The first game of the day is just getting started when my occasional nemesis, Rick from Ukraine, starts doing that controlling thing he does. You know – telling people where to position themselves, moving everyone around, and making sure his team is the strongest on the court. This drives me crazy! Where I come from, you always try to set up the teams as evenly as possible in order to maximize the chances of having the closest game possible. Sadly, hyper-competitive Rick (who does NOT like to lose) rarely sees it this way. Compounding things is Rick’s communication style which is, shall we say, blunt. It’s not unusual to hear him blurt out something like “You’re no good”, “You can’t hit” or “I no set for you.” Again, I come from a different school of thought – one that strives to build people up via encouragement and affirmation. I’m also an unrepentant advocate for the underdog. So when Rick starts laying into my friend, Steph, about her supposedly poor passing skills, I kind of snap. Soon I’m yelling at Rick, he’s yelling back at me, and before I know, I find myself storming off the court, declaring “I cannot play with this guy.”

Pretty immature stuff, huh? What was I thinking (or not thinking)?!!

And yet, what was I to do – just stand there and take it? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. In fact, there seems to be 5 distinct methods for managing toxic relationships, both at work and at play. They are:

Remain a victim to it

Change it

Change your perspective of it

Accept it

Leave it

Obviously in this particular scenario on the volleyball court, I chose method #5 – I left the situation, Although, in retrospect, I wish I could have handled things more calmly and reasonably, my choice was a valid solution. I couldn’t change Rick’s behavior and I couldn’t accept it, so I got out of there.
Let’s take a closer look at the five methods.

Remain a victim to the relationship: The most passive approach, playing the victim includes accepting a feeling of loss of control. It means reconciling yourself to powerlessness, uncontrolled anger, grief and sometimes depression. Remaining a victim is the path of least resistance, to be sure, but it also decreases our energy and drains us until we feel like nothing is left.

Change the relationship: A more proactive approach, this method involves trying to find a common point of agreement with the other person that enables the relationship to continue on at an at least neutral level. If you can pull it off (through stellar communication), the relationship can often be shifted for the better. The key is for all parties involved to move from WIIFM (What’s in it for me?) to WIIFU (What’s in it for us?).

Change the relationship by changing one’s perspective of it: Rather than changing the relationship with actions and new behaviors, this approach asks you to modify and shift your own way of looking at things. How can you see the other person from a new vantage point? What qualities of him or her can you appreciate?

Accept the relationship: In this strategy, you suspend your judgment of the relationship, releasing all stress and burden. You accept the relationship as it is – as an experience that does not require anything. You’re simply at peace with where the situation is at the moment.

Leave the relationship: If you don’t like a relationship, and you can’t change it, remain in it, change the way you look at it, or accept it, you’re only remaining option is to leave/terminate it. Sometimes the individual chemistry and make up of two individuals is such that we simply cannot co-exist in a relationship. This is not good or bad, it just is.

After the volleyball game, I went up to Rick and let him know that I like and respect him off the court (which is true) but don’t share his values on the court. I then suggested that we don’t play together for a while. It didn’t feel great – in general, I’m a peace maker. In a perfect world, I would’ve found that common ground with Rick and we would’ve patched things up. But not everyone is ready or willing to change. Sometimes you just have to get out…to surround yourself with your peeps. Life is too short to swim in toxic waters.

Bookstores make me happy in an old-fashioned sort of way, and coincidentally, they’re also cram-packed with books about happiness. In the near future, I expect all shop owners to devote an entire section to “Happiness Books”, so consumed are people with this pursuit of personal bliss. Life and liberty – those values promised by our political forefathers – meh! What we all want is happiness, and we want it now.

The question is, where does happiness really come from, and how do we get more of it in our lives? Certainly big houses and fancy cars don’t seem to be doing the trick. There’s a reason, after all, that psychiatrists make such a good living in the West, especially those who work with the most affluent. If the accumulation of “stuff”, then, doesn’t necessarily lead to proven happiness, what does?

According to interfaith scholar and Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast, happiness starts with just three simple verbs: “Stop, Look, Go”. If these words sound familiar, that’s because they’re what many of us hear from our parents when we are first learning how to cross the street. “Stop at the corner, look right and left, and only then, go.” As Steindl-Rast explains in his fascinating TED talk about happiness, we too – as adults – need to slow down and stop rushing through the intersections of our life. When you stop, you open your senses to the richness of life. When you look around, you become aware that life is made up of a series of moments, one after another, each filled with potential. And in each moment, you receive an opportunity to do something. Whatever the moment offers, take that opportunity and go with it.

