Backyard Ball

In the imaginative world of my son Myles, a simple makeshift field on the beach, outlined with big conch shells for goals, transformed into a grand Premier League stadium. As he dashed across the sand, he wasn't just a kid playing with his brother; in his heart, he was a star footballer, emerging onto the pitch to the sound of his name being announced, just like the heroes he admires on weekend broadcasts.

As the sun set on Florida’s Gulf Coast, Robyn announced, "Last play of the game," and Myles, Robert, myself, and their Mimi dialed in for one last run down our sandy field. As our clock expired and Robert clutched the ball insistently, he cried, "One more play! One more play!"

I didn't want the sun to set, ending our game, either. To play backyard ball is to experience pure joy. It's so pure, where the goal is to just have fun and play. It’s something I didn’t know I was longing for. As adults, after all, we are often robbed of the simple, pure joy of play, a vital source of joy and creativity that we unknowingly surrender in our pursuit of 'adulthood.' Play is not just a child's domain but a necessity for us adults.

As we returned from the beach, I was reminded of all the pick-up games I've played over the years. Like when I would call Al asking if he wanted to hit tennis balls, and hopped on my bike, rackets on my back, to meet him and some tennis teammates at the neighborhood courts, even if it was the dog days of summer. Or playing Ultimate Frisbee at the park, with Sunny tossing a lob to Herman, the person who was usually quiet, tall, gentle, and unassuming but then would outrun us easily with his gigantic stride.

These moments, seemingly trivial, were anything but; they were pure expressions of joy and camaraderie, free from the weight of adult responsibilities.

Some of my happiest adolescent memories were at the Lionas' house – either playing at the Whiffle Ball stadium – ring, scoreboard, and all – under the lights during summer break, or as a newcomer in the "Nerf Combat League" that Nick's older brother John started in their basement on February 4th, 1999 – a date I remember because it was in the league’s theme song, which we’d play after the national anthem every Thursday in the offseason between football and baseball, when we’d have matches after school.

At the time, I suspect many adults thought all this was charming – but still just something childish and suitable for teenagers but not for “grown” people. But what is the line between adolescence and adulthood, really? What makes play something that we outgrow? The weight of adult responsibilities is so deep sometimes; isn’t that when we need lightness and joy the most – to prevent us from forgetting what all these steps and accomplishments are actually in service of? I don’t want to believe that all we’re here for is to “win at life,” “grow our careers,” or some of these other myths we tell ourselves.

This is what I miss so desperately, all these backyard games, where playing the game – just playing – was more important than winning. In the backyard, the beach, the driveway, or the park is where you learn to love the game. It's where I, too, made some of my best friends – who are still my guys to this very day. And it's where I hope I'm becoming one of my sons' guys now. Maybe it makes me naive, but love, passion, joy, fun, and friendship have to be bigger than winning.

Maybe that's why I can't fully let go of watching football or throwing back a couple of beers with my buddies. Even though I’ve soured on tackle football and alcohol since my early twenties, those are the closest things to that feeling of silliness and play I still have. I sense such a deficiency of play in my life, akin to my lack of Vitamin D for which my doctor prescribed a supplement. Just like the supplement boosts my immune system, play would probably do the same for my spirit.

This blessing of play is one of the biggest gifts children give to us. My sons certainly have. They've reminded me how to play, taught me really, and made it easy for me to feel the silliness and joy of play, once again. I've realized so easily that I'm not the only one making a generous sacrifice in our relationships. My sons, also, are doing me a favor and choosing me, like the last kid at recess, and including me in their wonderful world of joy and play.

How did I ever get so serious, anyway? How did I let the dull and grinding world of adults make me so stiff? As we walk back from the beach, I feel like I did when those backyard games – whether it was soccer, football, tennis, capture the flag, whatever – ended as a kid. I'm so alive, smiling without needing to try.

"This was so fun," I thought as we walked up from our impromptu derby on the beach. "I can play. I'm allowed to play. I want to play again."

The best part is, we don’t have to ask the grown ups for permission to play. Because dang it y’all, we are the grown ups now. All we need to do is let the experts - our children - remind us how.

Beyond Efficiency: Strategically Deploying Gen AI in Enterprises

The concept that velocity is different from speed is one of the core ideas I draw upon when thinking about strategy, leadership, and organizational management. Lately, I've been using this concept to think about how to deploy emerging tech, like Generative AI, within enterprises.

The difference between speed and velocity is crucial. Speed is about how fast we're moving, for example, 55 miles per hour. Velocity, however, describes moving at 55 mph towards a specific direction, like heading East. This distinction has helped me see some nuance when discussing generative AI with colleagues and peers. For example, a computer software engineer can debug code faster using a large language model as a coding partner. While generative AI certainly helps with speed, merely focusing on productivity through speed probably misses the larger opportunity generative AI provides to managers of teams and enterprises.

In this example, improving speed might actually reduce overall productivity and impact, if the software being improved isn't solving a valuable problem in the first place. Here, generative AI would be more useful in helping the software engineer determine which feature would be most relevant and impact for the user. Going faster is only helpful if you're going in the right direction, the most valuable direction, to begin with. Using generative AI to increase speed in the wrong direction would be a missed opportunity.

It might be tempting to think of generative AI as a tool to "make our employees more efficient." However, it would probably be more transformative to use generative AI as a tool to "help our colleagues spend their time on the most valuable problems." This logic doesn't just apply to IT departments. For example, generative AI can help marketing teams draft copy faster, but it's probably more valuable to ensure they're targeting the best possible consumer segment. For operations teams, Gen AI might help to spot and improve manufacturing inefficiencies, but it might be more useful to help spot which product lines aren’t worth producing in the first place.

