Notes

"The great philosopher Dolly Parton [once said], find out who you are and do it on purpose. ... And I would like to flip Dolly's phrase upside down, and I'd like to say: do it on purpose, and you'll find out who you are. Asking for a guarantee before you start isn't helpful. Instead, we need to look at a concept, an idea, and be willing to try it out with intent because if we do, if we try it on for size, we will figure out if it fits us. As opposed to the opposite, which is spending a lot of time figuring out who we are and then going and finding the things that fit us." (Seth Godin on The Knowledge Project: #105 Seth Godin: Failing On Our Way to Mastery)

Seth's concept goes beyond self-discovery. I see it as a statement on the power of acting with passion and, in the process, achieving clarity. On the flip side, many of us get stuck searching for clarity before ever getting started.

Defining a vision for what we want is critical when establishing our goals and aspirations. However, at a certain point, it can become an excuse for not diving in. We stall, claiming that there are too many unanswered questions to begin.

I remember feeling this way when I started my newsletter. At first, I kept questioning myself, wondering if I really had anything valuable to share. Once I got over that hump, I spent all this time debating the name of the newsletter. As if the name The Beatles had anything to do with their success. I hadn't written a word yet!

Yes, we need to know where we're going, but once we have a direction, we can learn the most not by laboring over the finer details but by doing. Why? Details change. It's inevitable.

Say that you want to start a YouTube channel reviewing music. You can spend the next six months, maybe even a year or more, talking about it, deliberating over what type of music you want to review and how long the videos should be. But, how can you ever claim to know until you try? Instead, you can make a video. Post it. Get feedback. Make another one with that feedback in mind. Post it. Continue.

Imagine if we redirected the energy we spent thinking and talking about what we want to getting to work. Then, where would we be?

Sometime in Middle School, I dated a girl who used to tell me that I lived in a fantasy world (or something along those lines). Essentially, I would talk about a future in stark contrast to current reality. To me, it was invigorating. It gave purpose to my priorities and a vision for where I wanted to be down the road, but when I heard this feedback, I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me wonder if I needed to get real instead of living in a dream state.

I'm not sure if my fantasy-speak was what ended that relationship, but it didn't last long.

I kept on dreaming.

I hadn't returned to this memory until reading The Path of Least Resistance last month. In it, author Robert Fritz underscores the importance of defining vision. Without it, we get stuck playing whack-a-mole, spending more time problem solving than thinking about what we really want.

Reading this book made me look back on my Middle School fling with gratitude. Gratitude for teaching me something about myself that, years later, I've come to view as a strength, personally and professionally.

I'm not suggesting that we fool ourselves by not acknowledging our current reality. But, once we're clear, we can start looking ahead at what reality we want to create.

Contrary to what my Middle School fling might say, I find that speaking about that future as fact, not as a possibility, helps drive even more momentum toward our vision.

In The Three Laws of Performance, authors Steve Zaffron and Dave Logan call this "future-based language."

"Future-based language, also called generative language, has the power to create new futures, to craft vision, and to eliminate the blinders that are preventing people from seeing possibilities. It doesn't describe how a situation occurs; it transforms how it occurs. It does this by rewriting the future." (Steve Zaffron and Dave Logan, The Three Laws of Performance)

As leadership within any organization, this is why future-based language is critical. By not only aligning the team on vision but making the vision a part of everyday discourse, we can help propel them toward a future that, on their own, they may never have imagined.

"In most organizations, the network of conversations is noisy, conflicted, filled up with gossip and chatter that makes new futures impossible because they project a probable and default future that people are living into. From the perspective of the Three Laws, leadership is empowering others to rewrite the already-existing default future and to realize goals that weren't going to happen. From this definition, 100 percent of leadership happens through conversations that pull people into the game, not through sitting back and creating visions that then need to be sold. Leaders who master using future-based language have power that others don't have." (Steve Zaffron and Dave Logan, The Three Laws of Performance)

At the end of the day, what employees want most from their manager is honesty. And if we expect honesty from our team, well, we should practice what we preach.

Sometimes, managers struggle with telling the real story, worried about what might happen if they disclose too much information. Well, here's the thing. You can choose to keep everything close to the vest and let your team create narratives about what they're experiencing, OR you can be open and let them know what's really going on. The way I look at it is this: the facts are the facts, no matter how you spin them.

Early on, I used to take a more reserved approach to management. Then one day, I found myself spending more time deliberating about how to say the "right" thing vs. getting to the point and taking action. Yeah, silly.

Since then, I've found freedom in doing my best to leave nothing unsaid. It was uncomfortable at first, but every chance I got, I practiced. I soon learned that honesty inspires honesty. These days, I'm a big believer in that. Sometimes, my team comes to me with things that I can't believe they're sharing, but I'm so glad they did.

