Total Control

I hate the new age affirmation, "if you can dream it, you can do it".  No you can't.  I'm never going to run a 4 minute mile.  I'm not going to dunk a basketball.  Nothing I can do about it; totally outside of my control.

But what I CAN control is limitless.  Can I eat right?  Can I exercise?  Can I take time to relax?  Can I help out more in the kitchen?  Can I spend time with the kids?  I usually don't need to achieve remarkable dreams.  Most of what matters is totally within my control.

Without pictures, I can't read

I just read Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything.  The author, Joshua Foer, is a journalist who decides to explore the world of "mental athletes"--people who compete in national and international memory contests.  These "athletes" try to out-do each other memorizing dozens of random numbers, one or more decks of shuffled playing cards, and nonsense poems in annual contests.  Joshua learns from the World Champion that none of these "mental athletes" are especially gifted or brilliant.  He learns that the methods are thousands of years old, first documented by the ancient Greeks, and that any reasonably intelligent person can learn them.  Over the next couple of years, Joshua gets trained by the world champion and wins the United States Memory Championship.

The methods involve use of images.  Preferably outlandish images.  The "mental athlete" imagines these images  stored in various places within a location they know well--a childhood home, a school, a familiar street.  The locations are called "memory palaces".  All the mental athletes rely heavily on images in memory palaces, whether they are memorizing random digits, decks of cards, speeches, or poems.

I found the book fascinating but did not see how I could apply it for anything that really mattered to me except for one thing:  reading fiction. As I read Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything, I think I figured out why I don't enjoy fiction as much as many other people, including my wife Chris.  As I read fiction, I don't visualize any of the characters.  I don't picture the surroundings or the action.  I don't hear the voices.  I just read the words.  And my lack of visualizing probably explains why I keep forgetting the characters and the plot.  I keep getting lost and then lose interest.

Chris, on the other hand, tells me that she constantly pictures the characters in far more detail than the author spells out.  If the author says, "She read her husband's journal", Chris tells me that she immediately imagines a woman pulling open a drawer in the dresser, pushing aside socks, finding a black leather journal, opening it, and realizing that it is her husband's diary.  Based on what I read in Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything, I imagine this helps Chris remember the characters, their situations, all the past events, dialogue, action, and so on so that she never gets lost, never loses track of what is happening.  She stays focused and engaged.  I may never be able to visualize the story as well as Chris naturally does.  But if I make an effort, I'm sure I can do much better than I have and, doing so, I can regain the joy of being unable to put a book down.

Freedom: the Currency of Teenagers

I often wonder with my teenage boys how to get them to care about the things that I feel are good for them, that I want them to master before they leave my home, but which currently they could not care less about.  Eating fruits and vegetables.  Learning to consciously relax and even to meditate.  Building certain social skills.  These are things that they might learn later, but there are no guarantees of this and if we could cultivate these habits while they are under our roof, we'd be more confident that they would become lifelong habits.

So how to perk their interest?  Explaining the benefits of fruits and vegetables, of relaxation, of exercise, of self-awareness, and so on may have some value.  Maybe years from now they'll remember what we said.  I think a parent's words often make an impact years after the same words were ignored.  But how do we know that they won't ignore our advice for the rest of their lives?  How can we motivate them to develop good habits while they still live at home with us?

But I got a new idea from a fine book, Getting it Right with Teens, by Madelyn Swift.  Swift has a general rule for dealing with teenagers.  Their currency is freedom.  They want to make their own choices.  This is the reward you can always hold out for them if you want them to do something.

If there is an area in their lives in which you'd like them to make responsible choices--such as what they eat--you start off by making choices for them.  "This is the food I'm cooking.  It is nutritious, and I'm doing the best I can to make it tasty.  But I'm not giving you many choices yet about what I'm cooking.  You want freedom? You want to eat whatever you want?  I want that too.  I want you to make your own choices because you're going to be making them soon in college and other situations where I'm not around.  I'd love to 'get out of your hair'.  But first I need to see you make responsible choices.  Because I have to make sure I do what is best for you as a parent, even if you're not thrilled about it at first.  But trust me.  We have the same goal.  I want you to be free.  But first, work with me.  Eat some fruits and vegetables and we'll quickly expand your freedom, let you slip in junk food, let you tell me what to buy at the grocery store.  You'll love the freedom, and I'll love feeling like you're likely to make good choices when you are on your own."

In every aspect of teenage life--dating, going out with friends, eating, deciding when to do homework and when to slack off, decorating your room, what to do with free time--hold out the promise of freedom, of autonomy, of establishing your unique lifestyle in return for responsible behavior that keeps your teenager safe, healthy, successful, and happy.

Not Just Sales

The "sales" analogy has been useful for me at work.  The notion that I can't tell the plant sites what to do, and that I need to respect their autonomy, has--ironically--accelerated acceptance of my projects.  

But the "sales" analogy isn't perfect.  I have SOME authority, SOME right to be heard.  Although I'm demanding less, although I recognize that plants have final say over how they run their businesses, there are times when I have had to assert myself.  My programs have enough leadership support that I can push for a response, remind sites of leadership choices, escalate issues to hierarchy, and challenge false statements.

Some of this happened this last week.  I was pleased with myself for calling plant managers, disagreeing with leadership in meetings, and demanding that some meetings happen earlier than the sites wanted.  This worked well for me.  I was able to push forward two stalled projects, and I think my forcefulness persuaded some leaders to buy into my position.  I still recognize that ultimately the sites can always say "no" to my projects.  They might get in trouble for this if my project has strong leadership support, but they can still say "no" and I believe I need to make sure that the sites feel my respect for their autonomy.  But this isn't a pure salesperson-customer relationship.  We are teammates working for the same firm.  What they can't do, what makes this different than pure sales, is that they can't slam the door.