As an enterprise leader scrambling to deploy Gen AI, it’s easy to assume that the job to be done is to make everyone else more efficient. While this is partly true, business and technology leaders, especially those deploying powerful, emerging, tech like AI, should also contemplate use cases that improve the quality of leadership and strategy in enterprises - even though doing so might indicate that those leaders had it wrong in the first place.

Employing generative AI in a self-aware manner will require a significant degree of humility. But I believe it's worth it. After all, what's the point of heading east faster if we should be going northwest to begin with?

Consider the lesson learned from my own experience at work, which vividly underscores the crucial difference between speed and velocity in the application of generative AI. As a product owner for data, I've seen my engineering colleagues leverage tools like ChatGPT to streamline coding SQL queries, boosting our operational speed. However, a pivotal moment came when I discovered that a dataset we had meticulously prepared and delivered was left untouched by our business customer for months. Which, by the way, indicated that I had made a poor decision on what was worth spending time on.

Despite our efficiency in producing the dataset, it lacked the essential element of value to the customer. This incident revealed a stark truth: our focus on making engineering tasks faster, though beneficial, paled in comparison to the importance of selecting the right targets from the outset. There have been instances where the right datasets, aligned with clear and compelling use cases, saved our customers millions of dollars. The real win, therefore, isn't just in enhancing our engineers' efficiency but in ensuring that our efforts are directed towards creating datasets so valuable and relevant that our customers are eager to utilize them for significant impact from the moment of delivery.

To truly leverage the potential of generative AI within our enterprises, we must go beyond the pursuit of efficiency. The most obvious path is often the least disruptive—enhancing what already exists. However, the opportunity to create significant, long-lasting value lies in our willingness to question the fundamentals of our strategies and leadership approaches. It's about asking ourselves:

• Where are we merely maintaining the status quo when we could be exceeding it?

• In what areas are we failing as leaders and strategists to anticipate and shape the future?

• How can we redefine our objectives to not just improve but transform our enterprise?

This journey requires a substantial dose of humility and a willingness to embrace change, characteristics not often associated with leadership but absolutely critical in this context. Challenging our 'sacred cows' and reevaluating our core assumptions about what our enterprises do can reveal the most impactful opportunities for applying emerging technologies. Let's commit to this introspective and transformative approach, aiming not just to enhance but to innovate and redefine our enterprises for the better.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I’m not going anywhere.

This is one of the most divine things a person can hear. Especially someone, like me, whose nightmare is to be alone. But aren’t we all that way, in the deepest part of the heart at least, where it’s hardest for the light to reach?

I knew that if Robyn and I started dating, I would marry her. We started, and I loved her quickly. I was hers, before the end of our first summer. As summer became winter, I started to get scared. I honest-to-God loved Robyn. And I knew that when we married and had our life together, eventually one of us would pass from this earth. And there was a chance that Robyn would be the first to go, and that I’d be left alone.

The idea of being on this earth without kissing Robyn goodnight is among the most painful realities possible for me. What if? How could it? Would I? When?

By then, Robyn already knew the reaches of my curious and inquisitive mind - both the gregarious dimension of it and the morose. And so she said to me, those divine words that protected my soul from its darkest fears.

I’m not going anywhere.

Really, saying this is a promise. It’s a promise that we’re going to stay. It’s a commitment to companionship and love. Whether we reach the gates of heaven or hell, when we say something as bold as “I’m not going anywhere,” it means we’re there. This word, anywhere, is all-encompassing. When we say anywhere, it means we’re ride or die for someone.

But that’s the catch, isn’t it? The second part of ride or die is just that, die. We can’t control when we die; none of us can. So we know that “I’m not going anywhere” doesn’t mean that we’re going to be here forever. We infer that it means we’re here for as long as we can outrun the reaper.

I’m not going anywhere.

Our sons are at the age where they’re afraid of the dark, afraid to go to bed, or some combination of both. I get it. I slept in my parent’s bed well past kindergarten. I was scared too. Part of me still is.

So we say this to them: “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here. I’ll check on you before I go to bed.”

This is what most soothes them. Because they know we mean it, and they know they’ll be safe because we have the night watch. They know they won’t be alone and they’ll have someone to run to if they have a bad dream or throw up in the middle of the night - because we’re not going anywhere.

But they don’t understand the deal, fully. I can’t tell them, yet, that when I say this I implicitly mean unless I die.

This unsettles me because I am making them a promise that they don’t fully understand. I am running the risk that I will be stolen from them before they understand this. They need me to say it, so I say it. And I mean it, so I say it. And I plan to be here for a long time, so I say it. But I’m always still sending up a prayer every time I speak those four words.

I’m not going anywhere.

When I wake up in the morning, I believe in God. And when I go to bed at night, I really believe in God. This faith is what carried me through tonight.

Robyn is traveling this weekend for our soon-to-be sister-in-law’s bachelorette party. It’s Saturday as I write this, and I’ve been solo parenting since lunchtime on Thursday. The kids are having a really hard time with their mother being away. I can tell, even though they are the same rambunctious, gleeful, hilarious set of brothers that they always are.

It was a boys weekend and tonight was game night. Bo was the last one up today because I let him. And to be honest, I think we needed each other. We are both incredibly emotional. We both feel the sting of loneliness more devastatingly than anyone else in this house. So, I let him stay up later than his brothers, so we could play one extra game. He chose Ticket to Ride: First Journey, probably because it’s the only game where it’s at least 50% likely that he’ll beat me.

After his bath and bedtime story, he started to wig out. He flailed his arms, and contorted his body while sputtering semi-coherent sentences, as if the closing of the book’s cover caused him to be possessed by a wandering ghost. Thank God I wasn’t a train wreck of a father like I was earlier in the day. Next thing I knew, he was clinging to me, he and I on top of the duvet - and he was just clutching me, tight as he ever has.

“I’m never letting go,” he whispered.

