My flaw is a sad, pervasive disease

Art by Mel Bochner

They are in the way of everything and everyone. They make us tired, lose the storyline, and distract us from the point.  Sometimes they make us roll our eyes in disbelief. Yes, they can be real drama queens.

They remind me that my thinking is flawed, sloppy, and lazy. Or that my emotional complexity is retarded and that I’m just too repressed or status-seeking to speak candidly.

Which is all so sad because some days I can’t live without them. They’re my crutch, my easy fix, my fallback for hiding flaws.

Perhaps you too, dear reader, suffer from this disease.  Or perhaps you’ve conquered it and could help me.

It’s called Sucky Adjective Disease.

It’s a horrible, terrible, lame, deficient, unacceptable, rotten, gross, pathetic, and flawed disease. It's especially pervasive at work.

One time I crossed out all the adjectives in an essay. What remained was pathetic. I put the adjectives back and saw them for what they were: bland flourishes, like random paint strokes obscuring the people in the scene.  Oops, there I go again. I’ve got it bad, girl.

You know you have a serious case of SAD when you slip into using redundant adjectives. This is a serious sign that you’re exhausted or hate what you’re writing about. Unexpected surprises. Free gifts. Verdant green. Urgent crisis.  Overused cliches.

Many practice “Dry January,” abstaining from alcohol. I wonder if 30 days of giving something up creates a good habit. If so, should I try a SAD-free February? Not using any adjectives seems drastic. Not just horribly difficult but tragically sad.  My poor words would feel so naked and exposed.

Cold turkey is so extreme and I might suffer from withdrawal or a paralyzing writer’s block. What do you think about trying to reduce adjectives by 50%?

If the SAD fast works, might another one help me with my “ing-ing” problem, those pesty present participles. (And don’t tell me to give up alliteration. My ears need linguistic music.) My last editor liked and hated my writing. She left the adjectives but crossed out all the verbs ending in “ing.”  She said they sucked the life out of the writing.

Oh, dear readers. My writers' group prompt today about owning my flaws brought me to the depths of my wicked laziness in writing.

I take the easy way out. I suffer from Sucky Adjective Disease and “ing-ing.”

From here on in, I vow to expose more without my adjective allies.

If I disappear from writing on this blog, send me help by way of some adverbs.

SAD but buoyantly yours,

Lois

The Fund: Unraveling Another CEO Mythmaker

The new book, “The Fund: Ray Dalio, Bridgewater Associates and the Unraveling of a Wall Street Legend” by investigative reporter Rob Copeland, is a fascinating read and an example of where good rebels can't effect change; their best action is to leave a company.

The book unveils many “worst business practices”: CEO benevolent narcissism, cultivation of a fear-based culture wrapped in the guise of radical transparency, and years of brilliant CEO positioning/promotion about a groundbreaking system to codify human behavior for better decision-making, which was nothing more than a CEO's musings (spun as "Principles.")

It’s especially interesting if you’re interested in leadership, corporate culture, human behavior and reputation management.

I'm still processing thoughts from this book, but some of the big questions it raised for me:

  • Why do we continue to fall for these business "heroes"?

  • Why do extremely rich men think they're experts at everything because they've made so much money? (And, again, why do we believe them so blindly?)

  • Why do people judge a person's worth based on their wealth? (Positively and negatively.)

  • Is job security and financial gain worth the cost of not speaking up at work when colleagues are publicly humiliated, discriminated against, and given derogatory labels by the CEO? (The answer is “yes” for many who worked at Bridgewater. The good rebels who spoke up were promptly fired, despite a core corporate value of honesty and transparency.)

Dalio has disparaged the book and the author, but it's a solid piece of investigative reporting.

Oh boy, oh boy.

Jacinda Ardern: Dare to Lead with Humanity

We are waiting. More than 2,000 students, faculty, and community members are in the Brown University sports complex to hear her speak about leadership.

“I’ve never seen so many students show up for this annual lecture on leadership,” says a university staffer.

Are they interested in leadership? Or are they interested in what she believes and was able to accomplish?  Or are they looking for hope that leaders can be kind and strong, empathetic and decisive, optimistic and focused? That bravado, certainty, and confidence needn’t be the traits needed to lead?

It turns out, all of the above.

Jacinda Ardern, who became the prime minister of New Zealand at just 37 years old (2017-23) and is now a senior fellow at Harvard University, is known for her skilled handling of a live-streamed domestic terror attack against New Zealand’s Muslim community, a volcanic eruption, and the COVID pandemic.

