An oldy but goody... because the swallows are back yet again...
Belief is Everything. By Emily Osbun Bermes
We have a nest of swallows, this year, in our horse barn. I am fascinated by these birds that fly with more stealth and grace than even the Red Tail Hawks do. I’ve watched these swallows build the nest, and recently populate it with 5 babies.
I recently saw one of our barn cats in full pursuit behind one of the parent swallows who was flying not more than a foot off the ground. She chased the tiny bird at full speed around the back of the barn, and out of sight. I jumped up, in a vain attempt to save the bird I was sure was about to be cat chow. Not 10 seconds later, before my feet had even left the deck, I saw the return of the cat and the bird. To my surprise, the bird was not in the cats’ teeth, but rather chasing the cat so aggressively that the cat ran straight up onto the deck seeking shelter. Not what I anticipated!
Now, you and I both know that the cat could have eaten the bird; and we all know the bird couldn’t have put a dent in the cat (not a very big one anyway). But there are times in life when belief alone can defy the laws of nature, and practical wisdom. The swallow believed he could scare off the cat… and the cat bought it.
Confidence.
No matter who we are, at some point we will doubt ourselves; it’s impossible not to. As a personal coach I’ve worked with individuals who seemed to have it all, yet doubt, for them too, was inevitable. Its one of the common denominators for being human, it seems. And yet, when faced with a challenge, imagine the difference between taking it head-on with the confidence of a swallow with the audacity to attack a cat, or taking it on more like a canary; convinced of your own delicate nature.
People will respond differently to you; depending on which belief you choose to hold about yourself: I see it everyday. “We teach people how to treat us” I’ve heard said so many times; and I honestly believe few things more strongly. If we put ourselves out there with the expectation that we will be successful, respected, listened to, taken seriously… we most often will be. If we put ourselves out there guarded, unsure of who we are, believing we will be eaten alive… we will be. The beliefs we hold about ourselves impact how others treat us dramatically.
Arrogance.
An important distinction begs to be made, however, between confident conviction and utter arrogance. It is a subtle line that most people can spot….. in others. Self-assuredness is the confidence in knowing who you are, what your talents are, and knowing exactly when and how to use them- there is authenticity in confidence. There is very little fear, and a lot of clarity- like for our swallow friend. Arrogance as I see it, is more like a peacock. Insecure, in need of attention, and falsely advertised by a huge plume of deceptively long feathers… underneath it all, a peacock is essentially a turkey, and on some level, I think he knows it. If you are going to put your energy into anything… let it be authenticity and confidence… not plumage.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Life Balance. A Performance-Based Perspective
Life Balance… For Those Who Wouldn’t Normally Consider the Concept.
By Emily Osbun Bermes
Let’s face it; the eighties have been over for some time now- for most of us anyway. Along with the obnoxious clothes and big hair, the “I can do it all, have it all, and be everything to everyone” mentality created in the eighties, has been left behind as well. In retrospect, collectively, we’ve noticed that quality of life does matter, and that having, doing, and being everything mostly left us exhausted and depleted anyway. As a culture we’ve started to recognize that a more healthy life balance might be necessary if we are to ever start feeling good about our lives. We’ve started to recognize that the price of “success” might be too high, and that success is sometimes only bitter-sweet. To gain the job or status you thought you wanted, you might have to give up something more important. So as a culture, we’ve been re-evaluating our priorities, wondering what it would take to really fulfill us, and making choices to that end. Doing it all just didn’t do the trick.
Despite the culture shift, there are still a lot of very successful people running around believing that to be “a success” they need to keep sacrificing everything for that aim. It’s the guy who is working 70 hours a week, talking on a cell phone through lunch, and mentally strategizing the next big deal through his daughters’ soccer game. It’s the woman working 15 hour days only to come home and work another 3 or 4. These folks don’t have life balance.
If for the past 15 years, the more touchy-feely reasons for having a reasonable life-balance hasn’t been persuasive to you, have you considered that a lack of balance might actually be inhibiting your work-performance as well? It’s true. If there is no other reason for you to investigate life balance, look at it from a purely performance-driven angle. A person with a life that is out-of-balance, performs similarly to car whose tires are out of balance. You might not notice what isn’t there, performance-wise, until you have your car maintained. The little pull you’d learned to live with, the watery steering you’ve come to ignore… when fixed, make a performance difference that makes driving that car fun (and safe) again. The same is true for your life. When you instill a healthy balance in your life, you’ll find you perform better than you realized you could- in all arenas.