Here's an example: In a 1-1, an employee once told me they took an interview elsewhere and why they did. Barrel is their first job, and they were curious to hear how other agencies operate. We went on to talk about how they could become more connected to their peers and learn from the community. Note: They're still here! And continue to be a valuable contributor to the team.

When you put it all out there, sure, folks may still interpret information in different ways, but at least they're working with all of the facts. You can work with them to clarify without worrying about what version of the story you told or beating around the bush. Phew, trust me - it feels good.

I've always respected Amazon's willingness to experiment with ideas in market. From the Fire Phone to the Amazon Tap (which I happen to own and love), Amazon has launched numerous products and initiatives that didn't work out as planned. But, they put their best foot forward, gave it a go, and most importantly, knew when to fold their hand to focus elsewhere.

"Another lesson my father taught me, and without question, this is one to commit to memory: Life is only partly about how you hold and handle your cards. Don’t ever be so goddamn sure of anything, because nothing in life is a given. No matter how good the odds, no matter who's the favorite, no one but no one wins every race. Even when we pay attention, when we hope and pray and prepare and double- and triple-check, things go sideways. People lose their health and hard-earned businesses and the loves of their lives, and no one sees it coming. That's the hardscrabble of life. Sometimes, you have to know when to fold your cards and call it a draw." (Paul Van Doren, Authentic)

As a manager, embracing this mindset over the years has been liberating. Looking back, I'd say that this simple shift has had the most profound impact on my ability to generate results as a leader. 

Instead of going into a hole and attempting to craft a bulletproof solution on my own, I engaged others in the process, sharing ideas and gathering insights. I realized that "perfection" was a never-ending pursuit, so I focused on what I could do more immediately in the short term to move closer to the long-term vision, even if it wasn't flawless.

For example, when I saw that the team was struggling with presentations, I conducted a workshop on what made a presentation successful. I took those findings and developed a Designer Preparation Prep Checklist that each designer would fill out for review before presenting their work. From vision realization to implementation, this took all about two weeks. 

At first, the doc got heavy use. Then, it started fizzling out. My instinct would have been to resurface it and require its use, but then I noticed something, presentations were improving. The doc was no longer relevant. 

So, did it fail? 

Some might say yes, no one uses it. While that may be true, I'd say no - it was never about a doc or process; it was about creating a tool to help mentor designers to lead better presentations. As these discussions became part of our everyday, the doc was irrelevant. I'm just glad I gave it a go instead of losing precious time trying to craft the perfect vision.

Funny enough, I found out recently that our Design Director still shares the doc with Junior folks from time to time. I guess it's a bit like me and my discontinued Amazon Tap.

Alright, so the moral of the story is this...

When looking to create change within an organization, we, of course, want to get it right. However, we have to resist the urge to perfect for too long. Why? Well, time waits for no one, and truthfully, most things are a constant work-in-progress.

What matters most is that we try. Put the time in to define a path forward, get feedback, and go for it. The worst thing that happens is that it doesn't work out, but the beauty is that you'll have more information to make the next step forward that much more impactful.

I remember taking trips to NYC with my family as a kid. My younger brother is a tap dancer, and at a young age, danced in clubs throughout the city, so we were there regularly.

On some days more than others, Manhattan traffic was rough. My Dad used to call particularly painful intersections the "white knuckle zone," meaning your hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turn white. He also used to say, "you have to commit" before driving fearlessly into a sea of yellow cabs determined to get to their destination.

Spending a decade living in the city, I thought of these phrases often, especially while driving in Manhattan, Dana in the passenger seat, wincing at every turn.

What I've discovered, though, is that these concepts go beyond navigating Manhattan. If my Dad didn't commit; instead, stuck debating the perfect time to go, we would have never gotten anywhere.

In life, indecision is the enemy of progress. It's worthwhile to think things through, but at a certain point, you have to commit.

"When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not that last blow that did it—but all that had gone before.” (Jacob A. Riis)

I'm not sure there's a better way to describe the power of perseverance. Whether it's exercising, learning an instrument, or any other endeavor, it is way too easy to give up early on. You can't see the crack forming, but every strike is a strike closer to the split. The tough part is that you never know when it's coming. Before you throw in the towel, remember that you could be giving up one or two strikes away from something big.

My approach? Find joy in the hammering, not the final crack.

You can't rewrite history, or can you? It depends on how you look at it, I guess. You can remember an event one way or another and even document it how you choose. You can try to "fix" any mistakes and remedy any mishaps. However, neither of these options change what transpired.

This thought crosses my mind, now and again, regarding my habits. For example, I try to read every day for 30 minutes. I track this habit, along with others, in a simple little app called Done.