This may be the most vulnerable he’s ever let himself be around me. His big feelings scare him, and with Bo, there’s no such thing as little feelings. So I am surprised, and humbled, as he says this.

“I will always be with you,” I replied.

Then my heart started to quicken, and tears squeezed out the sides of my eyes.

“No matter where you are or when it is, part of me is always with you, bud. Wherever I am, I am always thinking about you, mommy, and your brothers. Part of me is always in your heart. I will always be with you.”

This, I suppose, is the way out of this ride or die dilemma. I believe in God, and I believe that I have a soul. And I believe that if I love and pray hard enough, part of me will always be with Robyn, and with each of my sons. I can say those words and actually be telling the full truth. Because even if I die, part of me will always be with them.

And that is the divine element. Because with the help of God, I can say “I’m not going anywhere”, fully, lovingly, and deeply, without any exception.

And that’s where I left it with Bo tonight. I carried him to his room. I helped him squirm under the covers, tucked him in, and told him.

I’m not going anywhere.

---

My new book, Character by Choice: Letters on Goodness, Courage, and Becoming Better on Purpose, is now out in soft launch. I’m so excited to share it and proud of how it turned out. If you liked this post, you might find it a good read. You can learn more about the book here.

Expanding Identity: Lessons from ‘Master of Change’

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

This age-old adage, typically associated with financial investments, resonates deeply with me. It goes beyond diversifying assets to mitigate risk; it serves as a powerful metaphor for spreading our emotional and psychological investments across various aspects of life. This approach to diversifying how we define and perceive our identities can safeguard us against life's unpredictability.

After reading Brad Stulberg's Master of Change, the concept of not putting all your eggs in one basket took on a new, personal dimension. Stulberg explores rugged flexibility, a resilience against life's changes. His application of this proverb to the realm of identity struck me the most. He argues that by diversifying the sources of our self-worth, we can develop psychological resilience. This perspective, introduced by Stulberg, offered a fresh lens to view my own multifaceted identity.

Eager to put this concept into practice, I embarked on a personal journey of reflection. I often get flustered when life's balance tilts, feeling overwhelmed when things don't go smoothly. Recognizing this pattern, I saw the value in proactively applying Stulberg's idea. I aimed to equip myself better for those inevitable challenging times. Could redefining my identity in broader terms help me stay centered? This introspection aimed to mute my inner critic's harsh criticisms, labeling me an 'underachieving loser' (my inner critic's words, not mine), before they surfaced during the next downturn.

Here's what I discovered, a surprisingly revealing and affirming list. It was a profoundly good use of 30 minutes, one that I heartily recommend. Below is a snapshot of my notebook, showcasing these 101 facets of my identity. Entries like 'I am a pancake chef' and 'I am a coreographer' represent unique strands in my identity's complex tapestry, extending beyond just my professional life and familial roles. This visual representation of my diverse self-identity serves as a personal reminder of my multifaceted nature and as a direct invitation to you, the reader, to embark on a similar journey of self-discovery. It's a revealing and enriching experience.

Looking back on this exercise, I had one more takeaway that I’ve been chewing on.

I’m a pretty regular guy. I’m not that much more interesting or worldly than anyone else. And I was able to look inward and define my identity in 101 ways without too much trouble. If I’m not that different than the next guy, that means everyone is this multi-dimensional. Everyone has more to them than meets the eye. Everyone has a sophisticated, interesting, and unique inner world.

Which makes me think of how reducing so many institutions can be.

Reflecting on my career, I realize that most companies I've worked for have only acknowledged a fraction of my dimensions. In public politics, individuals often get pigeonholed into categories represented by organized interest groups, overshadowing their identity complexity. And I’ll admit it, when I see people in public I have a hard time remembering that there’s more to someone than some of the obvious visible identifiers - like the sports team on their hat, their fashion sense, or their likely age. These reflections opened my eyes to the frequency with which we're condensed to just a sliver of who we truly are, whether in professional settings or broader societal contexts.

The exercise sparked a pivotal change in my thinking: I now want to proactively assume the complexity and nuance in every person. I now know, in very tactical terms, how to look beyond surface impressions and appreciate that everyone has a complex identity. By choosing not to unintentionally oversimplify others, I seek to creating a space where the person in front of me can bring their full self to the world.

Imagine how different the world might be if everyone contributed the totality of who they were. It’d be something.

—

My new book, Character by Choice: Letters on Goodness, Courage, and Becoming Better on Purpose, is now out in pre-launch! I’m so excited to share it and proud of how it turned out. If you liked this post, you might find it a good read. You can learn more about the book here.

Shattered Glass: Reflections on Power and Parenting

One of our sons threw his dishes into the sink. And I mean that literally. He threw them, and they smacked and rebounded around with a loud thud.

He did this dish-tossing as an act of rebellion, because of some standard I had held him to earlier that evening. And it honestly worked, I was fuming because of it. This moment, charged with emotion and defiance, set the stage for a significant parenting reflection.

And as I went to wash the dishes, I found a broken glass.

What a perfect metaphor it was. In the broken glass, I saw more than just the result of a child's frustration; I saw a metaphor for power and its consequences. It made me realize how even the smallest actions can have a significant impact. Our son, in his own way, was expressing a need to feel powerful and seen. It reminded me that each of us, regardless of age, grapples with understanding and harnessing our own strength.

Lately, Bo has seemed nervous. Vulnerable in his own skin; he doesn’t feel powerful, I think. He seems to fawn over story characters and athletes because of their power and physical strength. A lot of his externally-narrated emotional processing keys in on his desire to feel and be seen as strong.

He might be too little for this to have sunk in, but I tried:

It’s not about the glass, I said. This broken glass proves you have power. It proves you have capability. You have the ability to influence the world around you, your actions affect other things and other people. Don’t feel like you don’t have power, because you do.

This is hard for me and other adults to understand, I added, but I still tried to explain it to him.

