"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."
-Albert Einstein
6.14.2013
The Season of Great Expectations
Vacations, Vacations!
Why must you court us
With
False expectations?
-Author (thankfully) Unknown
A few months back, while researching an upcoming trip to Italy, (woo hoo!!!!) I found myself reading all kinds of travel literature. Much of it was fun and exciting, but after a while it just got too overwhelming. So after slogging through endless declarations of must-see's and stays in southern Italy, (I know, it's pure drudgery, I tell you!) I was delighted to come across a refreshing article, "Cape of High Hopes," in the March issue of Travel and Leisure Magazine.
While the author, Editor-At-Large Peter Jon Lindberg, never mentions a word about Italy (at least in this article,) he does eloquently describe the potential pit fall of any vacation endeavor: grandiose expectations of the "perfect" trip.
I don't know about you, but when I plan for a trip, especially to uncharted territory, I get really excited. I become entranced in a sort of perfectionistic rhapsody, romanticizing the upcoming vacation to the point that it can never live up to my supernatural, ecstasy-inducing vision. It's as if my penchant for conjuring up wonderful possibilities (a great talent to have as a career coach, mind you) goes a little nutso-bonko and ends up biting me in that area-where-the sun-don't-get-to-shine.
But then I read this almost therapeutic article about becoming aware of these expectations and am now determined to outsmart my bullish idealism during future travel. I won't summarize Lindberg's elegant insights into not-so-elegant bullet points; instead, I'll just let you enjoy this lovely piece for yourself. His perspective is a great way to approach anything, really, whether it be vacations, careers, or life choices.
(FULL DISCLAIMER: Don't go thinking that this is THE best article in the whole WORLD. Because I'm not going to be the one to overly inflate your expectations.)
But DO enjoy!
-Katie
http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/when-a-vacation-disappoints.html
6.04.2013
The Strength of Kindness
Discovering people's greatest strengths is probably the number one reason I love what I do. I feel like a treasure hunter sometimes, thrilled at the prospect of uncovering some hidden talents (or, more likely, a unique combination of talents) that someone possesses.
And yet I'll admit that there is one strength- oftentimes learned but sometimes generously bestowed on a few individuals- I tend overlook in the midst of the other more "lucrative" talents. This strength is, simply put, a capacity for kindness. It is one of the most important aspects of a person's potential, but so often gets way too little attention. After all, no adult would think of putting "I am kind" on their resume or business card or use it as a selling point in an interview. Yet how refreshing and effective is this trait to have in our working environments? We all know that when a person is both good at their work and displays kindness to others that she becomes a super star. Through simple acts of generosity, she leads with integrity and positively influences the workplace.
I wonder if many of us are actually born to bestow kindness, but as we grow older we stop being as outward with our care taking. We gradually build up our competitive spirit to the point that our gentle souls diminish, and our nurturing inclinations take a back seat. We learn to put on an adult armor that shows we mean business, masking that tenderness we may have shown freely as children.
A very touching article in Guideposts Magazine reminded me of that pure, unadulterated kindness that children can bestow. Jennifer Hubbard, mother of Sandy Hook elementary school student, Catherine Hubbard, wrote an insightful and touching essay about her daughter, Catherine, age six, who was one of the children who tragically died in the December 2012 shooting. Reading this mother's words (albeit through tears) prompted me to remember what a gift kindness is, and how we cannot ever diminish its power or grow out of our own inclination to share it. Ms. Hubbard allows us to glimpse into young Catherine's life, which centered around her immense capacity and understanding of kindness, even at the tender age of six.
Here is a brief excerpt from this story:
"She could be shy around adults, like lots of little girls. With animals or other kids it was another story, especially with animals. She came alive with love, our own miniature flame-haired Dr. Doolittle. It was as if she couldn't contain her need to care for every living thing.
