, while we’re all having a beer around a campfire. Sometimes, I imagine a time when the world is kinder and more verdant, and I am walking through the park, breathing clean air and passing by birthday parties with loads of youngsters singing and eating cake. They are all strangers and I don’t talk to them, I just notice their glee and I am smiling as I stroll past.

Sometimes, too, I imagine some of the former gang members I met at community meetings dropping their kids off at school or cooking a Friday night dinner, being attentive and loving fathers. Sometimes, I imagine some of the people who buy La-Z-Boy furniture just sitting, and catching their breath in moments of ease.

Again, I’m still self-centered, I’m just not solely that anymore. Now, I imagine others’ joyous moments sometimes too.

The problem is, I don’t know what caused this change to happen.

Was it gratitude journaling or prayer? Was it marriage and kids? Was it losing my father? Was it travel to places, like India, where I witnessed slums with unimaginable poverty? Was it just something that happened because I lived more life? What was it that caused my visualizations to change?

This post doesn’t have a solution, only a question for those of y’all who made it this far. Has this change in perspective happened to you? What do you think did it?

It’s something that I would love to understand enough to recreate on purpose. If I can pinpoint what sparked this shift in me, perhaps we all can learn to intentionally foster a more outwardly compassionate perspective.

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

We should honor all children

I never thought brushing my teeth in a campground bathroom would lead to a perspective-shifting conversation about how we view children. But there I was, face-to-face with a jovial stranger hearing a profound message.

I met this stranger while brushing my teeth this weekend, in the Cades Cove Campground bathroom at Great Smokey Mountain National Park. People camping at National Parks are generally friendly, probably because choosing to sleep outside where your main recreation is strenuously walking, without creature comforts like showers or a fully-functioning kitchen takes someone with a unique kind of frustration tolerance. That frustration tolerance is probably part of the reason why camping people are willing to take the risk of talking candidly with people they’ve never met.

I thought my new friend was probably German given his accent and shoulder length blonde hair. Turns out, he was.

He and his wife turned out to be our nearest campsite neighbor and they were both recently retired from their careers in Hamburg, Germany. When we left the park today we got to actually talking, as we offered our extra firewood to them just before we departed in hopes they’d get some use out of it.

Even though I had met him, literally while brushing teeth at 9:30pm at night only 36 hours earlier, our conversation turned to parenting.

He was a young grandparent and he commented on how he was grateful that the German system made deliberate choices to support children and tried to make parenting an attractive proposition. He added how hard it was, even in the German system, for his son and daughter-in-law to tend to their young son, and balance the demands of parenting with that of their jobs. It was so confusing, he thought, that in America we would undermine children, parents, and families by not even allowing simple supports like parental leave.

I agreed with him, but so far what he said was relatively unsurprising. After all, it’s no surprise that parenting today is extremely tough and it’s no secret that our level of support in America for children, parents, and families is something to be laughed at and not lauded, especially in comparison to other developed nations.

But then, he said something that really pushed the conversation beyond polite talking points:

“We should honor our children. They are our future.”

That word, honor, is fundamentally different than how we usually talk about children in America.

We talk about “taking care” of children or “giving opportunities” to children. We don’t take the posture of honoring children.

To honor children is a fundamentally different conception of the role of children in society. When comparing the words, taking care and giving opportunities feels so transactional whereas honoring children elevates their societal standing and implies that we owe them a debt of reverence or gratitude.

Honestly, we probably do. We shouldn’t think about children as people to take care of or give opportunities to. We should think about children as people to honor.

Today, I was thinking a lot about what my new friend said. Especially because our oldest son starts Kindergarten this week. My role as a father is changing in a hurry and I’ve been thinking about what it will mean, not just to be a father to my sons, but what it will mean to be a father in a school community.

Upon reflection, the idea of honoring children is most interesting to me because of how inclusive it feels.

My friend from Hamburg implied that he was talking about honoring all children. I could tell he loves his own children and believes they are special - I saw the spark in him that dads get when they talk about their kids…the same one I do.

