Morning Run -- Here Comes the Sun (And I Say It's Alright?)

This morning's run was rushed, with anxiety and worry in hot pursuit, feet slapping the still-cool concrete.  I had to hurry, because I couldn't be late for an early-morning meeting with an important person to talk about a possible career shift.  That's nervous-making stuff for a measure-your-life-out-in-coffee-spoons person like me.  Then I came across these desert blooms, almost set ablaze by the rising sun.  Sun, sun, sun.  Here it comes.  In the valley of heatstroke, that's not necessarily a good thing.  But the beauty of the scene gave me a boost.  That, and I found another lucky penny.  Must be a sign.  Both lucky pennies came along in my suit jacket to my meeting.  Sure didn't hurt.



The Metaphors, They Find Me

I'm out of town and out of pocket this week, immersed in a week-long leadership training course at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern. Fascinating stuff. Spent the day getting at least a flavor for what it would have been like to go to business school.

On a break, I literally made a run for it -- down along a path that hugs the lake. It was blustery, cold and gray -- and lovely. What to my glazed over eyes should appear, but a flock of kites, trapped in the air. I stopped in my tracks and was blown away (blustery, I tell you) by the symbolic significance--at least to a metaphor hunter like me. About a dozen kites caught in a stand of leafless trees, blowing in the wind, but going nowhere. Abandoned. So vibrant against the lifeless gray sky and yet-to-leaf trees. Took my breath away.

Ever feel like a trapped kite against a lifeless backdrop?

Wordle Fun

Oh the fun you can have with Wordle!  You paste in text, and it creates a word cloud, sizing the words based on the number of times they appear in your text.  I'll bet you can guess the poem I used for this Wordle.  And there's the message, big and clear: 

time.

Mission Impossible

I'm working on a potentially brain-stupor-inducing training presentation for client employees and looking for ways to spice it up.  As you know, I love a good metaphor more than just about anyone.  How's this to introduce the potential perils of tricky settlement negotiations? 

This clip originally comes from an old BBC documentary called Daylight Robbery (from the 1990s), but here it is being used by a beer company.  Not sure what lager has to do with the squirrel's amazing abilities, but that's a beer commercial for you . . . .

Stare Into the Circles and Take a Deep Breath

I volunteered as the "art helper" in my kindergartener's art class yesterday.  Because I needed to be at the school at 11:10, it didn't make sense to drive all the way downtown to my office.  So I worked from home.  Well, actually, I mostly sat in my home office at my desktop and pondered on the question of what else I could do with my life that would use my skill set and all the years I've invested in my career but allow me to live a more creative life. 

With this on my mind, I walked into the art room and discovered that the class would be learning about a Kandinsky painting.  Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944) is actually one of my favorite artists.  I just like the look of his paintings.  (I remember first being drawn to him when I stumbled upon a certain room at the Art Institute of Chicago many, many years ago that was displaying several of his paintings.)  But I also really like him because he was a lawyer in Russia and used painting as a stress reliever.  I am also a lawyer, am of Russian descent, and use art as a stress reliever. 

I couldn't help but take this as something of a sign.   

I'm currently reading/listening to a book that examines (among many other things) the idea of a person's self split into two -- through a traumatic event or other life experiences.  In truth, none of us is just one person.  We each have many faceted aspects that congolmerate to form the whole we call "self."  That is certainly true for me.  (You can't help but know this about me if you read this blog.  Vocation/avocation.  Two roads diverging.  Dare to eat a peach?) 

For now, I get my fix by carving out (a lot of) time (1) to read books that have nothing to do with my profession and (2) to make (a lot of) art with my kids.  Abandoning all reason to take up residence as the permanent "art helper" at the elementary school is tempting on a certain level (I'm not trying to brag or anything, but the art teacher DID say I can come help every day if I want . . . .).  But I somehow don't think that's the solution.  I'll just have to settle for cameo art helper appearances for now.

Wednesday's Word -- Encourage

Fortitudo by Botticelli

I'm not afraid to admit it.  I'm an introvert.  And I have two daughters who are too.  Ironically, I expend all sorts of effort trying to encourage them toward extroversion.  In truth, I don't know that you ever transform an introvert into an extrovert, bibbety bobbity boo.  Some pumpkins are just pumpkins.  

Despite the coaching I impose on my daughters, though, introversion is not a disease.  In many important ways, it's an asset.  While I don't expect (or even really wish) to change them, I do very much want to instill a confidence in them that the world can't shake.  When the moments call for it, I want them to stand up, and speak with strong, intelligent voices.  That ability can indeed be nurtured and developed.

So the word I'm thinking about today (with daughters braving the back-to-school world) is:

Encourage

This is one of my favorites, because it's the kind of word that you've seen and used countless times, but yet you've probably never really seen it for what it is.  Break it apart.  It is en and courage.  The prefix en means in or within.  The word courage means the state or quality of mind or spirt that enables one to face danger or fear with self-possession, confidence and resolution.   Courage comes from the Indo-European root kerd, meaning heart.  So, to encourage means to instill courage (or heart) in another person.  And on the flip-side, to DIScourage means to take it out.