Life balance, or the degree to which all areas of your life are functioning to a degree that pleases you, is important because they are all tied together. Your work, finances, intimate relationships, family relationships, friendships, spirituality or personal growth, health/wellness, your physical environment and fun (yeah that’s right- fun) all come together to create the life that you experience. Notice, the common denominator is you? The spiritual crisis, the floundering marriage, the disconnect from your children, the painfully obvious lack of fun… all impact you, and you are the foundation for performance. It is as simple as that.
An executive who learns to focus energy and attention, not just on what he or she is good at (usually work), but to focus energy on the things that come less naturally (maybe relationships, maybe cutting loose) actually increase their overall balance, become more fulfilled, and are better able to meet the demands of the workplace-everyday. And they learn to do it with more energy, clarity, and focus. It’s like driving a well-maintained car; you are simply more likely to go the distance if your life has balance.
The significance is this:
Imagine the executive, so loved and respected at work, and her home life is a wreck. That’s a wheel out of alignment. Imagine the manager who is really happy at home and at work, but his he is obese, and this impacts his energy level and self-concept- that’s a tire with low air pressure. Or a CEO who is so disconnected from fun, he’s not sure what he would even do for fun if he had the time- these are bald tires. The analogy here is that you can’t have top performance with any instrument that has not been maintained. You wouldn’t drive your child or grandchild around in a car that had been this poorly maintained, would you? Yet many people neglect their own life to the point that they are not fully able, fully present, or fully responsive to the needs and demands of their complicated lives. Showing up for your life without having properly maintained yourself is a little like driving yourself, and everyone/everything you love around in a car that in a state of disrepair.
So, if for no other reason, consider life balance form a purely performance-based perspective and do a little maintenance on the most important machine you own: you.
By Emily Osbun Bermes
Let’s face it; the eighties have been over for some time now- for most of us anyway. Along with the obnoxious clothes and big hair, the “I can do it all, have it all, and be everything to everyone” mentality created in the eighties, has been left behind as well. In retrospect, collectively, we’ve noticed that quality of life does matter, and that having, doing, and being everything mostly left us exhausted and depleted anyway. As a culture we’ve started to recognize that a more healthy life balance might be necessary if we are to ever start feeling good about our lives. We’ve started to recognize that the price of “success” might be too high, and that success is sometimes only bitter-sweet. To gain the job or status you thought you wanted, you might have to give up something more important. So as a culture, we’ve been re-evaluating our priorities, wondering what it would take to really fulfill us, and making choices to that end. Doing it all just didn’t do the trick.
Despite the culture shift, there are still a lot of very successful people running around believing that to be “a success” they need to keep sacrificing everything for that aim. It’s the guy who is working 70 hours a week, talking on a cell phone through lunch, and mentally strategizing the next big deal through his daughters’ soccer game. It’s the woman working 15 hour days only to come home and work another 3 or 4. These folks don’t have life balance.
If for the past 15 years, the more touchy-feely reasons for having a reasonable life-balance hasn’t been persuasive to you, have you considered that a lack of balance might actually be inhibiting your work-performance as well? It’s true. If there is no other reason for you to investigate life balance, look at it from a purely performance-driven angle. A person with a life that is out-of-balance, performs similarly to car whose tires are out of balance. You might not notice what isn’t there, performance-wise, until you have your car maintained. The little pull you’d learned to live with, the watery steering you’ve come to ignore… when fixed, make a performance difference that makes driving that car fun (and safe) again. The same is true for your life. When you instill a healthy balance in your life, you’ll find you perform better than you realized you could- in all arenas.
Life balance, or the degree to which all areas of your life are functioning to a degree that pleases you, is important because they are all tied together. Your work, finances, intimate relationships, family relationships, friendships, spirituality or personal growth, health/wellness, your physical environment and fun (yeah that’s right- fun) all come together to create the life that you experience. Notice, the common denominator is you? The spiritual crisis, the floundering marriage, the disconnect from your children, the painfully obvious lack of fun… all impact you, and you are the foundation for performance. It is as simple as that.