Within two days of the attack on the Muslim community where 51 people were killed, New Zealand banned semi-automatic weapons. Her government’s swift actions during COVID-19 helped New Zealand achieve the lowest number of deaths of any developed country.

Also notable: she had a child during her second year in office.

Vibrant, positive, and humble, Ardern exudes optimism and realism. She tells us about not wanting to be prime minister, suppressing her imposter’s syndrome, constantly questioning what she could have done better or differently, and what she learned about leadership based on her experiences.

“We’re surrounded by large-scale issues that are not going away. We live in a fraught time. The fears of people are genuine.  Then there is fear that is politically motivated. Fear and blame are quick and easy pathways for political leaders not to act. I believe political leaders must park fear and blame and maintain hope and ambition.”

Change, she reminds us, doesn’t happen by blaming.

Rather it comes from involving people in creating solutions and being transparent. “When the public can see the rationale behind the decision, they are more likely to accept those decisions.”

She admitted that leading amid uncertainty is hard.  Making decisions during COVID, she said, was a constant choice between hard and hard. Yet, you have to keep moving forward.

 “There’s often an assumption in leadership that… we cannot reply, under any circumstance, with ‘I don’t know.’ But conceding we had knowledge gaps wasn’t just the truth, it was a critical path to building trust…Confidence in leaders comes from trust as much as competency. It is OK for a leader to say, ‘I don’t know.’ It is not OK to say, ‘I don’t know what to do.’”

Adern urged people to believe they can lead, to realize our capacity to lead is much greater than we think, and that we don’t need the same traits as current leaders in any field.

“We need more people who are willing to carve that fresh path of different styles of leadership in different occupations because otherwise, we will keep getting the same styles and the same decisions and the same thinking,” she urged. “Be willing to be a first. That will help the person who is second and third. And look for the people who don’t put their hands up. They bring the unexpected skills.”

In summary, she shared her view on the six most important 21st century leadership qualities:

1.       Fairness

2.       Kindness

3.       Empathy

4.       Bravery

5.       Curiosity

6.       Ambition

She leaves us with a renewed sense of what we should expect from our leaders and the confidence that we all can lead, especially if we lean on our humanity, courage, and curiosity.

Guidelines for work and life

Having guidelines — or a North Star word — has always helped me make decisions and stay focused on what matters the most. Enjoyed this advice from Vikrant Batra, CMO of HP, that I scribbled on a piece of paper several years ago, and just recently found again.

1. Track what makes you feel good.

2. Treat every obstacle as an opportunity. Change your mindset as problems arise.

3. Know what is absolutely essential to you. What can you cut out?

4. Be true to yourself. Speak your mind. Boldly. Always.

5. Give people the benefit of the doubt.

Stormy Joy: Pressing Pause on Anxiety

As a long-haul caregiver, I’ve learned one especially important thing: if we can press PAUSE on our anxiety and worrying, we can let in moments of intense joy.  Like what happened in this story. 

***

“I know it’s last minute,” said Rosanne’s email, “but we’re planning Wayne’s memorial celebration here on the island, on what would have been Wayne’s 69th birthday. It’s going to be one of those celebrations Wayne always liked where people come down for a while and leave with a new friend. Can you come?”

Our friends Wayne and Rosanne moved from Rhode Island to St. John in January 2009. Wayne to manage the Concordia eco-resort, and Rosanne to start a property management and architectural firm.  They married in late January of that year at the eco-resort.

Wayne was a good friend to my husband Greg. When the Covid lockdown started in March 2020, Wayne called Greg every week from his home in St. John. They talked about politics, history, nature, weather, and questions about God, the afterlife, and spirituality. I could hear Wayne ask questions and offer wise perspectives.  No judging or advice-giving. Just a friend’s love and observations about failing health and the threat of death. 

Greg’s brain was decaying from advanced Parkinson’s Disease; Wayne’s heart and liver were failing.

Wayne often quoted Maya Angelou or Van Morrison’s lyrics to provide context to his observations.  His cadence had the magical rhythm of a poet or singer. It was calm and comforting. He had a poet’s soul and a philosopher’s mind

Wayne’s wife Rosanne texted early one morning last March to tell us that Wayne died while waiting for a heart and liver transplant. He was 68. 