But he was thinking beyond his own kids. I could tell that he believed that all children deserved parents who could spend time with them. He believed that all children should live in a safe and loving community. He believed that all children should be able to learn and grow. He believed that we should honor all children in our community, not just our own children.

And what would it mean, I thought, if I tried to honor all children?

It would be paying extra into the pot to subsidize child care, even after my kids are grown. It would mean being supportive of anyone I work with and helping them manage their workload so they can be parents and caregivers. It would mean loving my own kids dearly, but also being loving, honest, and nurturing of all children - whether that’s as a member of our school’s Dads’ Club, or a soccer coach, or a volunteer writing tutor, or summer party host in our backyard. It would mean paying attention to the neighborhood kids on the block and being a watchful eye for their safety and to step in if their shenanigans surpass what I know their parents would tolerate.

This will be such a hard believe to actually walk the walk on, I know already.

On the one hand, I love my kids so dearly. They matter so much to me. They are special kids, because they are my kids. These three are my sons. They need me to love them so much, and to put them ahead of others. I know that as their father, it’s my job to love and sacrifice for them. If I don’t put them first, who will?

And yet, it’s true that all children, collectively, are indeed our future.

All our children will take care of us in old age. And they will inherit the world we leave. And for goodness sake, we’re talking about children - doing the best we can is just the right thing to do instinctively. That’s all obvious.

But beyond that, all our children are my childrens’ future, too.

All our children will be inter-connected in the future. Your kids will go to college with my kids someday. Your kids will be lifelong friends with my kids someday. Our kids will go to bars and to basketball games down at the arena someday, and even if they don’t know each other, they’ll be in the same room, over and over, without even knowing it. They will share the same roads, the same airports, the same parks, and the same grocery stories. They will be colleagues and business partners someday.

At the end of the day, all y’all’s kids will affect mine and mine will affect yours.

It’s the right thing to do to honor all children, but if I really get down to it it’s in my selfish interest too. If my kids are going to be intertwined and inter-dependent with your kids, it is stupid not to make sure all kids are healthy, happy, and loved. I don’t want my kids to be stuck living in a world full of broken adults, and neither do you. Nobody does.

And yet, I know it will be so tempting to me when the choice arises to give my kid every advantage and opportunity even if it screws over someone else’s kid. But I need to think twice about that. The long-term future we all want is a world where all kids are honored, and that means I need to contribute to that dream by honoring all children instead of free-riding on everyone else’s grace and generosity.

This will be hard, and that’s the part of the reason why I’m writing about this publicly. Now it’s possible to shame me if I make choices that are nakedly self-interested toward my kids’ benefit at the cost of yours. That’s pressure and risk I’m willing to bear. If our political system and public policy are going to create a framework and incentive structure that encourages me to advocate for my children even if it means screwing yours over, I need every possible support I can to buck the trend.

Because, damn, what a world it would be if we could get to a place of honoring all children rather than than just loving, supporting, and nurturing our own. It would probably lead all children to be better off, including our own. If all kids rise, so will mine.

It’s astounding to me that a major belief of mine - on the role of children in society - has been so disproportionally influenced by a stranger I talked to for a total of 15 minutes, over the course of 36 hours because we were neighbors at a National Park.

And yet here I am, putting this out into the world, with a full heart: we should not just take care of or give opportunities to our own children, we should honor all children.

If you’re a parent, or even just around kids a lot, I think you should dig deep on this one. I’d ask you to look within and really decide - is it your own children that you’re solely focused on, or do you also believe that we should aspire to honor all children?

Photo by note thanun on Unsplash

It is what it isn’t: surfacing struggles as a key leadership responsibility

When we all use phrases like “it is what it is” or “I’m just tired” - portraying that we’re doing fine while masking our struggle.

And honestly, that actually seems rational. Talking about struggles is really hard! And most of the time, we don’t know if the person we’re talking to actually cares or is just interested in making small talk.

And so we use a phrase like, “it is what it is” and move on.

In our culture, we have lots of phrases like these, which have a double meaning - where we’re trying to suggest that we’re doing fine enough but are actually feeling the weight of something difficult.

But just because it’s rational, doesn’t mean we should use phrases like these and just move on - letting the struggle remain hidden.