An executive who learns to focus energy and attention, not just on what he or she is good at (usually work), but to focus energy on the things that come less naturally (maybe relationships, maybe cutting loose) actually increase their overall balance, become more fulfilled, and are better able to meet the demands of the workplace-everyday. And they learn to do it with more energy, clarity, and focus. It’s like driving a well-maintained car; you are simply more likely to go the distance if your life has balance.
The significance is this:
Imagine the executive, so loved and respected at work, and her home life is a wreck. That’s a wheel out of alignment. Imagine the manager who is really happy at home and at work, but his he is obese, and this impacts his energy level and self-concept- that’s a tire with low air pressure. Or a CEO who is so disconnected from fun, he’s not sure what he would even do for fun if he had the time- these are bald tires. The analogy here is that you can’t have top performance with any instrument that has not been maintained. You wouldn’t drive your child or grandchild around in a car that had been this poorly maintained, would you? Yet many people neglect their own life to the point that they are not fully able, fully present, or fully responsive to the needs and demands of their complicated lives. Showing up for your life without having properly maintained yourself is a little like driving yourself, and everyone/everything you love around in a car that in a state of disrepair.
So, if for no other reason, consider life balance form a purely performance-based perspective and do a little maintenance on the most important machine you own: you.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Myth of Perfection
So, recently Guen, one of my fabulously talented colleagues, sent out a mass email … with a typo in it. Now mind you, I’m practically famous for the occurrence of typos in my writing, so you can imagine I didn’t care very much at all. But Guen, an absolute tyrannical typo Nazi, was quite mortified. How can a couple little letters reek such a sense of failure in such a competent, intelligent, wonderful human being? And why is that vulnerability in each of us, even if it isn’t around typos but something else entirely?
Little imperfections get us down because, while professionalism and polish are always important, perfection is simply impossible. Yet it is often the expectation that is communicated to us. Society expects us to be perfect. The media holds up perfect archetypes for us to try to emulate. Misguided parents often project that their love for us is about in proportion to the extent to which we are perfect. And there are always people eager to look at, talk about, or judge the lack of perfection we exhibit, leaving us particularly exposed and vulnerable when our imperfection accidentally shows.
And while it’s not easy to ignore that, it’s at least a little disarming to realize that people who are prone to notice, judge, (and worse) point out, or celebrate the imperfections in others are only doing so to feel better about themselves. Truly, I’ve never met anyone really happy with themselves, truly at peace in their own skin, who felt the need to elevate themselves by taking joy in the imperfection of another.
I heard a commentator on talk radio the other day (no clue which side of the fence he was on if that matters) who said, “You know, I think politicians would come much closer in terms of working together if they’d all admit they’re a little messed up … because we are ALL a little messed up. Like, ‘Here’s what’s wrong with my life, but I’m working on it’ or ‘Here’s what I struggle with, but I’m working on it.’ So that, instead of trying to capitalize on the failures and imperfections of each other, they might actually focus on doing something good together. After all, no one is without a skeleton in the closet. No one.”
Now you and I both know this will never happen. But imagine what it would be like to watch people going around in the work place, in relationships, in families with that level of authenticity. “Hi, I’m Emily, I can’t balance my checkbook but I’m working on it.” “I’m impatient, and a horrific speller, and I’m really really easily bored. My computer skills are lackluster at best, but gosh I’m good with people. It’s nice to meet you.” Or how about even more authenticity. “I’m not actually working on learning to balance my checkbook because I got over caring that I can’t do it!!!!”
It’s a radical thought, I know.
But I think if people got over feeling terrible about their imperfections enough to simply own them, it would sort of liberate everyone to stop pretending to be perfect also. And then maybe, just maybe, Guen could stop beating herself up for the typo and I could stop feeling so inept for needing my 7-year old’s help with my own computer.
So, recently Guen, one of my fabulously talented colleagues, sent out a mass email … with a typo in it. Now mind you, I’m practically famous for the occurrence of typos in my writing, so you can imagine I didn’t care very much at all. But Guen, an absolute tyrannical typo Nazi, was quite mortified. How can a couple little letters reek such a sense of failure in such a competent, intelligent, wonderful human being? And why is that vulnerability in each of us, even if it isn’t around typos but something else entirely?