The sadness made Greg’s hallucinations, a common symptom of late-stage PD, especially vivid and frightening.  The imaginary Wayne was in Greg’s bedroom but wouldn’t listen to him, unlike Wayne.  Greg screamed, “Wayne, Wayne, why won’t you answer me.” Then the hallucination faded. “Don’t leave. Come back, Wayne. Please don’t leave me.”  Greg slept the next two days, exhausted and bereft.

“I don’t think I was this sad when my parents died. I loved Wayne so much.”

***

Greg and I went to St. John to be part of the festivities when Wayne and Rosanne married in 2009.  We stayed in one of the eco-resort’s platform tents. The tent perched on a hill and overlooked Ram’s Head Bay, part of the Virgin Islands National Park.  We climbed 93 steps up to the parking lot from our tent and down 56 steps to get to the casual restaurant and reception area.

Wayne believed that everyone who came to their wedding should leave with at least one new best friend. Most of the guests, like us, stayed for a week. We ate together at the open-air restaurant and jammed people and beach chairs into Jeeps to drive over the north side of the island to St. Francis Bay, one of the island’s quietest and smallest beaches. We drank beer and ate burgers at Skinny Legs Bar. We fell into meandering, meaningful conversations with strangers who became friends.

 We all joined hands as Wayne and Rosanne made their vows by the yoga pavilion. This was no fancy-dancy “destination wedding.” We wore beach sandals, Hawaiian shirts, linen caftans, and lots of sunscreen. After eating under the pavilion, we cleared the food, moved tables, and danced to a local band.

Greg had been experiencing headaches and a pinched nerve in his neck for months before this trip. In retrospect, I see that these were symptoms of Parkinson’s, which would not be diagnosed until two years later.

 His pain was less intense in St. John. Perhaps the island’s wild beauty, good memories, and the love of old and new friends were like a balm, physically and mentally.

***

Before our son Ian started school, Greg and I rented a house here in January as a Christmas present for family and friends. The house would be packed with people, wet bathing suits on the clothesline, port-a-cribs, and flip-flops. My mother snorkeled. I swam and read. My father and Greg sat on the beach with their Budweisers. My sisters ran after two-year-old Ian as he chased wild donkeys into the mangroves. At the end of the day, we took outdoor showers, cooked dinner, and went to bed early.

The island is not for everyone. Wild donkeys, goats, and lizards walk the roads and beaches. Mice run wild in kitchens if you don’t store everything in the refrigerator. The driving is treacherous, with mountain switchbacks and disorienting left-hand side driving. There are no resorts, fancy restaurants, or beachfront cabanas with refreshments.  The Internet connection can be sporadic, as can electricity. Solar heats the water in many houses and campsites. If it’s cloudy, you’re taking a cold shower.

The trip to St. John for Wayne and Rosanne’s wedding was the last big trip Greg and I took.

***

I replied, “YES!” to Rosanne’s email right away. Of course, I would come to Wayne’s memorial celebration. Yet I went to St. John with some trepidation. Greg had moved into an assisted living facility three months earlier, and I was anxious about being so far away. What if he fell? Needed help organizing his pills? Became excessively agitated from the hallucinations, which were becoming more frequent and disturbing?  If Greg needed me, he might not be able to reach me because of the spotty Internet and cell coverage on the island. And if there were real problems, I wouldn’t be able to get home for at least a day.

“Go, please go,” Greg said. “It will make me so happy to know that you’re in a place we loved with people we love.”

***

Wayne’s memorial celebration, at the same place he and Rosanne had married, was lovely. Poignant stories. Photographs and videos that made us laugh and cry. Local musicians. Good food. Balmy breezes.

The moments of joy that jolted me awake came from two unexpected events later that week.

The day after the memorial, 25 of us boarded three boats at the tiny marina behind the Skinny Legs bar and headed out to a secluded cove near the east end of the island.  We tied the boats together and anchored for what locals call a “raft-up.”  Some older people got comfortable under the awning on one of the boats. Most of us wrapped swimming noodles under our arms, grabbed a drink in a plastic cup, and climbed the ladder down to the water where we bobbed around.

I chatted with one or two people, then paddled over to another person or small group. We told stories about Wayne. We asked for details about the octopus someone had seen snorkeling earlier in the day.  I talked with Rosanne about her grief and what was going on in her head and heart.

At one point Kate, who owned the boat charter, started doing water acrobatics. We all paddled closer to see what was going on.

“Kate competed in the 2008 Olympics for synchronized swimming,” someone said as a leg pointed up from the water and twirled around.  About 20 of us created a circle around Kate and goaded her into giving us a performance. She dove under the water and then her legs shot up, twirling and doing scissor kicks.