Steindl-Rast has been described as the Guru of Gratefulness. Throughout his talk, he suggests that it’s not necessarily happy people who are grateful but conversely, it’s grateful people who become happy. Significantly, some of the people with the most misfortune in their lives are also the happiest. Think Steven Hawking, the celebrated physicist who has stated on numerous occasions that his disease (ALS) led him to use his brain in mind-bending ways that he wouldn’t have before his illness. Or Pete Best, the former Beatles drummer (later replaced by Ringo Starr) who appears happier now, in his 70s, than he ever was as a young musician in Liverpool. Says Best: “That’s yesterday. Forty years ago. What’s important is what’s happening today and tomorrow. When you realize that, you get on with it.”

Steindl-Rast’s recipe for happiness is simple: Build more stop signs into your life. Slow down. Appreciate the moment. This is not to suggest that we should be grateful for everything. We don’t have to be thankful for war, violence, oppression and exploitation. But we can be grateful for the opportunity that arises in the face of negative events – the opportunity be patient, the opportunity to learn something, the opportunity to stand up for our convictions. And the great thing is, if this moment isn’t to your liking, there’s always another moment coming right along. And another. And another.

Gratefulness can change the world.

• If we’re grateful, we’re not fearful. If we’re not
fearful, we’re not violent.

• If we’re grateful, we act from a feeling of
enough. If we have enough, we don’t feel
scarcity.

• If we’re grateful, we appreciate others and respect
their diversity.

So consider this a challenge. Today, build at least 3 “stop signs” into your work schedule… 3 times when you stop what you’re doing and just look around and appreciate. Perhaps you appreciate your work space. Or the fascinating problems you get to solve every day. Or the amazing people that you work with. Or the opportunities you have, moment to moment, to learn something – both about yourself and the world.

Your workplace is an airport bookstore. Take a moment to browse the “happiness section”. You’ll be grateful for the change it makes in your life.

Given that over 120 million viewers were watching the end of Super Bowl XLIX this past Sunday, the chances are fairly good that at least some (if not most) of you witnessed the puzzling play calling from Seattle Seahawks’ coach, Pete Carroll. Here was the situation. Down by four points with less than a minute to play in the fourth quarter, the Seahawks have possession of the ball with one yard separating them from the end zone and, most likely, their second consecutive Super Bowl victory. The common-sense call is to run the ball with Marshawn Lynch, a bowling ball of a human being with the nickname “Beast Mode”. Lynch who, on the previous play, pounded ahead for four yards, has already run for over 100 yards in the game, demonstrating time and again that the Patriots can’t mount much resistance when a short gain is required of him. Everyone in the stadium (including this writer) is expecting a safe, off-tackle plunge from Lynch. But then something remarkable happens; the Seahawks’ brilliant young quarterback, Russell Wilson, unexpectedly drops back for a pass and slings the ball over the middle in the direction of wide receiver Ricardo Lockette, knifing towards the goal line. Against all odds, Patriots cornerback Malcolm Butler steps in front of Lockette and intercepts the ball, essentially ending the game and handing New
England their 4th Super Bowl victory.

What could Pete Carroll have been thinking?

TV sportscaster Chris Collinsworth was obviously thinking the same thing when he exclaimed:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe the call. I cannot believe the call. You’ve got Marshawn Lynch in the backfield. You’ve got a guy that’s been border line unstoppable in this part of the field. I can’t believe the call… I don’t believe it. I’m sitting here and I absolutely cannot believe that play call. If I lose the Super Bowl because Marshawn Lynch can’t get in from the 1-yard line, so be it. So be it. But there is no way… I don’t believe the call.”

Like much of the sports media, I have to agree with Collinsworth’s assessment – ostensibly, Carroll’s call was a mistake. The odds certainly were strongly in favor of running the ball with Lynch. But Carroll apparently saw things differently. In a press conference after the game, Carroll calmly explained that for the play in question, New England had sent in their “goal-line package”, expressly designed to stop the run. Explains the coach:

“We easily could have gone otherwise. But when they sent their goal line guys in, I know that we have the advantage on the matchups in the passing game, so let’s throw it. It’s OK.”

If Carroll’s decision had worked out, great! The Seahawks pass for a touchdown and everyone calls it one of the gutsiest, out-of-the-box calls in Super Bowl history. And if it fails (as it did), Carroll and Wilson are goats of the highest order, those crazy gunslingers who cost an entire city a chance to celebrate.
What did you think of the call?