In a real sense, that is what a parent tries to do for a child -- to pour heart into that child until it overflows as goodness, kindness and virtue, and the child can face all manner of dangers with a self-possession that shines like a well-polished shield.   

Choose Your Own Adventure

When I was a kid, I went through a stage during which I read every Choose Your Own Adventure Book I could get my hands on.  The first books in the series were published starting in 1979 when I was 7 years old, and they were perfect for my little inquiring mind.

Of course I cheated and would retrace back to the page with the decision point when I didn't like the outcome.  Sometimes I would make really bad choices on purpose just to see what would happen.  It was a book, and I could do that.   And pretty much anything could happen.  You could choose to visit friends in France where you might rent a hot air balloon and hop in.  Then you could choose what direction to fly, and when you met with trouble, you could choose to engage in peaceful negotiations or attack, swim for the shore or wait for rescue.  Depending on where your choices led, you might even end up drifting away into space, where the lack of oxygen leads to your demise.

Anyway, I've always been interested in choice and consequences.  In possibilities and change.  In hope and regret.

Along those lines, here are a handful of photographs of some of the beautiful doors I chanced upon while traveling in the Mediterranean this summer.  I like to think about what might be on the other side of each.

Tunis, Tunisia

Amalfi Coast, Italy

Cinque Terre, Italy

Tunis, Tunisia

Malta

Do I Dare to Eat a Peach?

These beloved words from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" have been keeping me company today:

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I often referred (lovingly) to my late cat as "Prufrock."  He would meow and meow until I opened the sliding glass door to the back porch.  Then, with the wide world at his paws, he would tentatively stick his head out to sniff outside, with the rest of his body safely in the house.  He would do the hokey-pokey, putting one foot out, then pulling the foot back in.  Sometimes, he would eventually put his whole self out, except keep his tail in so I couldn't close the door.  If I waited long enough, sometimes he would finally step outside into the night air, and I would quickly close the door to keep the bugs out.  Within seconds, that silly cat would be standing against the door, whole furry body pressed with outstretched limbs and open, pink mouth against the glass -- begging to get back in.  

"Okay, Prufrock.  Come back in.  No peaches for you today," I would say.  

My Prufrock is gone, and I lost a kindred spirt.  I'm not losing my hair (and thus have no need to part it "behind").  I'm not even all that old yet (at least according to me).  I don't wear white flannel trousers, and I certainly don't have enough free time to walk on the beach.  I don't generally deliberate over my fruit choices.  

Oh, but I DO deliberate over life's equivalents.  And today, I'm particularly tortured.  I've made up my mind and changed it a dozen times.  

One way or another, I will either eat the peach or cast it aside by mid-week.  And then I will move on.  At least that's what I've decided for tonight.  


May 12 Post Script:  I decided not to eat the peach.  (If you're curious, the "peach" (and the "horse" too) was a job offer.)

Wednesday's Word -- Serendipity

Have you ever wanted to come up with a word that makes it into the dictionary and even into people's conversations?  The English author, Horace Walpole, did just that when he coined the word "serendipity" back in 1754 in a letter to a friend.

I'm a word lover, but this word stands out as having a particularly interesting story.  Horace came up with the word based on an old Persian fairytale called the Three Princes of Serendip.  (A long time ago, the country now known as Sri Lanka was called Serendip.)  The story is about three young princes who have a talent for making discoveries while searching for other things.

The word "serendipity" tends to be used these days as almost synonymous with luck or chance.  One dictionary defines the word to mean "the faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident."  But that's not how it was originally intended.  The princes were actually very observant and wise, almost like Sherlock Holmes-type detectives.  They had their eyes open to all possibilities as they traveled.  

Here's the very short version of the story.  Long ago, in the far away country of Serendippo, there was a king who had three sons.  The king asked each son to take his place as king, and each of the princes declined.  The king wasn't really upset about this, but he pretended to be, and sent them away from the land, thinking they had lived too sheltered a life, and an experience abroad would enrich their education.  While abroad, the princes had all sorts of adventures where they are able to use their sagacity (quality of being discerning, sound in judgment, and farsighted) in surprising ways.

For example, in the best-known of their adventures, they encounter a merchant who has lost a camel, and--although the princes never saw the camel--they are able to describe it perfectly, down to its very unusual characteristics.  Based on their observations of little details like the pattern of grass eaten from the side of the road, tracks, footprints and drips of food and urine, they (amazingly) deduce that the camel is lame, blind in one eye, missing a tooth, carrying a pregnant woman, and carrying honey on one side and butter on the other.    