And if we’re taking the responsibility to lead, whether at work or at home, surfacing and resolving struggles is part of our responsibility as leaders.

The difficult question is how. That’s what I’ve been reflecting on and what this post is about: how do we surface and help resolve struggles when it’s rational to mask them?

Surfacing Struggles

Luckily, we often use consistent turns of phrases when we are surfacing struggles. If we listen for those tells, we have a chance to double down when we hear them and try to learn more.

I asked a question on facebook this week to try generating a list of these phrases which create a subtle and believable facade. Thank you to anyone who shared their two cents, these were the examples folks shared:

• “Living the dream.”

• “I’m fine.”

• “It’s going.”

• “I am okay.”

• “I’m hanging in there.”

• “That’s life.”

• “I’m here.”

• “Another day in paradise.”

• “Eff it.” (Used causally)

If we hear someone use phrases like these (or we say them ourselves) we can use it as a trigger to pause and explore, rather than as a cue to move on.

Surfacing Struggles With Kids

Kids are less obfuscating with their struggles, they come right out and share their little hearts out. They just struggle with being specific about their woes when then say or do stuff like:

• “I can’t do this!”

• “I’ll never figure this out!”

• “This is too hard!”

• [Screams and foot stomps]!

• [Pterodactyl noises with hands over ears]!

• “Poo-poo, poo-poo, POO-POO!”

• “I forgot how to walk!” (My personal favorite from our kids)

With kids, these can be cues to pause, gather our patience and saddle up to emotional coach through some big feelings.

Surfacing Struggles At Work

At work, we’re more opaque, deftly deflecting and misdirecting with our words to make our inner struggles seem like obstacles outside our control. How often have you heard phrases like this?:

• “We don’t have the resources.”

• “We’re too busy.”

• “It’s not our job.”

• “We’ll just CYA and keep it moving.”

• “We need to run this by the executive team first.” (or replace executive team with “legal”, “audit”, or “HR”)

• “We’re breaking the guidelines set out in [insert name of esoteric poorly defined policy that’s only tangentially related to the issue at hand].”

At work, it’s so easy to take these phrases at face value and assume that there’s nothing to explore. But there usually is.

Once I started listening for them, I found that these phrases of deflection came up at home and at work, all the time.

Resolving Struggles

When others use subtle but believable facades to avoid or deflect from their struggles, the key is to decipher what they would actually be saying if they felt like they could be honest and vulnerable.

If we can figure that out, we can meet the person in front of us (or ourselves in the mirror) where they are, understand their true needs, and then help them deal with their struggles.

When someone uses a subtle but believable deflection, they usually, deep down, mean something like this:

• “I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much happening and I can’t even figure out where to start.”

• “I’m scared. Things are not going well and I don’t know whether the future will be better.”

• “I don’t trust you. I need you to give me reasons to put my faith in you.”

• “I’m stuck. I’ve been trying to make this better but nothing seems to make a difference. I need help.”

• “I feel alone. I don’t feel the support of other people on this very difficult thing we’re going through.”

• “I don’t believe in myself. I need convincing that you won’t let me fail.”

• “I don’t care. To keep going, I need to feel like what we’re doing actually matters.”

• “I don’t trust our group. I’ve been let down before and I don’t want to be hurt again.”

• “I’m confused. I don’t know what to do or what’s expected of me.”

• “I’m ashamed. I need to feel included and that my behaviors don’t make my worth conditional.”

• “I feel guilty. I need encouragement and guidance that I can do better.”

• “I feel like I’m in danger. I need you to help me feel safe.”

If we discover the real root feeling or struggle, the posture we need to take is relatively straightforward. It’s rarely an easy struggle, but if we know what the person in front of us is actually dealing with, we actually have a chance to be helpful to them. If we don’t understand, we definitely won’t be helpful, even if we’re well-intentioned and try really hard.

Practical Skills Matter: Listening, Integrity, Compassion

The practical lesson that I’ve learned is twofold.

First, we need to listen very carefully for these very subtle deflections and instead of being fooled by them, we need to sharpen our focus. We need to pause and graciously lean in. These deflections are really tells that the person in front of us, or ourselves if we say them out loud, are actually struggling.