How many hours did Catherine spend in the backyard with her friends patiently training our old yellow Lab mix to jump over a stick? Hugging her. Picking her up, though she weighed twice as much as Catherine. She had a thing for critters-her pet bunny, her fish, the crickets in our yard on lazy summer nights, even the worms. Butterflies were a big deal. She'd gasp with delight when one landed on her hand, which they always seemed to do. Maybe it was because she'd whisper to them, 'Tell all your friends I'm kind.'
Yes, kind. Catherine knew what she was and how precious kindness is in this world.
Not long ago she made her own business cards with Catherine's Animal Shelter across the top. Care Taker, she wrote under her name. She handed them out to friends and to her first grade teacher at Sandy Hook. [My husband,] Matt and I smiled at her sense of purpose.
She was never without some kind of animal, usually one of her unbelievably huge collection of stuffed toys. She piled them around her on the bed at night. In the morning she always picked one to put in her backpack for school, as if she had to have something with her to care for, even a stuffed animal."
As tragic and heartbreaking as it is to know that such a lovely life has been cut horribly short, I'm hoping to let Catherine's example of open tenderness remind me to better appreciate kindness: In myself, in my clients and in my own gentle, tenderhearted daughter as well.
Note: Catherine's parents created a memorial in honor of their daughter's love for animal rescue. They requested that any donations be sent to their local animal shelter. To date, with the generosity of hundreds of supporters, Catherine's vision is now becoming a reality. The Catherine Violet Hubbard Animal Sanctuary is under way!
And yet I'll admit that there is one strength- oftentimes learned but sometimes generously bestowed on a few individuals- I tend overlook in the midst of the other more "lucrative" talents. This strength is, simply put, a capacity for kindness. It is one of the most important aspects of a person's potential, but so often gets way too little attention. After all, no adult would think of putting "I am kind" on their resume or business card or use it as a selling point in an interview. Yet how refreshing and effective is this trait to have in our working environments? We all know that when a person is both good at their work and displays kindness to others that she becomes a super star. Through simple acts of generosity, she leads with integrity and positively influences the workplace.
I wonder if many of us are actually born to bestow kindness, but as we grow older we stop being as outward with our care taking. We gradually build up our competitive spirit to the point that our gentle souls diminish, and our nurturing inclinations take a back seat. We learn to put on an adult armor that shows we mean business, masking that tenderness we may have shown freely as children.
A very touching article in Guideposts Magazine reminded me of that pure, unadulterated kindness that children can bestow. Jennifer Hubbard, mother of Sandy Hook elementary school student, Catherine Hubbard, wrote an insightful and touching essay about her daughter, Catherine, age six, who was one of the children who tragically died in the December 2012 shooting. Reading this mother's words (albeit through tears) prompted me to remember what a gift kindness is, and how we cannot ever diminish its power or grow out of our own inclination to share it. Ms. Hubbard allows us to glimpse into young Catherine's life, which centered around her immense capacity and understanding of kindness, even at the tender age of six.
Here is a brief excerpt from this story:
"She could be shy around adults, like lots of little girls. With animals or other kids it was another story, especially with animals. She came alive with love, our own miniature flame-haired Dr. Doolittle. It was as if she couldn't contain her need to care for every living thing.
How many hours did Catherine spend in the backyard with her friends patiently training our old yellow Lab mix to jump over a stick? Hugging her. Picking her up, though she weighed twice as much as Catherine. She had a thing for critters-her pet bunny, her fish, the crickets in our yard on lazy summer nights, even the worms. Butterflies were a big deal. She'd gasp with delight when one landed on her hand, which they always seemed to do. Maybe it was because she'd whisper to them, 'Tell all your friends I'm kind.'
Yes, kind. Catherine knew what she was and how precious kindness is in this world.
 |
| Catherine's Business Card |
She was never without some kind of animal, usually one of her unbelievably huge collection of stuffed toys. She piled them around her on the bed at night. In the morning she always picked one to put in her backpack for school, as if she had to have something with her to care for, even a stuffed animal."
As tragic and heartbreaking as it is to know that such a lovely life has been cut horribly short, I'm hoping to let Catherine's example of open tenderness remind me to better appreciate kindness: In myself, in my clients and in my own gentle, tenderhearted daughter as well.