We all have two simple choices.

First, we all have power, talent, capability, and influence - but will we choose to even use it? Will we put ourselves out there and try to apply our influence onto the world around us? Not everyone does this. Not everyone accepts that they have power. Acknowledging the power, influence, talent, and capability we have is a choice. We are not helpless.

If we accept that we have power, and choose to use it, how? How will we use that power? Will we choose to use it to benefit others? Will we use it solely to enrich ourselves? Will we use it recklessly and irresponsibly? Will we use our power to break glasses or to bring water to those who thirst for it? How we wield power is a choice. We are not obligated to be monsters, we can choose better.

I doubt any of this conversation stuck with Bo, or with Myles who observed the conversation happen. Returning to the kitchen, where the incident began, I realized that this moment was not just about a broken dish. And it’s not just for my kids to remember that they have to choose to accept that they have power and choose how to wield it. If I say it enough times, maybe some of it will stick in my mind, too.

This incident with my son highlighted a universal truth: we all possess power in various forms, and how we choose to wield it - whether to create or to destroy - is a profound responsibility. This isn’t something just for my sons to hear, I need to hear this too.

The Steady Years: Strengthening Marriage in Comfortable Times

There are no existential threats to our marriage, and maybe that’s why I feel like this phase is so dangerous.

We are no longer newlyweds. We are no longer new homeowners. We are no longer new parents (or dog-parents). We aren’t going to be sending our kids to a new school for at least 8 years. We aren’t new anythings, and if everything goes to plan, we won’t be new anythings for a while.

Our life is in a spot where it’s pretty settled in as “parents of young children”. We won’t have kids that are either into high school or have all of them into kindergarten for 4 to 6 years. Neither of us are in a place where we’re likely to have rapid career growth - partly by choice.

Our marriage is feeling really settled in, with very little that may rock the boat unless something tragic happens in our extended family, God forbid. The water ahead isn’t placid, but we’re aren’t in stormy waters either. It feels like we’re just in a place of “keep the chains moving” or “one foot in front of the other” or “turn the crank.”

In a way, our lives are so stable. After the past decade with tons of change, it feels so bizarre to think that a season of sustainability and relative peace could be dangerous to our marriage. But I think it is. This seems like a time where it could be so easy to just do what we’ve always done. For things to get boring. For things to get not just comfortable, but so comfortable that we float and drift, without even realizing that our marriage isn’t anchored.

I worry that it would be so easy to mindlessly go through the motions for the next 4-6 years. That we get to 2030 and our marriage is stiff or slightly zombie-like, because we’ve gone half a decade getting so in the groove that we no longer have to give 100% attention to our marriage and family life.

I don’t think the way out of this is to seek crises. All the crises we’ve had have certainly made our marriage stronger, starting with my father’s passingly nearly 8 years ago. Even though that season, and other difficult seasons, have made us stronger - it came at high price: sadness, suffering, anxiety, and wounds. Looking for crises is an option, but that can’t be the best way to keep deepening and strengthening our marriage.

At the same time, I don’t think the full solution is to amp up novelty either. We could go on lots of fancy trips. We could eat out and go to the theater a lot more. We could move to a new house, just to liven things up. We could do any number of things to spice daily life up. But would that really lead to strength?

Sure, novelty is fun, and if we’re laughing and having fun it’ll make things feel good and positive. We’ll be able to keep things from getting stale. We definitely need some level of new and fresh - we’re only human.

But our time and money have constraints - it’s not unlimited. We can’t buy novelty indefinitely.

And moreover, how much can novelty strengthen our marriage? Surely, there are diminishing returns after a certain point. After a certain point, have we really deepened our connection or brought something more of ourselves to the marriage? At what point does novelty become a crutch or a stopgap?

I think there is a third way to strengthen marriages in these stable-but-could-be-dangerous years without entirely depending on crises or novelty: little sparks.

I figure, maybe I could try to just dial in extra deep for little moments of our days and weeks. You know, just throw in a little extra. Maybe when I’m making a pizza, I try some black pepper on the crust in addition to garlic salt. Maybe, it’s a little “I love you” post-it note I could hide in Robyn’s sock drawer every once in awhile. Maybe I try just a little bit harder to be extra specific when Robyn asks me, “how was your day, Honey?” It could even be just remembering to make real, genuine, loving eye contact at least once after the kids go to bed and we’re talking.

I really mean little sparks as just that: little. Nothing grand or flashy. Just little, intentional, things that lock me back to a state of attentiveness. Little sparks that say to Robyn, “I know our lives feel pretty similar every week, but I’m not daydreaming through it, I’m here with you in it.”

These little sparks are probably even me just proving to myself that I’m not mailing it in and that I’m digging deeper. That I’m paying attention. That 100% of me is still here.

These years, God willing, will be stable and not riddled with crises, grief, or existential threats to our marriage. But there’s no free lunch. If we have stability, it means we have to fight against the calcification that these stable-but-could-be-dangerous years could catalyze.

These years, where our kids are little, will certainly be some of the sweetest that we will have, and they already are. But we can’t let our marriage atrophy through it. That’s not a price I’m willing to pay. I want to make these little sparks so that once these years are over, we’re not going through the motions of our marriage for the rest of our days, relegated to reminiscing about the good ol’ days where our kids were little.

No, I want to be stronger and deeper in love and marriage than we were when we started this season of our life. This time doesn’t have to be dangerous, it can be a time of renewal if that’s what we make it. We can renew our marriage if we ride out the crises, add a dose of novelty, and stay committed to making those little sparks in our daily life.

Team 144

““No man is more important than the team.
No coach is more important than the team.
The Team. The Team. The Team””

— Bo Schembechler

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One of the strongest convictions I have is the value, beauty, and honor it is to be part of a great team.