Second, we need to find a way to hear precisely what the person in front of us is having a hard time saying. That can happen in one of two ways. We either have to listen and observe very carefully, or, we need to show integrity and compassion so unflinchingly and consistently that the person in front of us feels safe enough to tell the truth.

Conclusions

Beyond the practical tools around how to surface and resolve struggles, there’s a broader point that’s important to make: we have a choice to make.

On the one hand, one could completely reject my point of view. Someone could say, “I’m not responsible for helping every person in front of me with every single one of their struggles. They need to suck it up, they need to figure some of this out on their own. They need to take responsibility for their own struggles, that’s not fully on me.”

Maybe that’s true, at least to some degree. In my life, I’ve found it impossible to help someone who’s not enrolled in the journey of finding a better way. And, it’s also true that we have practical limits. We as individuals can’t possibly do this all ourselves - there’s not enough time or energy available to us to take every struggle of the people we care about onto our shoulders alone.

But at the same time, I believe we need to try because we owe it to each other. We have all struggled. We have all needed someone to help us surface and resolve our struggles. We all have been helped, by someone, at some time. Nobody in this world has done it alone.

And if we want to move forward - whether it’s with our kids at home or with our colleagues at work - someone has to be responsible for it.

So when someone in our orbit next says something like, “it is what it is” or “I’m just tired” I hope we all choose to say something like, “oh really, what do you mean?” Instead of letting the conversation pass as if nothing happened.

That’s the choice we have ahead of us. Let’s choose to listen deeply.

Photo by Christina Spiliotopoulou on Unsplash

My Dream: Bringing CX to State and Local Government

My number one mission for my professional life is to help government organizations become high performing. If every government were high performing, I think it would change the trajectory of human history for the better in a big way.

One way to do that is to bring customer experience (CX) principles pioneered in the private sector and some forward thinking places (like the US Federal Government, the UK Government, or the Government of Estonia) and bring them to State and Local Government.

It is my dream to create CX capabilities in City and State Government in Michigan and have our state be a model for how CX can work at the State and Local level across the country.

Dreams don’t come true unless you talk about them. So I’m talking about it.

If you have the same mission or the same dream, I want to meet you. If you have friends or colleagues who have similar missions or dream, I want to meet them too. We who care about high performing, citizen-centric government want to make this happen. I want to play the role that I can play to bring CX to State and Local Government and I want to help you on your journey. Full stop.

I have so much more to say about what this could be, but I had to start somewhere. I had ChatGPT help me take some thoughts in my head and convert them into a Team Charter and a Job Description for the head of that team.

What do you think? Have you seen this? What would work? What’s missing? Maybe we can make something happen together, which is exactly why I’m putting a tiny morsel of this idea out there for those who care to react to.

The country and world are already moving to more responsive, networked, citizen-centric models of how government can work. Let’s hasten that transformation by bringing CX principles to the work our City and State Governments do every day.

I can’t wait to hear from you.

-Neil

—

Team Charter for Customer Experience (CX) Improvement in City or State Government

Purpose (Why?)

To transform and enhance the quality of government services and citizens’ daily life through CX methodologies. High impact domains include touchpoints with significant impact for the citizens who are engaged (e.g., support for impoverished families obtaining benefits) and those touchpoints affecting all citizens (e.g., tax payments, vehicular transportation), and touchpoints with high community interest.

Objectives (What Result Are We Trying to Create?)

• Increase citizen satisfaction

• Strengthen trust in government

• Elevate the quality of life for residents, visitors, and businesses

Scope (What?)

This initiative will focus on the top 5-7 stakeholders personas driving the most value to start:

• Improve how citizens experience government services, daily life, and vital community aspects

• Drive change cross-functionally and at scale across interaction channels

• Foster tangible improvements in the quality of life

• Create and align KPIs with community priorities and establish ways to measure and communicate success

Activities (How?)

• Segment residents, visitors, businesses, and identify top personas and touchpoints

• Develop customer personas, journey maps, and choose highest-value problem areas to focus on for each persona

• Prioritize and create an improvement roadmap

• Partner with various stakeholders to drive change

• Measure results, gather feedback, and align with community priorities

• Share progress regularly and communicate value to stakeholders to gain momentum and support

Team and Key Stakeholders (Who?)

