My Website- like my home...

(Okay, not my home, but quite fetching, no?)

I have been working with a design team this past spring and summer.  We're working on a new web design, logo, brochure, and everything-in-between.

Oh, and did I mention the design team is in high school?

Well, actually, now they've graduated, but still.  Eighteen year-olds rock.

But back to the beginning of the process:  my team needed direction.

Being of the Perceiving persuasion, as the last letter of my ENFP personality type preference, I don't really give direction by nature.  I ask lots of good questions instead of giving orders.  And that's great for what I do.  In the case of clients, I first ask them what specifics are important to them, and then, using these clues, help guide them in a direction.  But I never tell them what direction to take.  This method works like a charm in the career coaching field.

Furthermore, in the case of my own projects, I ask others what they think and then direct myself using their input and my own inner compass.  Again, works well for the most part.  But giving directions, making lots of decisions... I was tremendously rusty.

And then I realized it really was quite simple:  I needed to figure out what I really wanted.  I just needed a nudge.  Kind of like when I had to decide how to decorate my home, I sought inspiration.  You'll recall my home design boards when I was doing my home makeover;  this time I made website design boards.

via geograph
Also not my home.  Makeover, anyone?

In creating my website design boards I surfed the web for hours.  I found websites that were stark white, minimalistic, and modern.  I found hipster designs that I loved, but many of them ultimately screamed, "I'm so cool I think you should have to pay to look at my words, you low-life."

(Or perhaps that was just me feeling intimidated?!)

(Nah... they really were quite snooty.)

Anyway, I combed through the endless corporate blather, the sentimental and trite, and, of course, the in-your-face, obscenity-laden rebels reporting how The Man or The Woman or Whatever Breathing Creature is Trying to Screw Them Over.

In other words, nothing fit me.  Nothing looked like what I wanted.  But then I eventually realized that was okay because that's what creating an original website is all about.  It's not about fitting into something out there;  rather, designing my website was about creating something totally fresh, from in here.  (You can now picture me lovingly pointing to my heart.)

(And now imagine a sappy and sentimental Hallmark-esque commercial.)

(And now you may retch.)

Although, generally speaking, I was drawn to the modern, the cool, the hip, the fun, and the fairly irreverent, I realized that I needed something more vibrant and meaningful.  I love color, the outdoors, the summertime, bright, living energy.  I needed- and continue to need-  all of these things.  Because it's not just about what I want, it's what I need for sustainability... when I go to write, to create, to invent.

Thankfully, I had a design team chock full of creative people who listened to what I needed.  They produced great ideas, combinations, designs, and photographs.  And I'm so very happy with our collaborative creation.  We're still working out some kinks, but it's coming along quite nicely, don't you think?

What you're looking for? It's just around the corner, right in front of your nose.

Perhaps you're just not stopping to listen and really look in front of you.  Stop searching and it may even come up and bite you on the nose!

(Which is actually a good thing, by the way...)

Here's what I mean.

Ah, Sanibel,  you sweet little island...

It was the last day of my Sanibel Island vacation, and I'd found bupkiss on my shelling expedition thus far.  Sanibel is known for its extraordinary shells, and I'd brought home many beautiful bounties in past years.  


But not this time, unfortunately, despite days of combing the sandy beaches.
I felt despondent, not just 
because I'd soon be going home empty-handed, but I'd also be leaving the beach, one of my most cherished spots, where I have always found solace and hope and peace and possibilities.

I decided to plop down on the sand and relax.  "Enjoy the moment, I told myself, "just relax and stop searching... for everything and nothing."  And, lo and behold, as I was sitting on the sand, listening to the waves, noticing how picturesque my sandy bare toes looked against the ocean's blue green tint, I saw them:  tiny, intricate shells- fully formed miniature versions of seemingly every shell I'd ever discovered on Sanibel Island.

I savored the terrifically gratifying moment that I'd created myself.  I'd looked around the corner!

************************************

Often times when people discover their ideal "sweet spot" of a career path, they'll admit that they'd been considering at least some version of that path but pushed away the possibility.  I remember when I was in my twenties, looking at a career book, thinking, "I wonder if I could do what these people (the authors) do.  I mean, I actually like careers as a subject.  All of the choices are really fascinating.  Maybe that's why I explore so many of them...."

Then I instinctively turned the book over to the back cover.  Yup, just as I'd suspected, the writers had PhD's.  So much for that, I immediately determined.  Didn't have the money or the desire to enroll in Psychology classes for the next decade.  But what I didn't consider is exactly what I ask clients to consider:  how can you use the subject that fascinates you as a tool?  A means to an end?  For instance instead of thinking, "I'd have to get a PhD to write a book," I needed to consider the possibility that a)you don't have to write a book to be a career consultant and b)there are other, very successful books about careers that are not written by PhD's .