Inspired by the performance or fueled alcohol,  my new friend Kevin, 27 years younger than me, soon decided we should go down the slide on one of the boats.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Lois, we have to do it. “What do you think, Natalie? Are you in, too? Lois and I are going to do it.”

For the next hour, we climbed up the ladder, flew off the slide into the water, came up for air, laughed, and squealed, “Again!”   We were free, silly, and exuberant like six-year-olds.

“Hey everyone. It’s getting dark. We have to start thinking about leaving.”

We nodded and looked around at the sky, the changing color of the water, and all of us together, new friends and old. Yes, we agreed, this was the best day ever. How lucky are we?

It was what one of my mindfulness books calls “collective effervescence.” 

***

The second surprise was the ferry trip back to St. Thomas, the first leg of the trip home.

The 11:15 a.m. ferry from St. John to Charlotte Amalie sat waiting for its passengers. The ferry to Red Hook is sleek, modern, spacious, without rust, and with ample seating above and below the deck. But this ferry was a clunker. Sometimes it works, sometimes it’s out of commission for a month or more, the locals warned.

Just 12 of us boarded the 11:15, all but one person sitting on the sturdy benches at the open stern of the boat. It was 83 degrees, humid with ominous clouds and a soft breeze.

The ferry workers tossed our luggage onto the open deck, a neat heap of rollerboards, duffle bags, and oversized bag packs. Once done, they pulled the lines up, and the ferry horn gave a low blast. We were off.  

A family of four looked exhausted. They wore wrinkled black travel clothes and stern, sunburnt faces like they’d had too much vacation together. A middle-aged couple my age looked up at the sky. She was dressed in a silky black and white halter dress and gold leather Gladiator sandals. Her brown bob looked like she just walked out of a salon. She went below deck. Her husband looked over at me and shrugged his shoulders. He was wearing ferry-appropriate clothes: nylon shorts, a tee shirt, and sneakers, much like me.

I put my face to the sun to feel its warmth, the gentleness of the Caribbean, and the return of joy this past week despite being here for a friend’s memorial celebration. I wanted to store up these feelings as I headed back to the dark, coldness of New England, back to my husband, whose disease is merciless.

The ferry moved past the lush hills of the tiny islands between St. John and St. Thomas. So green, so wild.

Another surprise this week was the butterfly bloom, the first in six years, the first since the devastating 2017 hurricanes Irma and Maria. All week the yellow, white, and orange butterflies swarmed around me as I drove my jeep down rutted, dirt roads to my favorite beaches and sat on my porch listening to the baby goat crying on the rocky beach below the house.

“Hello, my fairies, or are you my guardian angels?” They dipped and rose and playfully flew off together, loving their island, loving the return of the ecosystem after such destruction. We are back. Woosh.

“Goodbye, my angels,” I said as the ferry moved away from the islands.

When the wind gusted and a soft rain started, half the people went below deck. I pulled my raincoat out of my pack and zipped it up. Mr. Appropriately Dressed gave me a thumbs up. He had no raingear.

The boat hit a swell and water sprayed the deck, soaking us. Now everyone went below but me.

The rain turned fierce, stinging my face. It was an angry rain, daring me. “Will you choose the safe way or stay in the mess of life, with all its tragic and beautiful surprises?”

The ferry worker threw a tarp over the luggage. I put my feet on it, so it wouldn’t blow away. He gestured for me to go below. I shook my head no. He not only went below but closed and locked the heavy steel door, keeping the rain and ocean swells from seeping into the cabin.

“Thank you, thank you, God or guardian angels or Mother Nature. Thank you for this, I prayed as I sat in the storm, feeling more alive than I had in years.

The wind shifted, still strong but from a different direction, like a protective power was waking me up, encouraging me to pay attention. To feel it all.

As the ferry neared the harbor the storm moved off to the north and the sun came out. I took off my REI raincoat, which flunked its waterproof claims. My wet shorts and tee shirt stuck to my body. Water dripped from my hair into my eyes.

The steel door opened, and people emerged from the cabin, serious, intently looking for their luggage and hoping it was dry.

They looked up at me, alone and soaked.  I smiled.

Oh, the joy and freedom of staying in the storm. Mother Nature reassured me, “You’re alive. There’s more. Much more.”

Rebel Therapy?