• Leadership: A head with experience in leadership, CX methods, data, technology, innovation, and intrapreneurship

• Department Liaisons: Individuals driving CX within different governmental departments

• External Partners: Collaboration with other government agencies, citizen groups, foundations, the business community, and vendors

• Core Team: A mix of professionals with expertise in relationship management, digital, innovation, leadership, and related fields

Timeline and Next Steps (When?)

• 0-6 Months: Segmentation, personas, and journey mapping

• 6-12 Months: Problem analysis and a prioritized roadmap creation

• 9-18 Months: Tangible improvements and iterative changes in focus areas

• Ongoing: Continual refinement and adaptation to changing needs and priorities

—

Job Description: CX Improvement Team Leader

Position Overview:

As the CX Improvement Team Leader for City or State Government, you will drive transformative change to enhance citizens’ experience with government services and improve quality of life for citizens in this community. You will guide a cross-functional team to create innovative solutions, aligning with community priorities and creating tangible improvements in quality of life.

Responsibilities:

• Lead and inspire a diverse team to achieve objectives

• Create and align KPIs, establish methods for measurement

• Develop and execute an improvement roadmap

• Engage with stakeholders across government agencies, citizen groups, businesses, and more

• Regularly share progress and communicate the value of initiatives to gain momentum and support

• Collaborate with external partners and vendors as needed

• Foster an innovative and responsive culture within the team

Qualifications:

• Minimum of 10 years of experience in customer experience, leadership, technology, innovation, or related fields

• Proven ability to drive change at scale across various channels

• Strong communication and relationship management skills

• Experience in government, public policy, or community engagement is preferred

• A visionary leader with a passion for improving lives and a commitment to public service

Photo by NordWood Themes on Unsplash

A practitioner’s take on goals and dreams

There is a time and a place for SMART goals.

Like when we want or have to achieve something that’s specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and timely. (See what I did there?)

Put another way, sometimes we need to outline a goal like this: “I will publish my book in 2023, and have 1000 people download or purchase it within 6 months of publication.”

But there are times when SMART goals are precisely the wrong approach to take.

Sometimes we have to dream. And a good dream is probably the inverse of a SMART goal: A audacious, unorthodox, and slow to achieve.

Put another way, sometimes we need to put a dream out there, something like: “I dream about a day when America is a more trusting place, probably because our government is innovative and citizen centric, we have skilled leaders on every block, and our culture becomes one where everyone reflects on their own actions and is committed to developing their own character.”

Here’s what I’ve learned about both, as a real person, living a real life, trying to achieve goals and dreams for real:

First, dreams are a paradox. The most visionary dream feel too crazy to talk about - and so we often don’t talk about them. At the same time, the surest way to never achieve a dream is to keep it a secret. The only way our dreams become a reality is if we talk about them even when it feels awkward.

Second, it’s really important to know whether the situation at hand requires a goal or a dream. If the situation is well understood and we need to “get it done”…goals all day.

But if we’re trying to imagine a better future, and contemplate a new way of being, dreams are the only way.

Third, both goals and dreams are worthless if they are not specific. If the finish line is blurry, collective action grinds to a halt, especially when there’s no hierarchy to scare people into action.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, both dreams and goals require an action which deviates from the status quo. That’s why we dream and set goals in the first place, we want something to be different.

A good question is: “Do my goals and dreams require me to act differently? If so, how? If not, how do I get better goals and dreams?”

That’s there’s the unlock.

Photo by Estee Janssens on Unsplash.

I promise to not be a superhero

As a father, I am angry about something almost every day.

To be clear, I don’t like being angry. For me, constantly being angry is the hardest part of being a parent, even harder than changing diapers or staying up all night with a sick child.

Sometimes I feel angry because of something one of my sons did, say, punching me in the stomach while having a tantrum. In that case, I am angry at them and their behavior.

What I’ve realized, though, is that I am not usually angry at them as much as I think. The aftermath of a series of sibling “incidents” this weekend was a good example of this.