Obviously, being a career coach was a possibility, and when, nearly a decade later, I really explored that possibility I found out that I had a fantastic set of aptitudes and skills that were perfect for coaching others on how to thrive in their careers and lives.

So next time you are searching for something, try this on for size:  stop panicking, lamenting and naysaying.  Rather, take a deep breath, close your eyes, and ask yourself, "Could my answer be just around the corner, right in front of my nose?"

Then open your eyes and see with a newfound optimism for discovery.

We're Under Construction!

Via Flickr by David Blaine

Don't mind the mess.  We're getting a face lift over here at Grow.  And thankfully there are no plastic surgeons involved... 'cause I hear they're quite invasive.

I am excited to be working with an amazing young design team.  They are quite a creative bunch and are doing a great job.  You'll meet them soon!

Can't wait for you to see the finished product, so stay tuned...

We Have a Guest!

Pink Sherbet Flikr

I'm excited to say that we have a guest writer here at Grow a Career!  Her name is Laura Herren.  She is in her early twenties and has a fresh and insightful perspective on a topic we all grapple with:  striving for excellence for its own sake, rather than measuring success by credentials.  I couldn't be any more thrilled to have her as a guest writer.  And, if I'm lucky, maybe she'll be back.

Enjoy!
-Katie

"Journey to Excellence"

Whatever excellence may mean to you, the world will ultimately measure your worth in credentials.  Those experiences that you have had that were not adorned with grades, certificates, awards, or any other honors will go largely unnoted.  It is unfortunate that this is so.  Unfortunate because the recognition itself can act as motivation, because it muddles the true significance of the work, and because there are many ways to excel for which awards do not exist.  For all of these reasons, you must forget whatever honors may be waiting for you at your goal’s end, and remember why your work is important to you.  At the end of the day, what means more to you: the trophy or the knowledge you have gained?
    An individual may choose to journey down a path because they are attracted to the prestigious recognition that lies at the end of that path.  In this way, the work becomes a means to an end, detracting from the value and enjoyment one can find in the work itself.  One may ask, What does it matter if people buy into these honors if the end result is the same?  To this question, I reply with a quote from Richard Feynman, one of the most brilliant physicists of the 20th century.  In 1981, he was interviewed in a BBC special entitled The Pleasure of Finding Things Out.  About his Nobel Prize, he replies:

I don't see that it makes any point that someone in the Swedish Academy decides that this work is noble enough to receive a prize. I've already got the prize. The prize is the pleasure of finding the thing out, the kick in the discovery, the observation that other people use it - those are the real things, the honors are unreal to me.

    By creating a system of honors, we have defined exactly what merits recognition and what does not.  Our confidence in this system is arrogant and it becomes evident when we assume that those endeavors that receive no honors are less worthy than those that do.  A single mother may, against all obstacles, raise her children with the education, opportunities, attention, and guidance that would normally be provided by two parents.  She will not receive an award or even an A+, but only the knowledge that she has cared for her children to the best of her ability.  I have received a good number of awards and recognition over the past four years, but I am certain that I have never worked as hard as someone with the job of two parents, nor have I ever provided the world with something as consequential as another human life.
    What drives me to do my best work?  There is the desire to please my parents, which often means bringing home good grades or awards, but also being aware of what I’m doing: would I let them down if they knew this?  I would like to say that what drives my research is the quest for knowledge, which I suppose it is in a broad sense, but the gratification is really much more instant than that.  To design an experiment is a titillating process: I must use everything that I understand about nature and consider especially what I do not.  When the results come, a euphoric high follows when my hypothesis is confirmed, while a bittersweet amazement follows each time nature foils my plans and shows me how it’s really done.  Finally, my most constant drive is the ticking in the back of my mind that reminds me of the limited time I have in this body with this consciousness.  It reminds me to relish each moment of the journey, because if all that matters is the awards that I have accumulated, then I have wasted an awful lot of time.
    The sum of your achievements is not what defines you.  What a misleading word “achievement” is!  To think that one has ever truly mastered or completed one’s undertaking is foolish.  There will always be more questions to explore, and this is the beauty of pursuing excellence: you are never really done. Excellence is not the pat on the back that you receive at certain points along your journey - it is the journey.

How I Stepped in It Big Time

 

research.ibm.com

Wondering what I mean by "it?"

Okay, just imagine you are a city girl going to the country for the first time in your fancy Jimmy Choo stilettos and you decide it would be cool to prance around in a bucolic pasture of ginormous cows.  (You aren't a very smart city girl, apparently.)  And the next thing you know, as you pirouette your way past Bessie grazing blissfully on a mouthful of grass, you have landed in a big ol' pile of...