Little imperfections get us down because, while professionalism and polish are always important, perfection is simply impossible. Yet it is often the expectation that is communicated to us. Society expects us to be perfect. The media holds up perfect archetypes for us to try to emulate. Misguided parents often project that their love for us is about in proportion to the extent to which we are perfect. And there are always people eager to look at, talk about, or judge the lack of perfection we exhibit, leaving us particularly exposed and vulnerable when our imperfection accidentally shows.
And while it’s not easy to ignore that, it’s at least a little disarming to realize that people who are prone to notice, judge, (and worse) point out, or celebrate the imperfections in others are only doing so to feel better about themselves. Truly, I’ve never met anyone really happy with themselves, truly at peace in their own skin, who felt the need to elevate themselves by taking joy in the imperfection of another.
I heard a commentator on talk radio the other day (no clue which side of the fence he was on if that matters) who said, “You know, I think politicians would come much closer in terms of working together if they’d all admit they’re a little messed up … because we are ALL a little messed up. Like, ‘Here’s what’s wrong with my life, but I’m working on it’ or ‘Here’s what I struggle with, but I’m working on it.’ So that, instead of trying to capitalize on the failures and imperfections of each other, they might actually focus on doing something good together. After all, no one is without a skeleton in the closet. No one.”
Now you and I both know this will never happen. But imagine what it would be like to watch people going around in the work place, in relationships, in families with that level of authenticity. “Hi, I’m Emily, I can’t balance my checkbook but I’m working on it.” “I’m impatient, and a horrific speller, and I’m really really easily bored. My computer skills are lackluster at best, but gosh I’m good with people. It’s nice to meet you.” Or how about even more authenticity. “I’m not actually working on learning to balance my checkbook because I got over caring that I can’t do it!!!!”
It’s a radical thought, I know.
But I think if people got over feeling terrible about their imperfections enough to simply own them, it would sort of liberate everyone to stop pretending to be perfect also. And then maybe, just maybe, Guen could stop beating herself up for the typo and I could stop feeling so inept for needing my 7-year old’s help with my own computer.
Give a Little Bit
We went to the Black Pines Animal Park yesterday. They’ve begun their big move/renovation so it’s different and not totally put back together. But the animals are still impressive and the work the place does is still humbling. Over a hundred exotic (and many rather large) animals; big cats, a camel, bears, snakes big enough to eat my youngest … you name it, they’ve got one. All of these animals were rescued from people trying to raise them as pets, circuses or carnivals. And as we wandered around, I was overwhelmed by the immensity of such a facility. I have a heart for animals, but the operation was enormous and, at that, they turn away hundreds of animals a year. The problem, to me, is overwhelming. Feeling that way, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but I notice there is a paralyzing feeling that comes over me in not knowing what to do and in feeling that any action is so small that it is essentially inconsequential. I think sometimes people connect with issues and then do nothing for this same reason. I don’t think so often it’s apathy, but it can look apathetic.
Yet ultimately doing a little is enough. And when people focus on looking for little things to do, the possibilities become apparent. The perspective that a little is enough (and a far cry better than nothing) leads to more action and a sense of empowerment rather than apathy or immobility.
That night, after we visited Black Pine, my son noticed a kitten by the side of our country road as we drove home. We got out and investigated and he and his two siblings appeared to have been a dumped litter. You’d be surprised how many dumped litters we get … kittens much too young to survive on their own and abandoned by their owners.
So we took them home and, after a sinking gut feeling, I went back and found two more in the litter. In total, five little kittens, gorgeous, being smothered with love from my kids until we can find them homes. It felt so good, so empowering, to do something … even though I know it’s not even a dent in the scheme of things.
Whatever your cause is, I encourage you to look for ways, even little ways, to do something. Deciding to do something leads to action, action is empowering, and empowerment feels good and does make a difference.
Consider the man who combed the beach tossing stranded starfish after starfish of the thousands that lay dying on the beach back into the ocean. When questioned what difference he thought he could possibly make because his actions seemed so futile, he threw a starfish back into the ocean and simply stated, “I made a difference to that one, didn’t I?”