It’s in my DNA, probably because as an only child I have desperately wanted to be part of something bigger than myself for my whole life. And, as an alumnus of the University of Michigan, the value of “The Team” is part of my identity, because of Coach Bo Schembechler’s legendary speech which I’ve linked above.

On Monday, January 8, the 144th edition of the University of Michigan football team will take the field to compete for a national championship. I have never wanted a Michigan team to win as badly as this one.

For me though, it’s less about football and the cachet that comes from being an alumnus of a team that wins “the natty.” I have admired this team from the very start because they are winning AS A TEAM and embody the spirit of an elite team, through and through.

One of the Detroit Police Department leaders I looked up to most had this on her team’s work area whiteboard, in perpetuity: “You get a lot more done when you don’t care who gets the credit.”

That, to me, is the simplest way of describing what a truly great team believes. It’s the same ethos that Coach Bo describes in “The Team Speech”. A truly great team cares more about the mission, the cause, the person they are serving, and the team’s goal more than individual accolades. That spirit is what has I’ve seen in Team 144 and been inspired by this whole season.

Here are just some of the examples that have stuck out to me that show this spirit in Team 144:

Coach Harbaugh is constantly deflecting attention in post game interviews and quickly getting off camera. Instead, he says to the field reporter, “you should talk to this man right here” and gracefully exists before his player takes the mic.

In the Ohio State game, All-American Offensive Lineman Zak Zinter went down with an injury late in the game, at a critical moment. On the very next play Blake Corum ran in a touchdown. The first thing he does? Go up directly to the sideline camera and throw up his teammate’s number with his hands, dedicating the TD to their injured teammate, on behalf of the entire squad.

Apparently this week, Coach Harbaugh asked JJ McCarthy (QB1) if he wanted to talk about this future (i.e., his NFL prospects). McCarthy basically gives him a “naw, I’m good coach.” Basically saying instead that he’s focused on the national championship game and they can talk about his future after the CFP championship.

In the CFP Semifinal, Michigan (with 2 five star recruits on its roster) beat Alabama (with 18 five star recruits on its roster). That doesn’t happen unless coaches develop players up and down the depth chart and unless everybody participates and steps up to play their best as a single unit.

There was clearly a culture change after the Covid season. This team openly talks about how much they love each other and how they play for each other and play for Michigan. In any post game interview I’ve seen, the reporters don’t seem like they can get someone to talk about themselves instead of the team.

After each huge win, I love seeing Blake Corum’s expression. He and other top players constantly talk about the team’s goal. And Corum’s words and expression sum up the same thing, “Job’s not done.” This is huge on a football team to have one of your best players and team leaders focused on the team’s goal immediately after a big win. It sends a huge message on what’s important to the entire locker room.

After all the drama of the season, you didn’t hear any fingerpointing coming out of the locker room. All we saw was unity, and all we heard was the same message, we’re a team and we’re focused on our goals. No matter what was swirling in the press and no matter who the head coach was for that week, you heard no dissent in the ranks. Not once.

Several of the team’s key players decided to return for another season because they had “unfinished business” and wanted to win a championship. Moreover, after last year’s loss to TCU in the CFP semifinal, JJ McCarthy said, “But we’ll be back, and I promise that.” And here we are.

To be sure, there are more examples than what I’ve listed. These are just some of my favorites. The punchline is this: Team 144 embodies what it means to be a team.

—

Sometimes, I get really frustrated with life at work. So often, I worry that someone is going to put themselves ahead of the team. I’ve experienced it personally, and it happens a lot: People hide information so they can maneuver. They try to claim credit for the team’s work behind the scenes. They throw you under the bus, baselessly, to the boss. They don’t give others opportunities to lead because they want to earn their gold star or be top of mind for a promotion.

To be clear, all this is bullshit and wrong. To be sure, I’m not perfect (I’m sure I’ve behaved selfishly) but I honestly try everyday to be a team player and not a selfish agent. And, very little makes me angrier or sadder than when people screw the team to advance their individual interests. It offends me to my core, and makes me feel hopeless that true, pure teamership is possible.

But Team 144 gives me hope.

The fact there’s a team out there playing elite college football and competing for the sport’s highest championship gives me hope. This year, there’s at least one elite team, in it’s truest and purest sense - that’s out there in the world doing it right. Team 144 has reminded me that it’s still possible - even in a culture that often seems defined by self-absorption and self-centeredness - to have a great team. The idea of a team - that acts as one unit and achieves a mission greater than it’s individual members - still lives.

So to Team 144, thank you. Thank you for a great season. Thank you for giving us alumni something to get excited about and reconnect over. But most of all, Team 144, this wolverine thanks you for reminding us what Coach Bo meant when he proclaimed, “The Team. The Team. The Team.”

Go get that natty tomorrow, and forever Go Blue. We’ll be rooting hard for you from Detroit.

2023: The Year of ‘Not Helpless’

My biggest regret this year was not attending a memorial service for someone I knew who died unexpectedly.

Despite our distant connection, my grief was real, but fear held me back. I worried about navigating the unfamiliar customs of their faith and feared saying the wrong thing to their family, whom I had never met before. Additionally, I was concerned about how others would perceive my attendance, given our weak ties.

Upon reflection, none of these fears justify my absence, and this regret has been a poignant lesson for me. It seems so obvious now, but I actually have some control over how I react to fear. Nothing but myself was stopping me from making a different choice.

I am glad that even though I feel regret, I have learned something from it: My ignorance is my responsibility and under my control. My irrational fears are my responsibility and under my control. My boundaries and response to social anxiety is my responsibility and under my control. These are all hard, to be sure, but I am not helpless.

—

I’ve now proven to myself that I can do better. This is my greatest accomplishment of the year.

On vacation, where work stress dissolves into the Gulf of Mexico's salt, I find myself more patient with my sons. In the last two months, gratitude journaling helped me realize that I was unfairly expecting my sons to manage my frustrations. This insight has made me a better listener, helping me see them as they need to be seen - closer to how God sees them.