For me, the interesting question is not whether the play was a mistake or not, but rather, what Seattle is going to make of it going forward. It would be easy (and not unprecedented) for Seahawks owner Paul Allen to fire Carroll outright, laying all the blame on the coach’s shoulders. In the NFL in particular, winning is everything; coaches have a fairly short leash. It’s “win now or pack your bags.”

America certainly venerates its winners and vilifies its losers. Consider the case of poor Bill Buckner, a star baseball player whose error in game six of the 1986 World Series cost the Red Sox a championship. The city of Boston has never forgiven Buckner for his mistake, essentially running him out town — completely forgetting the player’s hall of fame statistics earned over a long, distinguished career. One wonders how the city of Seattle will treat Carroll and staff over the next few weeks and months.

As mentioned, Carroll hasn’t really apologized for his mistake. He’s sticking with the argument that “doing the predictable thing” didn’t get his team to the Super Bowl. The Seahawks live by the unexpected and die by the unexpected. I get it. What interests me is how Carroll is spinning things with his players. After all, once a coach has lost the locker room, his days as the team leader are over. If the Seahawks, in their disappointment, rise up as one against Carroll and his coaching staff, pointing fingers at the men responsible for their Super loss, it could be a slippery slope for Seattle back to mediocrity.

As a leader, Carroll’s task is to remind people that there are no mistakes; there are only learning opportunities. So what work (and life) lessons can the coach and his team harvest from this year’s Super Bowl loss? How about:

• Whether you win or you lose, you have an opportunity to display class and character.

• When you have a philosophy you believe in (in this case, unpredictability), you stick with it, whatever the consequences.

• As good as it feels to be on top, you often learn more about yourselves when you’re dropped down to the bottom. We certainly feel more compassion and empathy for the world’s down-trodden masses when we’ve taken a hit ourselves.

You get the idea. In the short term, the Seahawks are undoubtedly feeling sad and disappointed this week. After all, they’ve been deprived of their much-anticipated winner’s high. But in the long term, losing DOES build character and engender insight. The most successful people on the planet see opportunity in all experience, enjoying the process no matter what happens. In fact, true visionaries often enjoy when things don’t go exactly as planned; they love serendipity, as it usually opens the door to a new options and possibilities.

Can Pete Carroll successfully convey this message to the Seattle Seahawks? Given what I know about his established rapport with his team, I’m guessing yes. It probably doesn’t hurt, as well, that each player on the losing squad of the Super Bowl gets a $49,000 bonus for simply appearing in the big game. So much for the “downtrodden masses”.

The Zen master — bald, 70 years old, with wisdom lines twinkling around his eyes — famed throughout the country for his sage teachings, responds: “Visit me again in one month. During that time, meditate 90 minutes a day.”

Satisfied, the samurai agrees and departs. Thirty days later, he returns to the temple in Kyoto and explains to the master, with some frustration: “I have done as you requested, meditating over an hour and a half per day. But I feel no closer to satori (enlightenment).”

The master replies: “Visit me again in two months. During that time, meditate three hours a day.”

Determined to make progress towards his salvation, the samurai once again agrees. Two months later, he returns to the master’s temple, even more frustrated than before. “Master, I don’t understand. For 60 days I have done exactly what you requested; for three hours a day I’ve meditated, and yet I feel I am no closer to satori!

Nodding gently in acknowledgment, the venerable Zen master responds. “Let us have some tea and play a game of chess while we ponder this. But if you want my help, you must agree to my terms. The result of our chess game will be a matter of life and death. The winner will survive. The loser will submit himself to the axeman and sacrifice his head on the chopping block.”

A man of war, confident in his strategic abilities, the samurai agrees and the chess game begins.

Both players are equally matched, skillfully countering each other, move for move. After some time, however, the samurai suddenly realizes that the game has swung in his favor. In two moves, he can achieve a checkmate–and save his head. With his hand on the chess piece that will assure his victory, the samurai pauses and weighs his options:

“I’ve have achieved much in life, but I am only a soldier. This master has written scholarly tracts; he has traveled far and wide, lecturing on the Buddha and the dharma and improving peoples’ lives. As old as the master is, he still has many more years of service left to him. And what have I to offer? His life is more valuable than my own.”