We went to the Black Pines Animal Park yesterday. They’ve begun their big move/renovation so it’s different and not totally put back together. But the animals are still impressive and the work the place does is still humbling. Over a hundred exotic (and many rather large) animals; big cats, a camel, bears, snakes big enough to eat my youngest … you name it, they’ve got one. All of these animals were rescued from people trying to raise them as pets, circuses or carnivals. And as we wandered around, I was overwhelmed by the immensity of such a facility. I have a heart for animals, but the operation was enormous and, at that, they turn away hundreds of animals a year. The problem, to me, is overwhelming. Feeling that way, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but I notice there is a paralyzing feeling that comes over me in not knowing what to do and in feeling that any action is so small that it is essentially inconsequential. I think sometimes people connect with issues and then do nothing for this same reason. I don’t think so often it’s apathy, but it can look apathetic.
Yet ultimately doing a little is enough. And when people focus on looking for little things to do, the possibilities become apparent. The perspective that a little is enough (and a far cry better than nothing) leads to more action and a sense of empowerment rather than apathy or immobility.
That night, after we visited Black Pine, my son noticed a kitten by the side of our country road as we drove home. We got out and investigated and he and his two siblings appeared to have been a dumped litter. You’d be surprised how many dumped litters we get … kittens much too young to survive on their own and abandoned by their owners.
So we took them home and, after a sinking gut feeling, I went back and found two more in the litter. In total, five little kittens, gorgeous, being smothered with love from my kids until we can find them homes. It felt so good, so empowering, to do something … even though I know it’s not even a dent in the scheme of things.
Whatever your cause is, I encourage you to look for ways, even little ways, to do something. Deciding to do something leads to action, action is empowering, and empowerment feels good and does make a difference.
Consider the man who combed the beach tossing stranded starfish after starfish of the thousands that lay dying on the beach back into the ocean. When questioned what difference he thought he could possibly make because his actions seemed so futile, he threw a starfish back into the ocean and simply stated, “I made a difference to that one, didn’t I?”
Memorial Day
A man and his 14 year old daughter came to pick up my dad’s horse from our farm today. My dad had long since lost his desire to ride, and longed to rekindle his lost love-affair with sailing. So we had boarded his mare for nearly a year until a better situation could be found for her. Today, she went with her new family. A perfect 4-H horse project for a young girl with a soul for horses and the calming effect that a guarded horse like this would need.
Hope was the name my father had given her. A 9-year old Quarter Horse with a sketchy background and the given name of Athena for the Goddess of War. One look at her stunning, fiery trot and you’d understand her given name. She had a tendency to snort and huff and trot like she was floating on air when agitated … which was often. She was beautiful and made of fire. But Hope, time would tell, would ultimately be a better name and seemed to define so much of what sustained her and those who loved her.
A bright bay with black mane and tail and a white mark, the shape of Africa, on her forehead, she was no fighter… more of a watcher … the anxious observer of her own life. Her odd history with my family too long to repeat, she found herself with my father again a few years ago, only to experience two very life-threatening episodes of something that even the best research veterinarians at Purdue could not identify. Long nights my father had spent with the mare, literally willing her back to health for days. I watched my father prepare himself to euthanize her with both incidents, holding off on instinct, only to see her turn around in the night and recover from this mysterious illness twice. I watched him lay vigil to his mare, laying hands on her, giving her the only thing the vets could not … his intense, compassionate love.
Now, two years later, she goes … not by death, as all bets would have assumed, but in an attempt to keep a young horse working, having a job, having a human who needs her. This fourteen year old seemed a fit better than anyone had really hoped for. A good match. A good decision.
But even in parting on good terms, there is something to grieve. My 5-year old daughter, though she’d never really ridden her, had developed an affinity for her in the time that she’d been here. She wasn’t a child’s horse by nature but, just the same, my daughter had grown to love her presence on our little farm and she grieved with an intensity I’d not expected the day the mare left.
Her immediate instinct, her way of making sense of what she could not control or understand, was to draw. She immediately asked for her art supplies and paper and drew and authored a memorial book for Hope. She drew her over and over and wrote the small phrases her limited spelling vocabulary would allow. “I love you, Hope”. “I miss you, Hope”. “Hopie Girl” as my father had always called her. Sheets upon sheets of paper nearly covered with hearts, X’s and O’s all speaking what she could not articulate in her spoken words. It was, for her, cathartic.