Couples Therapy.jpg

Do you know the glowing reviews about the Showtime docu-series “Couples Therapy”? It’s well deserved. Over the weekend I binged both seasons and came away with insights about myself, my marriage, and Rebels at Work.

Forming trusted relationships is foundational for Rebels to get people to buy into new ideas or commit to changing behavior. Without that, nothing happens. We all know that. Yet we get triggered or trigger others and we say things and do or don’t do things that stall progress, sabotages our credibility, or frustrate us so much that we quit. Kind of like what happens in our marriages.

I paid close attention to wise clinical psychologist Dr. Orna Guralnik as she counseled clients and reviewed client situations with her clinical advisor, Dr. Virginia Goldner. Some highlights relevant to us as Rebels at Work:

"When people get anxious about change, they tend to restrict.”

So many of us Rebels love experimentation, new approaches, and change. But change makes most people anxious. Part of our work has to be alleviating this anxiety or else we won’t get support. Things that alleviate anxiety at work: research, experiments, being willing to be held accountable, and demonstrating how an idea supports an important organizational goal or value.

“Everyone has a valid point of view deeply rooted in something that matters to them.”

A huge Rebel mistake is to dismiss someone’s opinion (or, worse, publicly embarrass a person.) A tremendous Rebel skill is to uncover what matters to people in the organization who are likely to stop us or help us, particularly the Bureaucratic Black Belts. A great line in “Couples Therapy” is when Dr. Guralnik wonders about a patient’s state of mind, and Dr. Goldner redirects her. He’s not confused, Goldner says. “He’s reporting the vicious facts of life as lived by him.” Sometimes people at work aren’t confused by our situation assessments and proposals. They’re objecting to the situation based on their experiences and points of view.

“It’s the small acts and gestures that build trust.”

In a marriage or a work relationship, the small everyday things we do and say earn trust. To be an effective change-maker, we first need to be trusted. Some trust can come from technical knowledge, but deep trust comes from the small things at work like doing what we promised, volunteering to take on a necessary but dull project, sharing helpful information, giving a heads-up about a potential problem, and acknowledging something a person did well.

“Hold our judgments lightly.”

We’re often wrong, especially those first impressions. Stay open, observe, and ask good questions.

“Whatever triggered you about the other person is a source of interesting information about yourself and who they are.”

When we pay attention and build this awareness of ourselves and others, we can better navigate relationship challenges. It’s this kind of data that helps us grow our Emotional Intelligence, an essential competency for Rebels.

“There will be crises and disappointments. These shouldn’t be a reason not to commit. What we do need to commit to is bringing kindness and compassion in helping one another during difficult times.”

Maybe a value in all organizations should be:

“We recognize that change and growth are necessary, never go smoothly, and people will feel frustrated and disappointed.

We will be kind and compassionate with one another, especially when we take risks and things don’t go well.”

Safety Triggers: What Slows Rebels Down

blurred wonder .jpeg

“Stop. Look. Go,” advises Br. David Steindl-Rast.

He’s referring to a practice that cultivates gratefulness. But Rebel bigmouth here misconstrues it. When someone utters a ridiculous cliché about being overly cautious, I stop myself from saying something snarky, look at the person with disbelief, and then go crazy. Even if it’s just in my head, keeping the verbal lashing away from the person who just crossed the line.

This Rebel at Work’s top safety triggers:

The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

This makes me want to be evil, crazy and say something irreverent to shock the complacent advice-giver. I refuse to cling to the past and close my mind to what’s emerging. Why would I ever turn my back on what I don’t know? Why would I run from the surprises yet to come?

It’s nice to be nice.

…and it’s emotionally constipated to be so passive-aggressive. Tamping down our emotions may make us feel temporarily safe. But there’s no safety in emotional avoidance and there’s no kindness in being emotional bland. Come on out of that emotional hiding place. Feel those emotions, smell their aliveness. Frank feedback and daring ideas make many uncomfortable. We’re not aiming for nice; we’re aiming for better. Maybe even amazing.

Better safe than sorry.

How do you know you’ll be sorry? Didn’t anyone ever tell you that a lot of surprises are good? Next time just tell me, “That scares me,” instead of this boring drivel. Then I won’t bite your head off or ignore you.

Look before you leap.

Stop making me second guess my gut reactions, which are my most reliable North Star.  By the way, leaping is way more fun than just sitting around looking at the world pass you by.

First things first.

I know you’re scared. But don’t slow down the magic. Come on. Let’s zoom through a first version, slamming down all the energy and bubbling ideas, and then go back and assess and edit. Really. Sometimes the fourth thing is way better than that cautious first thing.