On vacation, when the stress of work dissolves into the Gulf of Mexico’s salt, I am more patient with my sons. In the last 2 months of the year, when some gratitude journaling I did finally made it click that I’m expecting my sons to help me manage my own frustrations, I am better. I am a better listener and I finally see them in the way they need me to - closer to how God sees them.

Now, I know, I can do better - I just have to do it when the world around me feels chaotic and when we’re out of our little paradise and back into our beautiful, but very real, life. This will be extremely difficult, but I know I can do it, because I’ve already done it.

Once I am better - as a listener, as a father, and as a husband when Robyn and I work through this together - I start to talk to them different. I’m curious. I’m asking questions. I’m taking pauses. I’m no longer trying to control and react, I am the powerful wave of the rising tide that is firm but gentle, enveloping them and their sandy toes until they are anchored again.

I change how I talk. Instead of saying - “stop it, now!” I start to say, with a full, palpable, sense of love and confidence in them - “you are not helpless.”

—

Over the years, Robyn and I have taken exactly one walk on the beach together during our Christmas vacation.

We saunter away for 30 minutes at nap time, letting the masks we so reluctantly maintain as parents and professionals fully drop. It's just us, speaking to no one except three young girls who earnestly and eagerly approach us, asking, “Excuse us, but would you like a beautiful sea shell?“

Some years, one of us is weeping as our grief and frustration finally is allowed to boil over. This year though, we are incisive and contemplative. I am honestly curious. We struggled so much this year, how is it that we aren’t more frustrated with each other?

By the end of our walk and our conversation, I see her differently. She is more beautiful, but that’s how I feel everyday. Today, I also feel the depth of her soul and resolve more strongly. Her gravity pulls me in closer.

We have fought hard to get here. All the hard conversations we’ve had and all the conflict resolution techniques we’ve studied and applied have made a big difference. Yes, we have put in the work.

But at the root of it, is something much deeper and strategic. We have seeds of resilience that we have planted consistently with every season of our marriage that passes. We plant and reap, over and over, not a fruit but a mindset. We have vowed to be in union. We are dialed into a single vision that is bigger than both of us. We are committed to make it it there and we have jettisoned our escape pods, figuratively speaking, we have left ourselves no choice but to figure it out.

And with every crisis, we feel more and more that we can figure it out. With each year that passes, the difficulty of our problems increases, but so does our capacity to manage them. More than ever, as the clock strikes the bottom of the hour and we end our saunter, I remember - we are not helpless.

This year was hard. But the silver lining was that I finally internalized something so simple, but so important.

When the going gets tough - whether it’s because of death, our children growing up, or external factors adding stress to our marriage - nobody is coming to save us. We are on our own. But that’s okay, because we are not helpless.

Children bring out our best

I've noticed that almost everyone, myself included, behaves differently in the presence of children.

We swear less, we try harder to be nice, and we try to be more patient than when we’re around adults. It’s like children bring out the Christmas spirit in us in every season of the year. But why?

For one, they deserve it. Kids are innocent and we owe them a chance to be in a nurturing environment. We all know kids’ surroundings affect who they become. We try our hardest for them because we know it matters. Our responsibility to them matters.

But I don’t think that’s the only reason. I think we also feel safer around children than we do around adults.

When I interact with a child, I don’t expect them to be mean. I don’t expect a child to pounce on my vulnerability and kindness like an adult might. My expectation of how a child will treat me matters. This lack of expectation for cruelty from children creates a sense of safety, contrasting sharply with my guardedness around adults. And that helps me to act differently. Our expectations of how others will behave matter.

—

It’s a common and worthy trope to ask, “why can’t we embody the Christmas spirit all year?” What I realized this year is that we already can. The vast majority of people I know try harder to be their best, kindest self when they’re around children. We have it in us to try a little harder all year.

The rub is, we don’t expect other adults to embody the Christmas spirit all year. I think that’s why it’s so easy to regress into being crabby in January - our expectations of how others will be have matters.

That’s the challenge isn’t it? Our challenge is to try harder so that others expect that we will be kind toward them, no matter what circumstance or season we’re in. What we can do, I think, is just to remember that it’s our choice whether we want to always act with the grace we always afford to children.

By this, I don’t mean infantilizing every adult we do. What I more mean is that we can believe that everyone deserves to be in a nurturing environment, even as adults. Imagine a world where we all extend the kindness and grace we naturally offer to children, to everyone we meet. How wonderful might that be?

It’s not just kids who deserve nurturing surroundings, we all do. Because it matters.

It’s not about the words

For a long time now, I’ve believed that being a leader is hard, but it’s not complicated. If we take responsibility we are a leader. If we do not take responsibility, we are not. It’s that simple.

What seems to matter is not the word we use to describe ourselves. What we need to understand is two things:

1. Do we have power, yes or no?

2. Are we taking responsibility, yes or no?

Ultimately, the place we have to be the most honest is the mirror: When I have power, how do I act? What about when I don’t?

The rest is just words.

The Two Questions That Define Every Culture

In exploring organizational cultures, two simple yet revealing questions cut to the heart of the matter:

How do those with power treat those without?

And how do people with power act among their peers?

These questions offer a clear window into the dynamics of power and status, transcending environments from corporations to community groups. As far as culture goes, these two questions tell us all we need to know.

For the purposes of relatability, I’ll share some examples that are work-related, but again, these examples have easy analogs across organizational contexts.

How do people who have power treat those without it?

These aren’t the only archetypes, but how do people at your company who have power act toward those that don’t?

In some companies, people with power exploit and take advantage of those without power. They ask them to work long hours, without being in the trenches themselves. They aren't clear about what they want or the direction to go; they just tell the people that work for them their outputs are not good enough and don’t add anything constructive. They might play favorites, hire and fire people on a whim, and insist that those around them affirm their egos, rather than being honest about what they think. In these cases, people with power infantilize those without power, and then berate them.