I’m never not taken aback at what my kids do naturally to heal and honor themselves and their experiences. I am also struck at how difficult it can be for adults to see and acknowledge what is needed on the emotional level in times of stress, loss or crisis in order to grieve when something is lost or endured. A death, a divorce, a business venture gone awry. To survive the perfect business storm, or your own personal 40 days in the dessert … these experiences are so common that some of them seem nearly universal. Yet, as adults, our learned tendency is to muddle through, bury the grief and fear, ignore the tax these things take on us and march on as best we can, wounded or weary perhaps … but still walking.
Without processing the deep emotions that quietly rule our personal and professional lives, we cannot ever completely move on from loss, crisis or demise. When all is said and done, and grieving is allowed to take place (whatever that looks like), you will inevitably be left with hope … the only thing I’ve ever known to universally follow grief and the one thing within us that is impossible to destroy … no matter what the loss.
A man and his 14 year old daughter came to pick up my dad’s horse from our farm today. My dad had long since lost his desire to ride, and longed to rekindle his lost love-affair with sailing. So we had boarded his mare for nearly a year until a better situation could be found for her. Today, she went with her new family. A perfect 4-H horse project for a young girl with a soul for horses and the calming effect that a guarded horse like this would need.
Hope was the name my father had given her. A 9-year old Quarter Horse with a sketchy background and the given name of Athena for the Goddess of War. One look at her stunning, fiery trot and you’d understand her given name. She had a tendency to snort and huff and trot like she was floating on air when agitated … which was often. She was beautiful and made of fire. But Hope, time would tell, would ultimately be a better name and seemed to define so much of what sustained her and those who loved her.
A bright bay with black mane and tail and a white mark, the shape of Africa, on her forehead, she was no fighter… more of a watcher … the anxious observer of her own life. Her odd history with my family too long to repeat, she found herself with my father again a few years ago, only to experience two very life-threatening episodes of something that even the best research veterinarians at Purdue could not identify. Long nights my father had spent with the mare, literally willing her back to health for days. I watched my father prepare himself to euthanize her with both incidents, holding off on instinct, only to see her turn around in the night and recover from this mysterious illness twice. I watched him lay vigil to his mare, laying hands on her, giving her the only thing the vets could not … his intense, compassionate love.
Now, two years later, she goes … not by death, as all bets would have assumed, but in an attempt to keep a young horse working, having a job, having a human who needs her. This fourteen year old seemed a fit better than anyone had really hoped for. A good match. A good decision.
But even in parting on good terms, there is something to grieve. My 5-year old daughter, though she’d never really ridden her, had developed an affinity for her in the time that she’d been here. She wasn’t a child’s horse by nature but, just the same, my daughter had grown to love her presence on our little farm and she grieved with an intensity I’d not expected the day the mare left.
Her immediate instinct, her way of making sense of what she could not control or understand, was to draw. She immediately asked for her art supplies and paper and drew and authored a memorial book for Hope. She drew her over and over and wrote the small phrases her limited spelling vocabulary would allow. “I love you, Hope”. “I miss you, Hope”. “Hopie Girl” as my father had always called her. Sheets upon sheets of paper nearly covered with hearts, X’s and O’s all speaking what she could not articulate in her spoken words. It was, for her, cathartic.
I’m never not taken aback at what my kids do naturally to heal and honor themselves and their experiences. I am also struck at how difficult it can be for adults to see and acknowledge what is needed on the emotional level in times of stress, loss or crisis in order to grieve when something is lost or endured. A death, a divorce, a business venture gone awry. To survive the perfect business storm, or your own personal 40 days in the dessert … these experiences are so common that some of them seem nearly universal. Yet, as adults, our learned tendency is to muddle through, bury the grief and fear, ignore the tax these things take on us and march on as best we can, wounded or weary perhaps … but still walking.
Without processing the deep emotions that quietly rule our personal and professional lives, we cannot ever completely move on from loss, crisis or demise. When all is said and done, and grieving is allowed to take place (whatever that looks like), you will inevitably be left with hope … the only thing I’ve ever known to universally follow grief and the one thing within us that is impossible to destroy … no matter what the loss.
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