I realized I was angry because I’m feeling inadequate as a father right now. One of our sons is going through something painful - he wouldn’t deliberately abuse his younger brother if he wasn’t in some deep emotional spiral - and I haven’t been able to help him. He’s a good kid who needs the care of a father, and I’m failing.

It makes me angry that he throws Hot Wheel cars at his brother without provocation, sure. But I’m not angry at him, as much as being angry at myself.

I’m angry that he’s going through genuine suffering about something. I’m angry that I don’t know what it is. I’m angry that I can’t help him. I’m angry that Robyn has exhausting days at home intervening to mitigate the effects of volatile behavior, on top of her heavy work schedule.

I’m not angry at him, I’m angry at myself for letting the side down.

This seems obvious, but it has been a revelation. Practically speaking, it’s a much different parenting strategy if I’m angry at him vs. if I’m angry at myself. If I’m angry at my son, that’s a negotiation and a coaching moment. But if I’m angry at myself, I have to focus on getting my own emotional state stable.

After all, how could I help him if I’m not even sturdy? It’s the airplane principle applied to parenting: if I want my son to be calm, so he can realize it’s not kind to spit on my shirt, I have to be calm enough to help him chill out.

This weekend, while reflecting on this, my long-running feelings of guilt, inadequacy, and shame finally surfaced. When my oldest asked me, “will you love me after you die?” Is when I finally lost it.

I love these kids so much, I thought, how can I fail them so badly? How am I struggling so much, even after learning valuable skills in theraphy last year, like “special time” and emotional coaching?

He deserves better.

And yet, I know my self-flagellation is ultimately hypocritical. I’m so particular about telling my sons that, “mistakes are part of the plan, all we need to do is learn from them.” And yet, I have been reluctant to take my own advice, for months now.

I am not a perfect man. I am not a perfect husband or father. My family does suffer, on my watch. The world tells me that this is not what good men and good fathers let happen. Failing at what I care about most - being a husband and father - makes me angry, and honestly, ashamed.

And yet, we cannot allow ourselves to go down this road as fathers or as parents. We cannot be angry at ourselves for not being gods or ashamed that we aren’t superheroes. To do so would be the definition of futile and irrational, because we are not gods nor are we superheros. It is simply not possible.

What we can do is adjust. We can choose to stop being angry at ourselves. And then we can choose to examine ourselves and really listen to the kid in front of us. And honestly, I think an act of adjustment can be as simple: take a pause, do some box breathing, and then ask, “is there something that you’re having a hard time saying?”

Because even though our kids don’t come with a handbook, they, luckily, are the handbook. And then, finally, we can change our posture and try something different.

We can let all that anger, guilt, and shame go so that we can stop making ourselves into crazy people. And then, we can use the energy and clarity we’ve gained to do better.

Let’s say it together, my brothers, today and every day, “I promise not to be a superhero, but a father who listens, who learns, and who loves, even in the midst of my anger.”

Photo by Lance Reis on Unsplash

Braving new worlds: the astronaut in all of us

There are four versions of the world. They exist for everyone and we all move between them.

The first world is my world. The world inside my head, my inner world of thoughts and fears. What I’ve learned about this world is that I can make it a peaceful and verdant place. It doesn’t have to be a MadMax sort of rugged and dystopian Outback. I can make my inner world a pleasant and nurturing place instead of a scary place if I turn my inner critic into a coach.

The second world is the world of others. I have to inhabit someone else’s world to love and understand them. And I have to inhabit their world for someone to feel loved and feel understood. What makes this hard is that everyone else’s world is different, which makes getting there hard. It’s truly like being on a different planet. I feel this acutely with my children, in their worlds of cooking tomato pancakes or caning on pirate ships in our family room.

What I’ve learned about this world is that I will never ever spend too much time here. I will always spend less time than I need to in the worlds of others. If something feels tense, heated, or frustrating, there’s one obvious strategy every single time: walk around with them, in their world. Just be there for a little while before trying anything else. Doing this is never a waste of time.

