Balancing Act: Praise vs. Criticism

I recently heard an inspiring speech about leadership during which the speaker used Bela Karolyi and Nadia Comaneci as an example of exceptional coaching. (In case you are not old enough to remember, Nadia was the first gymnast to ever receive any perfect score in gymnastics, and Bela was her coach.) The speaker made the point that, after Nadia received seven perfect 10’s in the 1976 Montreal Olympic games, Karolyi did not stop coaching her. The speaker’s point was that the job of a leader is to continue to improve performance, even past perfect, if possible. Perhaps as a result of this, Nadia was able to master some never-before-her moves, like the double-twist dismount.

In contrast to that point is one of the things I talk about in my seminars, which is our inability to enjoy and accept our own achievements. We have a tendency to look for flaws or weaknesses in ourselves and others, always striving to improve, without giving proper credit to what we do well. I think one of the biggest challenges we have as leaders (of ourselves and of others) is to balance those two opposing philosophies. How do we give proper credit to what we do well, (collecting and proudly displaying our own “gold medals,” as it were), and also continue to work toward improvement? How do we celebrate the accomplishments of those we lead, while simultaneously encouraging their diligence in reaching for more?

It’s no revelation that one of our greatest life challenges is to achieve balance. This question of praise versus identification of improvement points is no different. Do you have trouble in one area over another? Do you congratulate and correct others in equal measure? Perhaps more importantly, do you accept congratulations and correction in equal measure? And can you accept an outcome without placing a value judgment on it? Can you say, “This didn’t work as well as I wanted, but next time I will do it another way,” without feeling defeated? (I think of Thomas Edison and his light bulb experiments. It was reported that, when an interviewer asked him if his 2000 failed experiments were discouraging, Edison replied, “I didn’t fail. I found 2000 ways that didn’t work.”) Can you seek improvement without imagining that “room for improvement” implies “failure?”

This week, pay attention to what you did well. Make a list, on Monday, of at least 5 things. They might be things like, “I didn’t cause a traffic accident on the way to work, today,” or “I finished my report on time.” Enjoy them for the week. Then, on Friday, make a list of 5 things you could do differently to improve your outcomes next time, such as, “I will block out 3 hours on my calendar, for two days, instead of using 6 hours in one day to complete my next report.”  Gather your medals, talk about them, display them, and celebrate them. Then keep working, because the joy is in the journey.

Hidden Talents

I just came from a small church service where the worship team was made of only 6 people. As I was singing along to the first song, I was thinking to myself that the music was lovely, but nothing that I would characterize as spectacular. About the time that thought crossed my mind, I became aware of the most beautiful sound. One of the 6 musicians was sitting at the back of the stage, looking down, sitting on a stool, and playing bass. Now the baseline of any song is pretty important, but not very often so amazing that people become known for playing it. Nonetheless, sometimes a bass player is allowed to “riff,” and lay overtop of all the other instruments a lithe, melodic interpretation that highlights that players talent. This was one of those moments, but with none of the fanfare of a typical solo spot. In fact, most of the crowd seemed not to even notice his “solo.”

When I looked back at the musician playing it, I noticed that he sat, himself unmoved, not showboating, not gloating, just working with that bass guitar, as if he were practicing in his own room, not performing at all. When he finished this piece, he went back to playing his more hidden rhythm line, but something had changed. All of players in the group now sounded more cohesive, the two singers more bold, the lead guitar more elegant, the keyboard more graceful, the drums more dynamic. The quality of the music had been elevated, though I doubt anyone playing was conscious of the change. Now, the music truly was spectacular.

What I love most about Nashville is what I think we all love about American Idol, or The Voice, or X-Factor: among the ordinary can be found the extraordinary, virtually hidden, in any given corner. I believe that one of the reasons we are so drawn to the concept of finding “diamonds” amidst all of the other “lumps of coal,” is because we intuitively know that we, each of us, have some hidden, extraordinary talent, just waiting to be discovered. But what if it never is (officially speaking, I mean)?

Some of us go through our days never hearing, “Thank you,” never being recognized for a job well done, and barely even looking up to see if the crowd is paying attention. Yet, our talent, our level of excellence, elevates the work of those around us. We provide support, without even knowing it, by creating an atmosphere where others can shine. We provide the baseline and enjoin our teams simply by doing what we do, to the best of our ability.

I am convinced that any one of those musicians playing could have had that effect on the group, and, no doubt, have done so, at one time or another. Today, I happened to witness it in the bass player, but the truth is that at any time, any one individual can offer his or her talent in such a way as to “raise the bar” for everyone. When any of us do our jobs well simply for the love of the work, or improve ourselves through study or experience, or even just get the proper amount of rest, we set the example for all of us. More importantly, seeing someone excel gives us permission to elevate our own relationships, our own practice, our own self-care, by opening the door to excellence.

You may never be called to the front of the stage, or given an award, or applauded, but I assure you, you do have influence. Please keep sharing with us your talents, however hidden or undiscovered you may feel they are, and know that you are helping to create the spectacular. And, in case you don’t hear it anywhere else this week, Thank You! You inspire me.   