And with that, the samurai takes his hand off the chess piece he was touching and makes a different move, one that will help the zen master win. Wide eyed, the master reaches under the chess board and flips it over — pieces flying this way and that across the room. Jumping to his feet, he takes one stride towards the startled samurai, thrusts a figure up at the general’s chest and exclaims:

“NOW you are ready to learn!”
——————————————

As we all step into the new year, I think it’s important for us all to think about our goals and resolutions. What are we hoping to achieve this year, and how is our entire life in alignment with our actions? Are we saying one thing and yet doing another?

The samurai in the story aspires to peace and enlightenment while continuing to lead a life of war and violence. His actions contradict his ambitions. Perhaps you want to lose weight and get healthy this year but find yourself still sneaking Snickers bars in the breakroom. Or maybe you’re dedicated to creating a more engaged team culture but you continue to ignore the feedback from your staff’s surveys.

Like the samurai, we would all do well to consider not only what we’re doing in our personal lives and at work, but also who we are. If we model a competitive, dog-eat-dog mindset, can we then expect our team mates to practice enthusiastic cooperation and collaboration?

Fortunately for us, most of our resolutions do not have life or death consequences, as they do for the samurai in the story. But certainly our actions have costs…psychic costs. What is the current status quo in your life costing you in terms of gray hairs and lost sleep?

In this season of change, let’s all commit to integrating our speech with our actions, our goals with our lifestyle. It could just be the move that saves you.

Over my 20 years of v-ball Sundays, I’ve been repeatedly astonished by how uncannily the game parallels life and, most particularly, the psycho-social dynamics in the workplace. Take for example the topic of motivation. As I see it, there are three types of players on the volleyball court at any one time, namely:

The Recreationist

The Competitor

The Glory Hog

The Recreationist’s motivation is merely to get outside, grab a little exercise and enjoy socializing with other players. Improving her skills or achieving the “thrill of victory” is of relatively low priority for this kind of person: just being out in the park, running around and shooting the breeze with folks is more than enough to satisfy a Recreationist.

The Competitor’s goal is more aggressive, ie. “Just win baby!” A successful day for a Competitor is comprised of a series of winning matches, all of them delivering a delicious release of adrenaline. Losing is simply an unacceptable outcome – just a bad, bad day in the park.

The Glory Hog cares little about socializing, getting in shape, or even winning. His aim is basically to be the star player, the hero. In volleyball, that often translates to hitting lots of un-returnable spikes. Unlike the Competitor, who knows his winning high is dependent on his whole team playing together as one, the Glory Hog is mainly concerned with his own, individual ego boost. As long as he hits his shots and secures his moments of heroism, who cares if the team wins or loses?

Does this any of this sound familiar to you? Who in your office is just happy to be hanging out and socializing? Who is the hyper-competitive team member, the one who sees life as a battle to win? And who is the prima donna, caring only about increasing his own status? My guess is that you could peg all three personality types in your office after only one game of watching your co-workers behave on a volleyball court. (Hmm, what a good interview practice that might be!)

My point is that at work and at play, people show up with agendas. Of the three “volleyball personalities” mentioned above, only the Recreationist has control of her own experience. As long as people are willing to talk with her (not always a given, but usually so), she can enjoy her afternoon. By contrast, the Competitor needs participation and effort from the whole team in order to get that winner’s high. And the Glory Hog has it worse; if people don’t set him well, he can’t hit his spikes and grab the hero’s medal.

Whenever you come into a situation with an agenda that relies on the performance of others, you’re putting yourself into a difficult spot; with other people involved, there’s simply no way to assure that you’re going to get what you came for. But what if you shifted your perspective, from outside to inside? What if you treated each volleyball afternoon, each day at work, each 24 hours on the planet as a series of self-determined opportunities? Here’s how this might work:

Opportunity #1: No matter what happens today, I can always work on something new …whether it’s a new skill, a new technique, or a new way of talking/listening to people

Opportunity #2: No matter what happens today, I can always practice and improve on an existing skill or ability.

Opportunity #3: No matter what happens today, I can always learn something about myself and the world.

The beauty of the “Three Opportunities” is their flexibility.

Let’s say you’re on the volleyball court and your team is continually losing. No problem –you shift your attention to that new spiking motion you saw on YouTube.

Or let’s say you’re not getting set consistently for spikes. Not a big deal; you focus, instead, on improving your current footwork and passing, or perhaps your communication and leadership skills.

Or how about if you’re just having one of those uncoordinated, two-left-feet sort of days, and nothing is going right. Easy. You transfer you attention away from physical performance to emotional mastery, learning more about the nature of your own negative self talk, and how you might counter it.