If I miss a day of reading, can I read for an hour the next day and count it as two sessions? Well, of course, there are no rules, but there is integrity. I have a hard time feeling good pretending that I read one day when I didn't. But then again, is it about the tracking or the value of practicing healthy habits?

Taking a step back reminds me that it's the latter. Tracking is just a tool to keep going and check in on progress. That's the risk in gamifying anything. When the game becomes more important than the purpose, it may be time to re-calibrate.

"It all comes down to getting the right people in the right seats." (Gino Wickman, Traction)

Before deciding whether or not you have the right people, take a closer look at the seats.

You hired them because you saw something special. Are they able to flex their unique ability in their current position?

You were excited for them to join because you saw their potential. Are you giving them the opportunities and support needed to reach it?

The hardest part is getting started.
The hardest part is navigating curveballs.
The hardest part is pushing through plateaus.
The hardest part is knowing when you're finished.
The hardest part is acknowledging the fruits of your labor.
The hardest part is seeing the win, even when you've lost.

The hardest part only grows harder when I label it that way. In moments of defeat, I think that life would be better if I could only get through to the other side. Then, if I do, the other side has a new set of challenges.

I'm always practicing how not to get hung up on "the hardest part" because I know it will change with every step forward. In that way, the hardest part is just another part of the process.

If you're like me, and catch yourself labeling challenges, try to resist the urge. Focus on finding your groove. Understand the process. Practice. Show up. Show up again and again.

The hardest parts are no match for perseverance and consistency.

"This week flew by."

"Wow. It felt like this week lasted a lifetime."

"Was that Monday? That seems like ages ago."

"I can't believe it's already been a year."

Time is constant, yet it always feels like it's moving fast or slow. Our commitments, hopes, and fears shape our perceptions.

We cannot control time; but we can control our relationship with it. We can recognize its rhythm and design our world to get in sync. Or we can ride the wave, always falling behind or racing to catch up.

"You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current results." (James Clear, Atomic Habits)

For the last week, I've been visiting with family in a suburb outside of London. At times, it's been a challenge to keep up with my daily habits, but I've been able to stick with many of them, like reading, writing, and journaling. That said, my exercise regimen, diet, and alcohol consumption have gone by the wayside, by choice.

I've opted to maximize the time to play with my nieces and nephews rather than find time to exercise. I've opted to indulge in one or two sticky toffee puddings with family instead of prioritizing my diet. (It's delicious, by the way.) I've opted to toast with a classic gin and tonic instead of sticking with water. What feels good, though, is that I feel in control. I'm not concerned with how these decisions might impact my life in the near term because I know I'm still on track; my current trajectory is looking good long-term.

I'm excited to continue enjoying what's left of this trip and then hitting the ground running when I return home.

While it's good to be future-oriented and set big goals, we can't forget to be present. When we become obsessed with achieving an outcome, we risk missing what's right in front of us.

"We think we need more and don’t realize we already have so much. We work so hard “for our families” that we don’t notice the contradiction—that it’s because of work that we never see them." (Ryan Holiday, Stillness Is the Key)

Always a welcome reminder; for now, and the future.

While your client may be one of many, to them, you're the only one. Embrace the latter; never give them a reason to be reminded of the former.

"If your shoulder starts to hurt while doing a push-up, the first thing you will do is start making some adjustments to your form. This happens spontaneously and unconsciously. You might slow your speed, move your hands a little bit further apart, or adjust your trunk angle. After a few repetitions of playing around, the shoulder now feels comfortable. Now imagine you are in a class with an instructor telling you exactly how you need to be moving, prescribing the “correct” hand placement, technique, sets and reps. Or worse yet, telling you that you need to stop moving right away and go to the doc. This might inhibit the natural tinkering process that would have solved the problem." (Todd Hargrove, Playing With Movement)

As a manager, it’s natural to want to step in when we see an employee struggling. We know we can leverage our experience to make their lives easier. The trouble is what happens later when we’re not there to provide a step-by-step. They freeze, worrying about remembering the steps instead of feeling out the situation, asking questions, and making their way. The best thing we can do as managers is to teach the fundamentals, leaving enough room for employees to tinker and figure out their version of solving the problem.

The other day, I inflated a balancing disc my mother-in-law got me to keep my feet occupied while sitting at my desk. It's also fun to use for practice balance during a workout. Anyway, as I was nearing the end of inflating it, I noticed it became difficult to see progress in how inflated it was and determine if it was complete.

I'm not sure what it is was about this simple experience, but it made me think about growth in various parts of my life. It was a reminder to keep working toward my goals, even during periods that feel stagnant. Often, you're on the brink of something special, and all you need to do is keep pushing through.