A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe the bird you’re holding is dead, and the two in the bush are fat little songbirds that will sing to you for years.

Safety is our No. 1 priority.

Yeah, right. Have you looked at our sick day policies? The pitiful health care coverage? The productivity and output measures that lead people to the edge of breakdowns?  Safety starts by looking at how to improve the workplace so people can thrive instead of stress.

Whatever.

Did you just dismiss my fears? Or are you perpetually bored? Or are you brushing away what you no longer can bare? Oops, I mean bear. What's unbearable.

This is what feels unsafe to a Rebel at Work

People who default to using cliched catch phrases make me feel unsafe.

Those trite lines make me afraid that you’re so emotionally stunted that our relationships will come to ruin or an ugly dead end.

That you will resist uncomfortable new ideas and our organization will become irrelevant. Now THAT is scary.

That you’ll hold on to what use to work in a world that no longer is, making it even harder for the rest of us to adapt, innovate and flourish.

Be the change you want to see, baby.

Let me be lazy

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What surprises me most about my life right now amidst the COVID pandemic is how lazy I want to be. My life has always been:

List, list, list.

Plan, plan, plan.

Goal, goal, goal.

Check, check, check.

Now I want to sleep at least 10 hours a night.

Say goodbye to clients, projects, goals, commitments.

“No,” the choir shouts. “Not you. Are you depressed?”

I am tired.

Someone else take charge.

Write the list.

Make the plans.

Follow-up.

Keep track.

Clean up the messes.

I want to nap on my 1800s four-poster bed and wake up without an alarm clock.

I want to let the day unfold instead of washing, drying, and ironing.

This laziness is a surprise. Who will I be without all those doing labels?

Speaking.

Writing.

Consulting.

Billing.

Planning.

Researching.

Analyzing

Advising.

Competing.

Tracking.

Strategizing. (God, I hate that bureaucratic term.)

What surprises me is that the only label I want — if I must have one — is rebelling.

Rebelling for goodness.

For freedom.

For choices.

For thoughtfulness.

For resting and being a sloth.

I despise labels as much as my younger self loved them.

I wanted to be a VP before 30 and president by 40. With a write-up in the Times, thank you very much. Check, check.

I am surprised at how silly and superficial my young woman was, though her story-worthy adventures may not have happened without her ambition, disciplined leaping, and plan, plan, planning.

I am surprised I now like to read about housecleaning.

Brushes.

Micro-cloths.

Extenders for changing ceiling lights.

Mop heads.

Homemade cleaning formulas.

The order of the process: dust, vacuum, wipe, mop. One room at a time.

This is no surprise.

I love to research.

Figure new things out.

Share my finds.

Give friends unusual tips.

About cleaning,

Hiking,

Fashion,

Cooking,

Books,

Movies,

Leadership,

Caregiving,

Money,

Decorating,

Photography,

Design thinking,Skincaree,

Technology,

Food.

I am surprised that I am often too lazy to clean, hike, lead, budget, create or cook anything too complicated. The figuring out and the so-that’s-how-you-do-it aha’s are enough.

Perfect outcomes are an illusion, too fixed in a world that spins unpredictably.

It’s no surprise that instead of cleaning I put on music and dance.

Spinning.

Swaying.

Leaping.

Twirling.

Then resting with a new beat that is slower than the old normal.

No, dear ones, I am not depressed. Just catching my breath after so many years of non-stop doing.

So glad you enjoyed the fruits of those plans, parties, and money.

I’m lobbing the ball over to you. Not a hard slam but a gentle lob that will be easy for you to return. But please return it to somebody else. I may be lounging on the couch reading a novel or that new handbook about the ultimate all-purpose cleaning solution: one teaspoon of Tide power, a half-gallon of water,r and a splash of bleach.

Thank you for not worrying and allowing me to rest and hibernate this winter. I’m surprised at how good it is to just be, except when I see a new spider web under the legs of the bureau. If I still kept lists, I’d note this. Oh well.

As for labels, I always like to cut them off.

Pillows.

Mattresses.

Towels.

Linked-In.

Everything is softer without them.

Flying without armor

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This is from a longer story I wrote about battles at work, but thought Rebels someone might get some value from this:

I learned to sense battles and swerve. I’m not a fighter. A rebel, yes. But rebelling for something meaningful gives energy. Fighting battles sucks the life force out of you. Getting beat up didn’t make me stronger. It made me resentful, bitter and insecure.