How might your life be different if you said to yourself every morning:

“Today I refuse to dwell on my mistakes, errors, or frustrated ambitions. No matter what life throws at me, today I will see only opportunities and celebration. The goal for today is to try new things, refine old skills, and learn as much as I can about myself, others and the world. And that will be a great day guaranteed.”

That sounds like a big volleyball spike of a day to me, something you can control no matter what happens. Give it a try! It may just change your life.

A native Montrealer now splitting his time between Toronto and Boca Raton, my 79-year-old Uncle Stan — a tall bear of a man with a clipped grey hair and a short, white Hemmingway-esque beard — takes traffic combativeness to an all-new level. During a recent jaunt with him around his native city, I watch my uncle avert no less than 7 surely-fatal accidents with split-second maneuvers that would have impressed Mario Andretti, narrated hilariously by Stan’s incessant flow of Yiddish expletives.

“Take that you putz!” my uncle exclaims as he darts in front of a silver Honda with inches to spare.

“Don’t you tailgate me, you schmuck!” he bellows at a black BMW which has dared to venture within five feet of our bumper.

Although I have my eyes squeezed shut in terror for much of our journey, I have to give credit where credit is due; despite his antics, Uncle Stan gets us across town (and all the way to the Laurentian Mountains) in good time and in one piece. Admittedly, some of Stan’s comments are pretty funny, in a Woody Allen movie kind of way, but looking back, I have to wonder, what kind of mindset might have inspired this kind of manic driving behavior. Surely combativeness is not infused in the Montreal water supply.

Seeking a solution to this puzzle, I turn to my mom for insight.

“Oh, my brother’s always been like that”, she replies. “Argumentative! A know it all! You should see what he’s like when he’s playing bridge. Completely cut throat!”

Gradually a picture of my Uncle Stan’s approach to life begins to emerge. From my uncle’s perspective:

The world is an arena.

It’s dog eat dog out there.

If I don’t knock down my opponents, they’ll take advantage of me.

If I fight, I might take some bruises but at least people will respect me.

In the game of life, there are winners and losers; I always make sure the other guy is the loser.

This way of thinking would certainly explain his driving patterns.

But does it have to be that way — for Uncle Stan…and for all of us?

How might things be different if we could all raise our energy above a continual attitude of competition and start looking for opportunities both to collaborate and to serve? What might life look like if we co-created win-win (rather than “I win/you lose”) situations?

The thing is, viewing the world as a boxing match isn’t just harmful to your “opponents”; it rebounds back on you as well, diminishing your relationships, increasing stress (and cortisol in your body), and cutting you off from potential new connections.

With a shift in perspective, here’s what my dream road trip with my uncle my might one day look like:

“Hey Uncle Stan, that guy just cut you off!”

“Yes, Dave, he certainly did. But did you notice that his lane was ending. I’m guessing that he just noticed his predicament; we wouldn’t want him to get squeezed off of the highway, would we? Imagine how that would stink for him, getting re-routed away from his destination.”

“Okay, that makes sense. But what about that woman tailgating you? You going to let that stand?”

“You know, I don’t really care for that kind of driving; it’s dangerous and if I had to make a sudden stop, we might have a collision. However, there’s not much I can do about it except keep on driving at my current speed. Eventually she’ll get frustrated and go around me, which will be better for everyone.

“But won’t she beat you down the road of life.”

“Look, I’m sorry that she’s in such a hurry that she’s putting everyone at risk, but who knows what her situation is? Perhaps she’s got a sick child in the hospital. In any case, all I can do is take care of my own, calm driving. We’ll get to our destination when we get there. There’s no reason to be a putz!”

What a different trip that would be.

“But wait just a second,” you say. “I’m only an admin…or a mid-level manager…or a soccer mom. I’m no leader.”

This is an understandable reaction, to be sure – and yet completely inaccurate. Leadership is much more than the title you hold or the position you maintain in the company pecking order. Leadership, in fact, is how you interact with everyone, including yourself. Everyone — is a leader, either by choice or default. Leading is the way we help move people, including ourselves, into action. It’s the way we influence others. The question is not whether or not we are leaders, but how well we lead.

As for the “organization” piece, organizations are not limited solely to business. All of the groups, teams, and people around you are organizations, too. Organizations are the colleagues you work with and the family you go home to. Your organization includes all those who are grouped within your many circles of influence. Each of us is a part of many organizations.

So the question isn’t “Am I leader in my organization?” but rather “What kind of an organizational leader do I want to be?