Almost Famous

Hearing of yet another tragic end to an amazing talent, Whitney Houston, made me wonder: what in the world is so attractive about being famous? Theories abound. Tucker Max, author of, “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell,” states that he believes that fame is our society’s most important indicator of power.[1] Dr. Donna Rockwell, clinical psychologist, suggests that fame is, psychologically speaking, parallel in nearly every way to drug and substance addiction.[2] Presumably, then, the allure of fame is the same as the allure of any drug… I want to feel better, stronger, happier, or, yes, more powerful. Dr. Thomas Plant posits that perhaps our own fear of death and the potential lack of relevance of our lives drive our desire to be known, and thus, to matter in some way to the world.[3]

I think, since I came to Nashville with the hope of being famous, that they are all correct. At some point in my life, having felt powerless and unhappy for long enough, I thought fame would solve my problems. I was drawn to the idea of having people smile at me, wanting to be near me, wanting to hear what I had to say (or sing). I would make friends with the world. And I would have the kind of power that would allow me to request everything from my most idiosyncratic preferences (like J. Lo’s request for Heliotrope scented candles in her dressing rooms), to the most generous of donations (when I would make guest appearances on the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon, of course). Finally, because I knew how short life could be, fame would help to ensure I would not be forgotten.

One characteristic about fame that I want to address, however, is that it’s very subjective. In Nashville, for example, we who care about writing songs all know the name Dave Berg. Unless you are an aficionado of country music, however, the kind that scans CD covers for absolutely every bit of information, you probably don’t know or care that he’s written hits like, “If You’re Going Thru Hell,” “Stupid Boy,” or “What Kind of Gone.” Sure, there are those people who have become world renowned, but most fame is more localized, and often fleeting.

While this might seem like a bad thing, it’s actually one of the best things. If you are looking for fame, that is to say, if you are looking to matter to this world, then remember that your world is exactly that, yours. To someone, you are the most powerful, most liked, most well-known in your field. (Haven’t you ever heard a child ask a complete stranger, “Do you know my dad?” As far as that child is concerned, his dad is famous!) Today, redefine “famous,” to mean having or knowing something that allows you to be heard, makes you feel good, and allows you to realize that you matter. Think of those people who listen when you speak, enjoy when you feel happy, and miss you when they are not with you. To them, you are a Super Star.  

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[1] Interview with S. Kauffman, Psychology Today, http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/beautiful-minds/201107/conversations-creativity-tucker-max.

[2] Rockwell, D. & Giles, D.C. (2009). Being a Celebrity: A phenomenology of fame, Journal of Phenomenological Psychology (40) 178-210.

[3] Plant, T. (2011). Could death anxiety be behind our quest for fame? Psychology Today. http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/do-the-right-thing/201102/could-death-anxiety-be-behind-our-quest-fame

Anticipation

That’s it! I’ve found it… the key to happiness! I am absolutely giddy, and do you know what caused it? You might think it’s because I’m eating Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream, or that my jeans went on a little easier this morning, or that I am on vacation, but none of those things are it. I bought a plane ticket, today! I’m going to the beach!

Isn’t it funny? I’m not in Florida. I’m going to be in Florida. Yep. The anticipation of going to Florida has me reeling. And as any child who has ever looked forward to Christmas morning can tell you, the anticipation of all of the great things to come is what has me most excited. I am anticipating drinking Rum Runners. I am anticipating lying on the beach. I am anticipating feeling that warm shower that I take to wash the sand and salt off my skin, and then cranking the tunes in my condo while I put on my make-up to go out for the evening. My body is practically shaking with joy!

Here is what I know: Christmas morning was never as fun as thinking about Christmas morning was. The movie that everyone said that I absolutely had to see was never as good as I thought it would be. And my vacation will be only three nights long, may or may not include good weather, and could possibly result in a sunburn. Still, I cannot wait! And as long as I am excitedly anticipating something, anything at all, I am about as happy as I’ll ever be. Experiences (good or bad) are the rich and wonderful sensation of being human and alive. Memories are often lovely, if bitter-sweet, and good for my inner tranquility. But the anticipation of fabulous things? Now, that’s where it’s at!

One of the things I talk about in my seminars is vision writing. I encourage people to write what they want their future to be. Part of the motivation for that is because I believe that, in order to get what you want, you have to be clear about what you want. Part of it, though, is because the anticipation of living your own dream life is one of the best ways to remain joyful. Furthermore, research shows that people suffering from depression tend to only anticipate negative future experiences, so the anticipation of positive experiences may just be the key to battling the blues.

This week, I encourage you to plan something. Anticipate something positive. No matter how far in the future you have to plan it in order for it to be believable for you (I always feel good when I review my plan to walk up the driveway to my own writer’s cabin in the mountains, for example, but that’s at least 10 years away…), write about or take the first step toward something wonderful! It’s fun to think about what’s coming, what could be, what might be, what will be... And who among us could not stand a little more fun?