No more battling the old-boys, the bureaucratic machine with its rigid roles and definitions of success. Most women don’t battle. We figure things out together, get it done and then have dinner and talk about life away from work. Wise men know this, too.

My professional and personal friends are not warriors. They are collaborators, teachers, advocates, helpers, cheerleaders and whatever else they need to be.

The question in business is not “how can we win,” but “how can we help.” Not how can we kill the competition or sideline the other exec for the open spot, but how can we provide more value.

Yes, this is naïve, as my friends still battling in the corporate world remind me.

Some are great warriors who enjoy the battles. I am a creative bird that flies without armor.

What makes a thriving workplace?

Moment Factory, Montreal

Moment Factory, Montreal

“Good” work environments that support creativity, adaptability, change and resilience aren’t  just about psychological safety, inclusion, management trust, or purpose. A whole lot of it is also about the physical environment of our workspaces.

Our physical environment affects our mindsets, our moods, our behaviors. Bright, colorful environments with plants and natural woods make us feel optimistic, creative, calm, open to possibilities. Sometimes even joyful.

So why do we have to work in such drab work environments? Why don’t we rebel for offices that boost our energy and our open-mindedness?

I’m not talking big-ticket Silicon Valley office makeovers, but simply taking a more considered approach to our workplaces. More intentional color. Better lighting. Less junky, cluttered stuff. More plants.

Here’s why.

Research on our physical work environments

Over the holiday break I went down a rabbit hole of reading research about how workplace physical environments affect our emotions and behaviors, and even signed up for an applied color class at RISD. There’s a lot of research into interior design psychology, color psychology, biophilic design, environmental psychology, neuro-architecture and geeky publications like the Journal of Environmental Psychology and the Academy of Neuroscience and Architecture.

I also read the fascinating new book “Joyful: The Surprising Power of Ordinary Things to Create Extraordinary Happiness” by Ingrid Fetell Lee, former design director of IDEO, the global design firm committed to creating change through design.

Some highlights on how it affects behavior:

Color = more alert, friendly confident: People working in bright, colorful offices were more alert than those working in duller spaces, according to a study of nearly a thousand people in Sweden, Argentina, Saudi Arabia and the UK.  They were also more joyful, interested, friendly and confident.

Daylight improves energy, mood, blood pressure: Increasing exposure to daylight reduces blood pressure and improves mood, alertness and productivity. Employees who sit near windows report higher energy levels and tend to be more physically active both in and out of the office. In a study of elementary schools, students in classrooms with the most daylight advanced as much as 26 percent faster in reading and 20 percent faster in math over the course of a year. Hospital patients assigned to sunnier rooms were discharged sooner and required less pain medication than those in rooms with less light.

Too sterile or too disorderly = anxiety, negativity: Disorderly environments have been linked to feelings of powerlessness, fear, anxiety,  depression, and exert a subtle, negative influence on people’s behavior, as do overly sterile environments.  Natural environments, on the other hand, tend to put people at ease. Employees working in environments with natural elements have reported 13% higher wellbeing and 8% more productive. Another showed that working in close proximity to plants improves concentration and memory retention.

Ceiling height matters: Low-ceiling rooms are best for focusing on the details of a subject or object and high, lofty ceilings are more conducive to abstract styles of thinking, brainstorming, creative solutions, and zooming out to get a bigger perspective, according to experiments by Joan Meyers-Levy, professor emeritus in marketing from the University of Minnesota’s Carlson School of Management.

Humdrum feeds hunger: “In our humdrum environments we live with a sensorial hunger, and without any other means to satisfy it, we feed it,” says Ingrid Fetell-Lee. She suggests that our drab work environments lead us to snack more to fill sensory voids.

Easy change for change makers?

I showed Ingrid’s TED talk video, Where the Joy Hides and How to Find It, during a recent one-day workshop on change and resiliency for women CEOs. They were mesmerized. 

“A lot of change is hard, hard work,” several executives told me that night at dinner,  “But we can find money in the budget for paint and lighting. We can physically make our offices more conducive to change.”

Yes, we can.

So, while the hard work of changing outdated systems and practices takes considerable time and resources, maybe we can at least create physical work environments that reduce stress and nurture optimism and a sense of possibility.

Low cost, high return.

Let’s not suppress our thinking and depress our spirits in muted winter taupes, beiges and browns. These colors, per researchers, elicit seriousness and reliability as well as a heaviness and lack of innovativeness. They are boring, old patriarchal colors.