“Everything Is Energy and That’s All There Is To It. Match the Frequency of the Reality You Want” — Albert Einstein

Catabolic and Anabolic Energy

More than a hundred years ago, Einstein addressed the scientific community with his revolutionary idea that everything we see, hear, taste, touch, and smell is not matter, but energy. In short, everything that “matters” is energy.

On an energetic and cellular level, catabolism usually refers to a breakdown of complex molecules, while anabolism is the opposite. When you hear about a person’s catabolic or anabolic energy, however, it’s a broader statement about the destructive and constructive forces alive within an entire person — not only one’s individual cells but also one’s anabolic and catabolic thoughts and beliefs.

Anabolic and Catabolic energy are predominant in organizations as well as in people. Who hasn’t worked in an organization characterized by catabolic energy, where employees consistently react to their circumstances with worry, fear, doubt, anger, and guilt? In case you haven’t noticed: thoughts are contagious. In a catabolic organization, when even a few people have negative feelings, those emotions can spread like a virus, “group think” sets in, and peoples’ thoughts become group “fact.” Once that occurs, the company can implode energetically in a swirl of gossip, negativity, conflict and contempt. What a mess!

The most successful organizations, by contrast, are those filled with powerful, positive, anabolic leaders, Anabolic leaders have the ability to motivate and inspire themselves and others to do extraordinary things; they have the ability to make energetic shifts in all levels of the organization. No matter how effective or ineffective you currently are in your role (at work and at home), you can transform yourself and others — as well as your organization — into a thriving, inspired, positive, productive, and successful entity.

Three Questions to Ask Yourself About Your Personal Energy?

1) When life throws up a challenge, do I judge it as “bad” (catabolic), or do I welcome it as an opportunity (anabolic)?

2) When I have a fight with a colleague or my significant other, do I take responsibility for my part in the conflict (anabolic), or do I reflexively cast the other person as the villain (catabolic)?

3) When faced with a problem, do I struggle mightily to come up with a solution (catabolic), or do I have easy access to my “higher coach”, where infinite creativity and innovation (anabolic) resides?

None of us are fixed entities. At any time, at any moment, we have the ability release the latent anabolic energy that lives there within us, right under the surface. We can ALL be anabolic leaders in our “organizations”. All it takes is a subtle shift in our perception – the willingness to say “I can!” and “I will!”

(With thanks to www.ipeccoaching.com)

[Editor’s note: If you’re interested in learning more about your own levels of catabolic and anabolic energy (both in your normal state and under stress), I highly recommend taking the The Energy Leadership Index (E.L.I.), administered by Dr. Clue and offered with a 1/2 discount for subscribers to this newsletter. This one-of-a-kind assessment enables “leaders” to hold up mirrors to their perceptions, attitudes, behaviors, and overall leadership capabilities. It takes about 20 minutes to fill out, followed by a 60-minute phone debrief.

For more information about the E.L.I (including pricing), drop me a line at 707-544-1014 or dave@drclue.com ]

Luke Skywalker: I can’t keep the vision out of my head. They’re my friends. I’ve gotta help them.

Yoda: You must not go!

…

Obi-Wan: Patience!

Luke: And sacrifice Han and Leia?

Yoda: If you honor what they fight for, yes!

Obi-Wan: If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. I cannot interfere.

Luke: I understand. R2, fire up the converters.

Obi-Wan: Luke. Don’t give in to hate. That leads to the Dark Side.

Yoda: Strong is Vader. Mind what you have learned. Save you it can.

Luke: I will and I’ll return. I promise. [flies off with X-Wing]

—————————————

Do you remember this scene from the second Star Wars movie, The Empire Strikes Back? (1980) The young Luke Skywalker finds himself at a crossroads, faced with the hero’s eternal dilemma: stay and complete his training, or rush off (before his education is complete) to try and save his friends. As you can see above, Luke chooses to leave Master Yoda’s tutelage well before fully mastering his Jedi skills, hurrying off to battle with Darth Vader before he’s actually up to the challenge. As a result, let’s just say that Luke has his lunch (and his hand) handed to him on a platter.

Although we have no Death Stars to destroy back here on planet Earth, no black-clad, heavy-breathing villains to vanquish, we nevertheless find ourselves continually in predicaments similar to that of Luke’s. Time and again, we hurdle ourselves into competition prematurely, often well before acquiring full proficiency at our desired skill, technique or art. And what happens? Repeatedly, we fail to achieve our greatest potential, our highest level of excellence.