The third world is the real world. The three dimensions in front of our face where our entire lives happen. Every hug and kiss, every swing of a tennis racket, every birthday cake, every wedding vow. Every misunderstanding and every karaoke night happens here. Every family dinner and scientific discovery - it all happens here. Whether or not we’re mentally there, our life, shared with everyone else, happens in the real world.

I’ve learned two things about this real world. One, things like meditation, prayer, and yoga - that help us to focus in the moment - are so important that it is difficult to overrate them. Anything we can do so help us stay in the moment is priceless.

Two, I’ve learned that it’s important to be honest instead of delusional. We can choose to accept the world as it is, or we can lie to about what’s real. We can see what we want to see, but then our reality is distorted. Distortion, I’ve found, is like drinking: the longer you let it ride, the worse the hangover.

We all travel from world to strange, new, world, and it honestly feels as significant as the spacefarers in movies like Star Trek or Star Wars. We are all astronauts in this way. It’s hard and scary.

And as I’ve penned this post, it just makes me remember how important it is to have grace. Grace for others as they trip up and fumble their way from their world into ours, and grace for ourselves as we try, feebly, to do the same. There’s nothing trivial about this travel from world to world. To be an astronaut in this life is significant and heroic.

But alas, there is still the fourth and final world. It is the world of our dreams - the sacred place. The world of dreams is the hardest to reach, requiring hope, vision, and optimism to find. The portal to the world of dreams is like the 9-and-three-quarters platform - only the indoctrinated can see it and it feels like something from a magical world. Because to dream is to imagine and to imagine is to contemplate something that has never been. To dream about the world that ought to be is to be an explorer in everyday life: dreaming is the act of charting something in our mind’s eye, that no other astronaut has ever seen.

I learned my most important lesson about dreaming from Chief Craig and the leaders I worked for at the Detroit Police Department: we have to talk about our dreams.

For the dream to come true, what I see in my minds eye, you have to see in yours. Without doing this we cannot work toward the same dream.

To be sure, this is uncommonly hard. In our stressed out world, finding the wherewithal to dream on our own is hard. Guiding someone else to meet you there, in that holy plane, is even harder.

So if the universe or our creator blessed us enough to get to the plane of dreams, why would we do anything but dream the biggest, simplest dream we could? To dream big and simple is the most rational choice one can make.

All this inspires me. That we all traverse and inhabit these different worlds inspires. That we all have something in us that allows us to think beyond our own world inspires me. That we are all astronauts, inspires me.

We just have to find the astronaut within, and explore the have the courage to explore these new worlds.

“Dawg, I can’t afford this anymore.”

These problems matter a lot to me:

• How do I be a good guy in a stressful world?

• How do I do my part to build a marriage of mutual respect, even though I have selfish tendencies?

• How do I show unconditional love and patience as a father, even though my kids need a LOT from me?

• How do I bend society to be a more trusting place - even though I’m just one person?

• How do I make the organizations and communities I’m a part of places where there’s a virtuous cycle of growth and development - even though I’m just one person?

• How do I bend society to have fewer people die by homicide or suicide - even though I’m just one person?

This problem has caused me the most agony in my adult life:

• How do I get powerful, influential people to tell me I’m awesome?

Honestly, I was ashamed of being vain and narcissistic enough to need others to tell me I’m awesome. For a long time, I deluded myself into believing that my ambition was wholly for the benefit of my family’s standard of living or the advancement of society.

Honestly, it wasn’t.

I know I shouldn’t be too hard on myself for being vain and narcissistic - I am human. But damn, over the course of my life, this problem has been so expensive. I was probably spending 20-30% of my emotion budget worrying about whether powerful people thought I was awesome.

That’s so expensive. That’s so much of my energy and emotion budget stolen away from more important problems. I just can’t afford that.

I’ve been struggling with this for at least a decade. Then, over the course of a few hours, I listened to a book during a long car ride that presented the question properly. Then, a decade’s worth of change happened in an afternoon.

The book I listened to was The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, and if you burn energy on unaffordable problems, I’d highly recommend it.

We can choose which problems in our life we give a lot of effort to. Once we have an honest catalog of what we’re spending our emotion budget on, it becomes much easier to say, “dawg, I can’t afford this anymore.”