Growth and change thrive in bright, vivid environments.

Oh, those joyfully rebellious role models

photo by Pablo Heimplatz

photo by Pablo Heimplatz

First, he would laugh at the craziness of what I was telling him. Because it seemed I went to him when I was in the thick of something messy.

Then he would offer thoughtful advice. No preaching.  And then at the end of our talks he’d often tell me that this would be another great adventure.

Frank, my former client and friend, was joyfully rebellious.

His infectious positivity motivated so many of us to do more than we thought possible.  

To take chances, laugh at the inanities of corporate politics, have a difficult conversation we kept dodging, learn more, dig deep to find the answers we needed, and to have fun along the way.

A few years ago, I called Frank to thank him for all that he had done for me over the years, and to update him about my labor of love helping Rebels at Work. “Well, that’s really different for you. Tell me more.” 

I called to express my gratitude to him, and then he told me what he had learned from me. Really? Such joy from a simple act, and an example of advice from Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama from their book, “The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World. “If you want more joy in your life, focus on others.”

Frank McGonagle, joyfully rebellious

Frank McGonagle, joyfully rebellious

Frank McGonagle died a couple of weeks ago at 89. He lived a long life full of adventure and helping others, despite personal tragedy. (An interesting factoid: he coined the “You can pay me now or you can pay me later” slogan.)

Models of  joyful rebellion

People like Frank who have contributed so much are often joyfully rebellious. Not angry, fearful, stern, mean or arrogant.

Think about some joyfully rebellious public figures:

  • Nelson Mandela, former president of South Africa

  • Ann Richards, former governor of Texas

  • Director Spike Lee

  • Writer/performer Patti Smith

  • Carmen Medina, my Rebels at Work partner and former CIA executive

  • Archbishop Desmond Tutu

  • Tip O’Neill, former Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives

  • Herb Kelleher, founder of Southwest Airlines

Why have so many used “beloved” when talking about these people?

My hunch is that their rebellious joy has infected us to keep going, to know we can do more, and to appreciate those moments of pleasure along the way.

We don’t have to be miserable as we work our work.

Last year at the Savannah Film Festival actor John David Washington was asked what it was like to work with Spike Lee on the film BlacKKKlansmen, especially the KKK scenes.

“Spike always showed up on the set full of wonder and joy,” said Washington.

Maybe the most rebellious thing we can do in our current world environment of fear, dissent and anger is to show up with more wonder and joy.

Here’s to joyful rebellion, helping one another, and being lucky enough to find role models like Frank along the way.

What's the problem?

Photo by Marek Okon on Unsplash

Photo by Marek Okon on Unsplash

“The secret is to find the important problems and focus on those,” explained Monique Savoie, founding president of the Society for Arts & Technology (SAT) in Montreal, which some call the MIT of Canada (although it is so much more), and a visionary on the interdisciplinary challenges of bridging science, art and technology.

Monique was responding to a Fortune 100 executive’s question about how to better prioritize resources and talent, cultivate more creative, flexible organizational cultures, and attract and keep talent.

While the response may seem simplistic, it is not. Great solutions result from of getting the problem right, and then focusing work on solving that problem. Acting like scientists in challenging our assumptions and then developing and researching hypotheses with the people who might benefit from a new approach.

Solving the right problems, the most important problems, also motivates team members. It is “employee engagement” at its best. Almost all of us want to be working on something that matters.

“What is the most important problem for us to take on?” may be one of the most helpful questions to consider in this annual planning season.

Another wise leader, Meg Wheatley, also urges us to more clearly see what needs to be done and then doing it.

Are You an Optimist or a Pessimist?

Some people want to put us into a category.
Some people only feel good when they know where they fit.

Are you an optimist?
A pessimist?

Really, there’s only one right answer. You have to be an optimist.
Otherwise you’re a drag. No fun to be around. Dr. Death.
And a new term, you’re from the “Doomsphere.”

In the past, we were taught to note our worldview by looking at a glass of water.
Is the glass half empty? Is it half full?

Your answer defines your identity: Gloom and doom or hopeful and great to hang
out with.

What a nonsensical question this is. Is the glass half full or half empty?
Who cares?!

The right question for Warriors is:
Who needs the water and how can we get it to them?
What is the work that needs doing and how can I contribute to making it
happen?

No labels. Just seeing clearly what needs to be done and stepping up to do it.

Margaret Wheatley ©2019