I recall a similar situation a few years back when I first took up volleyball. On my first day out there, an experienced player took me aside and helped me learn the basics of bumping and setting. Looking back, I wish I had insisted on my friend giving me even more drills and skills practice before ever letting me set foot on the court. But that’s not how it worked out, of course. I insisted on jumping right into a game, anticipating the giddy, competitive high, the adrenaline rush that I’d always felt when playing other ball sports. The result, of course, was that I never completely learned how to play the game of volleyball—at least not properly. Not only did my less-than-optimal form eventually lead to shoulder and back issues, but I experienced a high degree of emotional stress and anxiety along the way. After all, my perfectly-understandable rookie mistakes were costing my team points, and my hyper-competitive teammates weren’t appreciating it! The shame…the humiliation. Not only were my muscles mis-learning the basic skills of the game but my cellular memory was absorbing the negative, self-directed, catabolic feelings and emotions associated with my mistakes. And here’s the scary thing: whenever I’ve made similar mistakes again – often years later — those same unhappy, stressed-out emotions have come right back to me. Seemingly the body remembers everything—feelings and all!

So what to do about this? I suggest 3 easy steps to increase overall excellence and performance in nearly every endeavor, both at home and at work, namely:

Patiently hone your skills before jumping into competition. As enticing as it may seem to leap right into the fray, resist the temptation. Lay down your base skills first. Learn as much as you can at the feet of your Yoda while the opportunity presents itself. Take your time and learn each step completely before moving on to the next.

Develop perseverance. Sometimes you’re just not “feeling the joy”, especially when progress is slow. Nevertheless, keep on “going through the motions.” Each time you go out and practice, you etch and integrate new knowledge and abilities into your cellular memory.

Love your game. Whether its volleyball, Jedi training or the latest version of PowerPoint, develop a passion for what you’re doing. Be intensely curious about your practice. With love, passion and curiosity comes self-motivation. And with increasing mastery comes joy, satisfaction and self-esteem — completely independent of competition.

We all crave immediate gratification. Of course we do. We can’t help it. Our fast-paced, competitive culture urges us to buy that new, tasty candy bar at the grocery check-out counter…purchase that new, flashy iPOD with all the bells and whistles. Jump into the game before you’re ready. Move quick! Don’t wait! Imagine, however, what might be possible in life if we just slowed down and concentrated on becoming a master at something …anything…with no rush to compete, no urgency to strut our stuff for extrinsic rewards. How would this attitude transform your workplace productivity? Your hobbies? Your relationships? Everything!

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Luke: You want the impossible.

[Yoda uses the Force to levitate Luke’s X-Wing out of the bog.]

Luke: I don’t… I don’t believe it!

Yoda: That is why you fail.

With thanks to Brett Zeller, author of Evolutionary Education: Moving Beyond Our Competitive Compulsion, Wingspan Press, 2009

It’s funny how the things we learn in elementary school stick in our heads and take on an element of “truth” as we get older. As far back as I can remember, for example, my teachers told me that I should *never* talk to other students while taking a test, for that would be *cheating*.

They had a point, of course. At that time in our lives, we all needed to learn how to do things ourselves; we needed to test our own limits, develop self-discipline, work independently, and discover of what we were capable.

For many (if not most) of us, however, this message has carried over into our adulthood – and most especially into the workplace. It continues to be highly appropriate to do your work alone; talking to others is somehow breaking the rules … a demonstration of weakness.

This is hardly surprising when you stop to consider that back in the day, teachers often graded on a curve. In a very real sense, your classmates were your competition. If you tried to help another student during a test, not only might you get busted for cheating, but their success would bring down your score. In the “arena” of the public school system, then, it was a dog-eat-dog world; if your classmates won, you lost.

Although old habits die hard, they don’t have to rule your behavior–especially as an adult in the workplace. We can choose to view others and ourselves in a different, more productive, dare I say more enlightened manner. Consider these 7 Attitudes Towards Competition, namely:

1) I lose

2) You lose

3) I win

4) You win

5) We win

6) We all win or no one wins

7) There is no winning or losing

At level one, you’re a victim weighted by apathy; you see the world as asserting its influence on you, rather than the other way around. No matter what happens, you’re going to lose; the deck is stacked against you. Why even bother trying? Life is a losing hand.

At level two – one slight step higher on the energy ladder – you’ve now at least got your boxing gloves on. In a world of conflict, anger and defiance, resources are always scarce, but you’re ready to fight for them. Although you may not win all the time, by golly you’re going to make sure that the other sucker loses. Anyone who spends a lot of time driving on the freeway at rush hour knows intimately what level-two behavior looks like.