Note: Catherine's parents created a memorial in honor of their daughter's love for animal rescue. They requested that any donations be sent to their local animal shelter. To date, with the generosity of hundreds of supporters, Catherine's vision is now becoming a reality. The Catherine Violet Hubbard Animal Sanctuary is under way!
6.02.2013
"There is Nothing Naive About Your Impulse to Change the World"
This past month I've read dozens of 2013 commencement speeches from thought leaders around the world; however, not one of them sounded like anything too inspiring or new to me. But then I happened to stumble upon a 2008 Wesleyan University commencement address by then-Senator Barack Obama and it struck a chord. I thought I'd share this abridged version with you.
Enjoy!
-Katie
There are so many ways to serve and so much that needs to be done at this defining moment in our history. You don't have to be a community organizer or do something crazy like run for President.
And so, understand that, should you take the path of service, should you choose to take up one of these causes as your own, know that you'll experience the occasional frustrations and the occasional failures. Even your successes will be marked by imperfections and unintended consequences. I guarantee you, there will be times when friends or family urge you to pursue more sensible endeavors with more tangible rewards. And there will be times where you will be tempted to take their advice.
But I hope you'll remember, during those times of doubt and frustration, that there is nothing naïve about your impulse to change the world. Because all it takes is one act of service - one blow against injustice - to send forth what Robert Kennedy called that tiny ripple of hope. That's what changes the world. That one act. An act by you, Class of 2008.
We will face our share of cynics and doubters. But we always have. I can still remember a conversation I had with an older man all those years ago right before I was headed for my new job in Chicago. He said, "Barack, I'll give you a bit of advice. Forget about this community organizing business and do something that's gonna make you some money. You can't change the world, and people won't appreciate you trying. But you've got a nice voice, so you should think about going into television broadcasting. I'm telling you, you have a future there."
Now, I’ve wondered…he might have been right about the TV thing, but he was wrong about everything else. For that old man has not seen what I have seen. He has not seen the faces of ordinary people the first time they clear a vacant lot or build a new playground or force an unresponsive leader to provide services to a community that's been neglected. He has not seen the face of a child brighten because of an inspiring teacher or an inspiring mentor. He has not seen the scores of young people educate their parents on issues like Darfur, or mobilize the conscience of a nation around the challenges of climate change. He has not seen the lines of men and women that wrap around schools and churches, that stretch out block after block after block just so they could make their voices heard, many for the very first time.
Our collective service can shape the destiny of this generation... and generations to come.
Enjoy!
-Katie
"... You are about to enter a world that makes it easy to get caught up in the notion that there are actually two different stories at work in our lives.
The first is the story of our everyday cares and concerns - the responsibilities we have to our jobs and our families - the bustle and busyness of what happens in our lives. And the second is the story of what happens in the life of our country - of what happens in the wider world. It's the story you see when you catch a glimpse of the day's headlines or turn on the news at night - a story of big challenges like war and recession; hunger and climate change; injustice and inequality. It's a story that sometimes can seem separate and distant from our own - a destiny to be shaped by forces beyond our control.
And yet, the history of this nation tells us that it isn't so. It tells us that we are a people whose destiny has never been written for us, but by us - by generations of men and women, young and old, who have always believed that their story and the American story are not separate, but shared. And for more than two centuries, they have served this country in ways that have forever enriched both.
I say this to you as someone who couldn't be standing here if it were not for the service of others, and wouldn't be standing here today if not for the purpose that service gave my own life.
You see, I spent much of my childhood adrift. My father left my mother and me when I was two. When my mother remarried, I lived overseas for a time, but was mostly raised in Hawaii by her and my grandparents from Kansas. My teenage years were filled with more than the usual dose of teenage rebellion, and I'll admit that I didn't always take myself or my studies very seriously. I realize that none of you can probably relate to this, overachievers that you are, but there were many times when I wasn't sure where I was going, or what I was going to do with my life.