In other companies, the dynamic is different. Instead of treating those without power as less than, the powerful treat those without power as greater than or equal to. Those with power take increased responsibility and hold a high standard, but for themselves first. They coach and develop and make it their business to help those who are struggling or less powerful to succeed. They create spaces where everyone can contribute their efforts and expertise - and commit to the right thing for others, rather than squashing ideas which threaten their power. In these sorts of companies, the powerful use their power to build up others and the team’s goals, rather than themselves. The powerful listen - to colleagues, customers, and communities. This is quite different from the example above, right?

Finally, in some companies, the dynamic between the powerful and the powerless is not that of greater than, or less than, but of apathy. There is no dynamic between the powerful and the powerless, because they never interact. The powerful leadership class stays away in their penthouse offices, without ever making an effort to engage with rank and file people. There’s not any malintent between the powerful and the powerless; there’s just no relationship between them.

I’ve tried hard not to make any pejorative comments about which dynamic between powerful and powerless is best - though I, and I suspect most, would hope to work in a company like the second example. The point, though, is to illustrate the power of the question - if you can honestly observe how those with power in an organization treat those without power in an organization, it tells you a lot.

How do people who have power treat their peers?

These aren’t the only archetypes, but how do people at your company who have power treat other people who also have power?

In some companies, people with power team up to enrich themselves. It’s the dynamic of “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” They make each other look good and help each other angle for positions of increasing power and influence. If you’re in the club, you get help; if you’re not one of the club members - you’re on the outside without an ability to grow your contribution or your compensation. In these sorts of companies, the powerful protect each other, even if it’s at the cost of accountability for performance, integrity, or the best interest of the company or customer. In some companies, there’s a sort of corporate plutocracy that emerges.

In other companies, people with power combine their forces to raise the bar. They push each other to be better and help each other to be better. They put egos aside and do the right thing to create win-wins for the company, its customers, and the communities they serve. In these sorts of places, people with power hold each other to an ever-increasing standard of integrity, performance, and compassion. In companies like this, it’s all about the team, and everyone with power gives more than their fair share in an effort to help the team succeed.

Finally, in some companies, the dynamic between those with power is toxic. It’s not a leadership culture of plutocracy or responsibility; it’s a leadership culture of betrayal and backstabbing. In these sorts of companies, the powerful fight with each other for everything: promotions, respect, and resources. This dynamic is one of dog-eat-dog, where it’s every person for themselves - eat or be eaten.

Again, I’ve tried not to be pejorative - I just wanted to describe the type of power cultures I’ve observed. But again, I, and I suspect most, would opt

to join a company like the one described in the second example. But like before, the question tells you a lot.

Reflection

December is the time of year where everything is winding down, making it an ideal time for reflection. It’s the time of year where we can step back and make an honest assessment of our organizations and ourselves. This holiday season, these two questions are what I’m going to be reflecting on.

To be clear, this doesn’t just apply to life at work. It’s also in my family, where I decidedly have more power and status than my children. It’s also in my community, where I’m not someone with the highest power, status, or affluence - but I’m certainly not the least either. It’s also, finally, a reflection that can be done with respect to society at large - whether at restaurants, the grocery store, or the park, how do I treat others when I am in a position of power asymmetry?

I was just talking to a friend of mine about power and its relationship to organizational culture. We easily traded stories and shared what we’ve learned. This notion of power and culture, I think, is something that we all intuitively understand because we live it every day. I suspect that if you are still reading this post, you were remembering teams and organizations you’ve been part of; it’s hard not to.

How we treat others - especially when we are in a position of relative power - is a choice. We have a choice in how we act. We have a choice in the type of culture we create. But to do that, we have to honestly reflect on our own behaviors and honestly observe the prevailing behaviors within the organizations we are part of. How we make this choice starts with being honest about how we’re acting today.

If you’re at a loss for something to reflect on this holiday season, I hope you’ll join me in taking a step back to think about how we act when we have power - both toward the powerless and toward our peers.

Crafting a Resident-Centric CX Strategy for Michigan

Last week, I shared an idea about one idea to shape growth, talent development, and performance in Michigan through labor productivity improvements. This week, I’ve tried to illustrate how CX practices can be used to inform talent attraction and retention at the state level.

The post is below, and it’s a ChatGPT write-up of an exercise I went through to rapidly prototype what a CX approach might actually look like. In the spirit of transparency, there are two sessions I had with ChatGPT: this this one on talent retention. I can’t share the link for the one on talent attraction because I created an image and sharing links with images is apparently not supported (sorry). It is similar.

There are a few points I (a human) would emphasize that are important subtleties to remember.

1. Differentiating matters a ton. As the State of Michigan, I don’t think we can win on price (i.e., lower taxes) because there will always be a state willing to undercut us. We have to play to our strengths and be a differentiated place to live.

2. Focus matters a ton. No State can cater to everyone, and neither can we. We have to find the niches and do something unique to win with them. We can’t operate at the “we need to attract and retain millennials and entrepreneurs” level. Which millennials and which entrepreneurs? Again, we can’t cater to everyone - it’s too hard and too expensive. It’s just as important to define who we’re not targeting as who we are targeting.

3. Transparency matters a ton. As a State, the specific segments we are trying to target (and who we’re deliberately not trying to targets) need to be clear to all stakeholders. The vision and plan needs to be clear to all stakeholders (including the public) so we can move toward one common goal with velocity. By being transparent on the true set of narrow priorities, every organization can find ways to help the team win. Without transparency, every individual organization and institution will do what they think is right (and is best for them as individual organizations), which usually leads to scope creep and a lot of little pockets of progress without any coordination across domains. And when that happens, the needle never moves.