At level three, cooperation has finally emerged as a viable option. With more self-awareness, you begin to comprehend that winning is at least possible without other people losing. Oh sure, you definitely still want to come out on top, but you don’t mind if other folks do okay as well.

At level four, you’ve risen energetically to the point where you recognize the pleasure and worth in seeing others succeed. Core values like concern, compassion and service rise to the fore, but with a blind spot. If others don’t recognize and appreciate your efforts, you might drop back down to level two and become angry and resentful at those awful “ingrates”.

At level five, you’re feeling a much higher degree of peace, acceptance and reconciliation. Your ego has reduced to the point where you find yourself actively seeking win-win situations, collaborating and cooperating with others for mutual benefit.

At level six, you’ve run with this idea a step further. You now recognize that there is no winning unless everybody wins.

And at level seven – well, I like to think of this as the Matrix (“There is no spoon”) level. You’ve completely seen through the illusion that people are separated and disconnected. Winning and losing are just convenient fictions, easily dispelled. Competition has gone out the window. We are all one.

So where do you fall on the competition spectrum? How about your co-workers? Your organization as a whole? What mental adjustments can you start making today to begin boosting your attitude to higher and higher energetic levels? Imagine a world where you get compensated not for beating out the competition, but for helping others achieve co-prosperity. No win, no lose, all thrive. What a joy that would be–and it’s possible!

(with thanks to Bruce D. Schneider, Energy Leadership, 2008)

To provide some context, running is still something of a novelty for me, an activity I hadn’t even considered over the last 25 years of sore knees, weight gain and a leg imbalance that forces me to wear a 1-inch lift in all of my left shoes. Although I love to exercise (bicycling, volleyball, gym workouts), there are some sporty things – or so I thought – that I simply DON’T do, and running was one of them. This all changed a few months ago when, for preventative health reasons, I revamped my dietary habits, eliminating dairy, processed foods of all types, gluten…and, oh yes, meat. Whether it was the ensuing weight loss or the resultant decrease in joint inflammation from some aspect of my new eating regimen, I have certainly enjoyed a most unexpected result: my knees just don’t hurt anymore. Putting this new phenomenon to the test, my girlfriend (a lifetime runner) suggested we go for a little “jog” in the park, just to see how it goes. Agreeing (somewhat reluctantly), I hit the trails and found myself, amazingly — on only our second outing — able to jog a 3-mile course without stopping. More runs were to follow, each a little longer than the one previous, leading up to my most-recent triumph just 3 days ago: a 6+ mile jaunt up and down hills that even mountain bikers fear — no knee pain, starting slow but finishing like a champ, the theme to Rocky tripping off my tongue.

Imagine, then, my frustration at yesterday’s “setback”. I mean, isn’t progress supposed to be a linear path? Didn’t my parents and teachers tell me that if only I apply enough effort, intention and self-discipline, I will move forward at a steady, measurable pace, piling success upon success? As if! The reality, it seems, is somewhat different from this childhood, motivational message. What I rediscovered yesterday is that progress is rarely a straight-forward journey. Sometimes it’s more like one like one step forward and two steps back; or even three steps sideways! The trick is to keep things in perspective, to modulate your expectations, to take it as it comes – safe in the knowledge that the general thrust of one’s efforts is forward, even if detours arise along the way.

Looking back now, with a day’s worth of perspective, I can see a variety of reasons for yesterday’s athletic struggles. I had not gotten enough sleep. My legs were probably a bit sore from playing volleyball over the weekend. I had, uncharacteristically, eaten a bag of popcorn (no butter added!) during the day. And I’d had a challenging day in general, feeling a bit on overload at work, my internet connection still down (after 5 days!) on my main computer. Although any or all of these factors certainly played a part, the fact is that no one can always perform at their optimal level, every second of every day. We all have “off moments”. The key is to give yourself a break, allowing yourself to be imperfect, and understanding that although an experience can be your teacher it doesn’t have to be your master.

Despite my dismay, despite the negative “gremlins” rumbling in my head, telling me I was a “loser”, insisting I was letting down both myself and my girlfriend, I didn’t stop running yesterday. What a great “classroom” this was for me to learn about my mind and the messages it throws up at me when frustrated and under pressure! Looking back, I realize now that this was not my strongest run, but it might have been my best. I didn’t give up. I didn’t allow myself to treat it as a failure. I finished the run. My afternoon was a success.