But during my first two years of college, perhaps because the values my mother had taught me - values of hard work, honesty, empathy and compassion - finally resurfaced after a long hibernation; or perhaps because of the example of wonderful teachers and lasting friends, I began to notice a world beyond myself. I became active in the movement to oppose the apartheid regime of South Africa. I began following the debates in this country about poverty and health care. So that by the time I graduated from college, I was possessed with this crazy idea - that I was going to work at a grassroots level to bring about change.
I wrote letters to every organization in the country I could think of. And one day, a small group of churches on the South Side of Chicago offered me a job to come work as a community organizer in neighborhoods that had been devastated by the closing of steel mills. My mother and my grandparents, liberal minded though they were, wanted me to go to law school. My friends were applying to jobs on Wall Street. Meanwhile, this organization offered me $12,000 a year plus $2,000 for an old, beat-up car.
And I said yes. I said yes.
I didn’t know a soul in Chicago, and I wasn't sure what this community organizing business was all about. I had always been inspired by stories of the Civil Rights Movement and by JFK's call to service, but when I got to the South Side, there were no marches, there were no soaring speeches. In the shadows of empty factories, there were just a lot of people who were struggling. And at first we didn't get very far.
I still remember one of the very first meetings we put together. The community had been plagued by gang violence, so we tried to mobilize a meeting with community leaders. And I had worked for weeks on this project. We waited and waited for people to show up, and finally, a group of older people walked into the hall. And they sat down. And a little old lady raised her hand and asked, "Is this where the bingo game is?"
It wasn't easy, but eventually, we made progress. Day by day, block by block, we brought the community together, and registered new voters, and we set up after school programs, and fought for new jobs, and helped people live lives with some measure of dignity.
I also began to realize that I wasn't just helping other people. Through service, I found a community that embraced me; citizenship that was meaningful; the direction that I'd been seeking. Through service, I discovered how my own improbable story fit in to the larger story of America.
Now, each of you will have the chance to make your own discovery in the years to come. And I say "chance" because, as President Roth indicated, you won’t have to take it. There's no community service requirement in the outside world; no one's forcing you to care. You can take your diploma, walk off this stage, and chase only after the big house and the nice suits and the other things that our money culture says you should buy. You can choose to narrow your concerns and live life in a way that tries to keep your story separate from America's.
But I hope you don't. Not because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate, although I believe you do have that obligation. Not because you have a debt to all those who helped you get to where you are today, although I do believe you have that debt to pay.
The first is the story of our everyday cares and concerns - the responsibilities we have to our jobs and our families - the bustle and busyness of what happens in our lives. And the second is the story of what happens in the life of our country - of what happens in the wider world. It's the story you see when you catch a glimpse of the day's headlines or turn on the news at night - a story of big challenges like war and recession; hunger and climate change; injustice and inequality. It's a story that sometimes can seem separate and distant from our own - a destiny to be shaped by forces beyond our control.
And yet, the history of this nation tells us that it isn't so. It tells us that we are a people whose destiny has never been written for us, but by us - by generations of men and women, young and old, who have always believed that their story and the American story are not separate, but shared. And for more than two centuries, they have served this country in ways that have forever enriched both.
I say this to you as someone who couldn't be standing here if it were not for the service of others, and wouldn't be standing here today if not for the purpose that service gave my own life.
You see, I spent much of my childhood adrift. My father left my mother and me when I was two. When my mother remarried, I lived overseas for a time, but was mostly raised in Hawaii by her and my grandparents from Kansas. My teenage years were filled with more than the usual dose of teenage rebellion, and I'll admit that I didn't always take myself or my studies very seriously. I realize that none of you can probably relate to this, overachievers that you are, but there were many times when I wasn't sure where I was going, or what I was going to do with my life.
But during my first two years of college, perhaps because the values my mother had taught me - values of hard work, honesty, empathy and compassion - finally resurfaced after a long hibernation; or perhaps because of the example of wonderful teachers and lasting friends, I began to notice a world beyond myself. I became active in the movement to oppose the apartheid regime of South Africa. I began following the debates in this country about poverty and health care. So that by the time I graduated from college, I was possessed with this crazy idea - that I was going to work at a grassroots level to bring about change.