Walpole coined the word "serendipity" to describe this special talent for discovering things you never set out or intended to discover -- not through luck really, but through keen observation.  If the princes had been in a rush to get somewhere or just didn't really have their eyes open to their surroundings, they wouldn't have made the discoveries they made.

When I started this blog, one of the contradictions I identified about myself is that I have a "desire for serendipity, despite my inability to stop measuring my life out in coffee spoons."  After chewing on the word "serendipity" while writing this post, it occurs to me for the first time (aha!) that serendipity and calculated, deliberate living are not mutually exclusive.  Serendipity does not mean traipsing through life, stumbling upon happy wonder after wonder.  Serendipity actually means traveling your path with your eyes open wide so that you don't gloss over the details right in front of your nose, and being willing to alter your path based on what life offers you.

I like that.  That kind of serendipity sounds doable -- even for me.

Look at that!  I discovered something fortunate and unexpected.  Now that's serendipitous.  

Wednesday's Word -- Secondment

This week, I'm thinking of a word you may not have heard before:  Secondment -- pronounced (si-kund-ment), with the emphasis on the second syllable.  I couldn't even find the word in the dictionary, but here is the definition of the verb "second," as in "seconded" (si-kund-ed) and "seconding" (si-kund-ing).

Secondment

To be "seconded" means to be transferred temporarily to another post.  In the spirit of daring, I agreed to be temporarily "seconded" to one of my firm's big clients on a part-time basis (for the purpose of better learning the client's business), starting this week.  It will be an adventure, I tell myself.  

The word "second" (in all its forms) is actually quite an interesting word.  You probably don't give the word a second (ha) thought because it's so commonplace.  

You don't settle for second best, don't like to play second fiddle and hate to be second-guessed.

You get upset if someone treats you like a second-class citizen.

You'd rather hear the news directly instead of second-hand, 

Second-hand clothing is sometimes second-rate.

Second-hand smoke is bad for your health.

A second language can come in handy, but it will never be as natural as your native tongue.

Bad habits become your second nature.

When you make a rash decision, you may have second thoughts.

For the most part, "second" is subpar.  At its root, the word second means "to follow."  If you're second, you're subordinate.  But the good thing about "second" is that it helps.  It arrives as your second-wind, just when you can't take another step or continue on your own.  On second thought, second is good. 

If you could, wouldn't it be nice to be "seconded" (temporarily transferred) to some other life for a day or two or three?  That, or have someone seconded into your life to help you do all the things you'd rather not?  Or someone to simply say "amen!" and "I second that" when you seem to be standing alone without a supporting voice to be heard? 

  

Wednesday's Word -- Dare

I have noticed that a number of blogs include "Wordless Wednesday" posts.  I thought I'd try a twist on that idea and focus each Wednesday on a word I like or find interesting.  I am an admitted word nerd.  I like how words look on a page.  I like how they feel in my mouth.  And I love their power to describe, persuade and inspire. 

I remember when I first discovered the Oxford English Dictionary.  I was so amazed with the volumes and volumes, and word leading me from word to word, like a complicated family tree.   I spent a whole day immersed in them, not even pausing to eat.  I couldn't believe such a wonder existed.  Decades have gone by since that day, and life has changed me in so many ways.  But that love of words remains, and colors just about everything I do -- from the way I practice my profession to the way I teach my children. 

So, with that, here's my first word post for 2010.

dare

I've decided to start with the word "dare," because I've chosen it as my "word" for 2010.  You have probably heard about the idea of choosing a word to guide your year, rather than committing to a long list of resolutions.  If you haven't, here's a good post on the idea.  

I chose the word "dare" because the words of a favorite poem keep scrolling through my mind:

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
. . .
Do I dare 
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
. . . 
For I have known them all already, known them all:--
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."  I don't know that I'll "disturb the universe," but I sure have "measured out my life with coffee spoons."  I have responsibilities and oh so many obligations.  Alas, I live The Love Song of J. Everett-Garcia.

I've chosen "dare" for the year, because my life is too carefully measured.  By dare, I don't mean that I'm going to jump from an airplane or climb Mount Everest.  But I do mean that I will seek out new experiences, get out of my comfort zone, and be willing to take some risks.

Dare is a simple word.  It means "to be courageous or bold enough to do or try something."  It comes from an indo-european root meaning "to venture, be bold."  I like the word "venture." It's short for "adventure," and the noun is defined to mean a "daring undertaking or journey."  The verb "venture" means "to attempt without any certainty of success."  Dissecting a bit, the word "adventure" comes from an indo-european root meaning "to go, come" (based on the Latin venire).  I particularly like that the word encompasses both the coming and the going; the departure and the return.  The same root creates the words "welcome" and "become" -- being open and willing to change.

So, in 2010, I will focus on daring.  Welcoming new experiences and perspectives.  I'll go, and I'll come back, and see what I can learn along the way.  And I'll share at least some of it here.  Maybe 2010 holds adventure in store for you as well!