4. It seems like the State of Michigan is doing some of this. A lot of the themes from ChatGPT are ones I’ve heard before. Which is great. What I haven’t heard are the specific set of segments to focus on or what any of the data-driven work to create segments and personas was. If ChatGPT can come up with at least some relatively novel ideas in an afternoon, imagine what we could accomplish by doing a full-fidelity, disciplined, data-driven, CX strategy with the smartest minds around growth, talent, and performance in the State. That would be transformative.

I’d love to hear what you think. Without further ado, here’s what ChatGPT and I prototyped today around talent attraction and retention for the State of Michigan.

—

Introduction: Charting a New Course for Michigan

In an age where competition for talent and residents is fierce among states, Michigan stands at a crossroads. To thrive, it must reimagine its approach to attracting and retaining residents, and this is where Customer Experience (CX) Strategy, intertwined with insights from population geography, becomes vital. Traditionally a business concept, CX Strategy in the context of state governance is about understanding and catering to the diverse needs of potential and current residents. It's about seeing them not just as citizens, but as customers of the state, with unique preferences and aspirations.

Understanding CX Strategy in Population Geography

CX Strategy, at its essence, involves tailoring experiences to meet the specific needs and desires of your audience. For a state like Michigan, it means crafting policies, amenities, and environments that resonate with different demographic groups. Population geography provides a lens to understand these groups. It involves analyzing why people migrate: be it for job opportunities, better quality of life, or cultural attractions. This understanding is crucial. For instance, young professionals might be drawn to vibrant urban environments with tech job prospects, while retirees may prioritize peaceful communities with accessible healthcare. Michigan, with its rich automotive history, beautiful Great Lakes, and growing tech scene, has much to offer but needs a focused approach to highlight these strengths to different groups.

Applying CX Strategy: Identifying Target Segments

The first step in applying a CX Strategy is identifying who Michigan wants to attract and retain. This involves delving into demographic data, economic trends, and social patterns. Creating detailed personas based on this data helps in understanding various needs and preferences. For instance, a tech entrepreneur might value a supportive startup ecosystem, while a nature-loving telecommuter may prioritize scenic beauty and a peaceful environment for remote work. These insights lead to targeted strategies that are more likely to resonate with each group, ensuring efficient use of resources and increasing the effectiveness of Michigan's efforts in both attracting and retaining residents.

In the next section, we'll explore the importance of differentiation in attraction and retention strategies, and delve into the specific segments that Michigan should focus on. Stay tuned for a detailed look at how Michigan can leverage its unique attributes to create a compelling proposition for these key resident segments.

Importance of Differentiation in Attraction and Retention

Differentiation is crucial in the competitive landscape of state-level attraction and retention. It’s about highlighting what makes Michigan unique and aligning these strengths with the specific needs of targeted segments. For attraction, it might mean showcasing Michigan’s burgeoning tech industry to young professionals or its serene natural landscapes to nature enthusiasts. For retention, it involves ensuring that these segments find ongoing value in staying, like continuous career opportunities for tech professionals or maintaining pristine natural environments for outdoor lovers.

In focusing on segments like automotive innovators or medical researchers, Michigan can leverage its historic strengths and modern advancements. By tailoring experiences to these specific groups, the state can stand out against competitors, making it not just a place to move to but a place where people want to stay and thrive.

Overlap and Distinction in Attraction and Retention Strategies

The overlap and distinctions between attracting and retaining segments offer nuanced insights. Some segments, like tech and creative professionals, show significant overlap in both attracting to and retaining in urban settings like Detroit. This indicates that strategies effective in drawing these individuals to Michigan may also foster their long-term satisfaction. However, for segments with minimal overlap, such as medical researchers (attraction) and sustainable farmers (retention), strategies need to be distinct and targeted to their unique needs and lifestyle preferences.

Successful implementation teams will use these insights to create nuanced strategies for each segment. Avoiding a one-size-fits-all approach and recognizing the different motivations between someone considering moving to Michigan and someone deciding whether to stay is key. The primary pitfall to avoid is neglecting the distinct needs of each segment, which could lead to ineffective strategies that neither attract nor retain effectively.

Deep Dive into Experience Enhancements

Let’s delve into two specific segments: nature-loving telecommuters for attraction and tech and creative young professionals in Detroit for retention. For the nature-loving telecommuter, Michigan can offer unique experiences that blend the tranquility of its natural landscapes with the connectivity needed for effective remote work. Imagine "remote worker eco-villages" scattered across Michigan’s scenic locations, equipped with state-of-the-art connectivity and co-working spaces, set against the backdrop of Michigan's natural beauty. This not only caters to their desire for a serene work environment but also positions Michigan as a leader in innovative remote working solutions.

For tech and creative young professionals in Detroit, the strategy should be about fostering a dynamic urban ecosystem that offers continuous growth opportunities and a thriving cultural scene. Initiating a Detroit Tech and Arts Festival could serve as an annual event, bringing together tech innovators, artists, and entrepreneurs. This festival, coupled with collaborative workspaces and networking hubs, would not only retain existing talent but also attract new professionals looking for a vibrant, collaborative, and innovative urban environment.

Conclusion: Michigan’s Path Forward

Michigan is uniquely positioned to become a beacon for diverse talents and lifestyles. By adopting a resident-centric CX Strategy, informed by population geography, Michigan can tailor its offerings to attract and retain a dynamic population. It’s about moving beyond generic policies to creating experiences and opportunities that resonate with specific segments. The call to action is clear: Let's embrace innovation, leverage our unique strengths, and build a Michigan that’s not just a place on a map, but a destination of choice for a vibrant and diverse community. With these strategies, Michigan won’t just attract new residents – it will inspire them to stay, contribute, and flourish.

Attraction Segments Table:

Retention Segments Table:

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.

—

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