I wrote letters to every organization in the country I could think of. And one day, a small group of churches on the South Side of Chicago offered me a job to come work as a community organizer in neighborhoods that had been devastated by the closing of steel mills. My mother and my grandparents, liberal minded though they were, wanted me to go to law school. My friends were applying to jobs on Wall Street. Meanwhile, this organization offered me $12,000 a year plus $2,000 for an old, beat-up car.
And I said yes. I said yes.
I didn’t know a soul in Chicago, and I wasn't sure what this community organizing business was all about. I had always been inspired by stories of the Civil Rights Movement and by JFK's call to service, but when I got to the South Side, there were no marches, there were no soaring speeches. In the shadows of empty factories, there were just a lot of people who were struggling. And at first we didn't get very far.
I still remember one of the very first meetings we put together. The community had been plagued by gang violence, so we tried to mobilize a meeting with community leaders. And I had worked for weeks on this project. We waited and waited for people to show up, and finally, a group of older people walked into the hall. And they sat down. And a little old lady raised her hand and asked, "Is this where the bingo game is?"
It wasn't easy, but eventually, we made progress. Day by day, block by block, we brought the community together, and registered new voters, and we set up after school programs, and fought for new jobs, and helped people live lives with some measure of dignity.
I also began to realize that I wasn't just helping other people. Through service, I found a community that embraced me; citizenship that was meaningful; the direction that I'd been seeking. Through service, I discovered how my own improbable story fit in to the larger story of America.
Now, each of you will have the chance to make your own discovery in the years to come. And I say "chance" because, as President Roth indicated, you won’t have to take it. There's no community service requirement in the outside world; no one's forcing you to care. You can take your diploma, walk off this stage, and chase only after the big house and the nice suits and the other things that our money culture says you should buy. You can choose to narrow your concerns and live life in a way that tries to keep your story separate from America's.
But I hope you don't. Not because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate, although I believe you do have that obligation. Not because you have a debt to all those who helped you get to where you are today, although I do believe you have that debt to pay.
It's because you have an obligation to yourself. Because our individual salvation depends on collective salvation. Because thinking only about yourself, fulfilling your immediate wants and needs, betrays a poverty of ambition. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential and discover the role that you'll play in writing the next great chapter in the American story.
There are so many ways to serve and so much that needs to be done at this defining moment in our history. You don't have to be a community organizer or do something crazy like run for President.
But I hope you'll remember, during those times of doubt and frustration, that there is nothing naïve about your impulse to change the world. Because all it takes is one act of service - one blow against injustice - to send forth what Robert Kennedy called that tiny ripple of hope. That's what changes the world. That one act. An act by you, Class of 2008.
We will face our share of cynics and doubters. But we always have. I can still remember a conversation I had with an older man all those years ago right before I was headed for my new job in Chicago. He said, "Barack, I'll give you a bit of advice. Forget about this community organizing business and do something that's gonna make you some money. You can't change the world, and people won't appreciate you trying. But you've got a nice voice, so you should think about going into television broadcasting. I'm telling you, you have a future there."
Now, I’ve wondered…he might have been right about the TV thing, but he was wrong about everything else. For that old man has not seen what I have seen. He has not seen the faces of ordinary people the first time they clear a vacant lot or build a new playground or force an unresponsive leader to provide services to a community that's been neglected. He has not seen the face of a child brighten because of an inspiring teacher or an inspiring mentor. He has not seen the scores of young people educate their parents on issues like Darfur, or mobilize the conscience of a nation around the challenges of climate change. He has not seen the lines of men and women that wrap around schools and churches, that stretch out block after block after block just so they could make their voices heard, many for the very first time.
Our collective service can shape the destiny of this generation... and generations to come.
-Senator Barack Obama
Commencement address at Wesleyan University,
Middletown, Connecticut, USA, May 28, 2008
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