You see where I'm going with this, right?

So anyway, I stepped in a very big pile when I replied "yes" to an email requesting unit leaders for my daughter's day camp.

I thought, how bad could it be?  Just take the little gals from group activity to group activity, bond with my daughter and no problemo.

Problemo was, that doesn't begin to describe what the job actually entailed.  How did I fail to know this?  Because I failed to ask, "what does that entail?"  The only thoughts going through my mind were emotional, not factual: daughter, bonding experience, they neeeeeed me, blah blah blah.  If you'll recall I'm an ENFP, so my go-to decision-making uses the Feeling Preference, which means my heart can override my brain when left unattended.

As you can probably gather, Ol' Feeling was left unattended.  I'd already committed myself before asking about the details and facts of the situation.  I quickly discovered that the volunteer position actually entailed about 40 hours of prep and planning, on top of the 40 hours spent actually at the camp.  Oh, that and the fact that 24 girls were in each unit, and there were 200 total in the camp.  Woooaaa Bessie!

If only I'd bothered to ask about the details of the day-to-day requirements (for example, that I'd have to plan 36 hours of curriculum for six to eight year olds in rain or shine weather,) my decision would have at least been well-informed.  Had I known the enormous time commitment I would never have signed on, despite the pitiful cries from the leaders of the camp saying that our daughters couldn't have a camp without parent volunteers.  I would've just turned on the Thinking Side of my brain which would've said, "So what?  She misses out on a camp. No big deal, we'll go to the pool."

Now, on the other hand, and this is the second part of this post (hereafter entitled, "What I Learned From Camp") I'm kinda sorta glad I stepped in it.  I suppose the impulsive, bleeding heart, sucker-born-every-minute Feeling Side of me didn't do such a terrible job.  First of all, I ended up being able to learn more about my daughter, what engages her and what she is capable of.  I never would've really known had I not been in the trenches.  (And, Baby, was I in the trenches!) I can really appreciate how well-behaved and talented she really is.  I think I take that for granted sometimes.

Secondly, I met an incredibly interesting and inventive guy, a former marine, that can make almost anything out of, well, almost anything.  He was my co-leader who also became my saving grace.  He and I forged through the week battling not only some whiny hiny kids and a completely disorganized camp infrastructure, but also the blazing sun, humidity, mosquitoes, threats of thunderstorms, and a bathroom full of wasps.


Despite these obstacles we succeeded in creating a really great curriculum.  We climbed a fort, visited horse stables, learned about cumulus clouds, weather patterns, butterflies, lightning and tornadoes.  We made some kick-ass volcanoes, silly putty, ice cream, compasses, and, for the grand finale, we performed a musical review complete with glitter laden props.


(Do you really think I could get through a week at camp without incorporating glitter?  Or putting on some sort of musical spectacle?)



Collaborate and Survive

My co-leader and I couldn't be any more different in personality but we both share a determination to make the best out of any situation.  Best of all, we both possess a strong affinity for sarcasm and irreverent humor, which is probably why we can make the best out of any situation.  Instead of wallowing in camp hell (which was the first day) we managed to combine our talents and teach the girls creativity, friendship, coping skills, manners, animals, pioneering, flag folding, music, science, weather, theatre, and grace-under-fire.

My co-leader made it a special point to use his big old army knife for pretty much everything.  (They're quite versatile I discovered.  I'd get one if I thought I could keep all of my fingers.)  I made it a special point to teach the rules of engagement, of course.  I could tell there were some girls well on their way to becoming the future BMW's of the adult work world.  So why not at least try to pre-empt it?  We saw some major improvement over the week.  It felt good to make a positive difference in young lives.

In retrospect, I realize I paid a small price (80 hours of my time and some income) for committing to something before asking for clarifications.  And yes, it all worked out splendidly in the end.  But compare that to a a much bigger conundrum:  when we embark on a career path such as one that includes grad school without doing much research.  Talk about a huge price to pay!  We waste gargantuan amounts of time, money, and mental well-being when we jump into career path without gaining insight into what that career path entails.  Sure, trial and error plays a big part in discovering a path that fits, but a lot of the error is totally unnecessary. Just talk to anyone who has stepped in to a law career that sucks the soul out of them.  They wish they'd done a bit more research before going to law school in the first place.

This week's experiences also remind me of the challenges my clients face as they leap into new careers:  adversity, fatigue (because nobody has loads of free time to work on career transitioning without losing some sleep,) doubt, frustration when hitting obstacles, you name it....  Yet these same people are no less than heroes when they come out transformed, emboldened and on a mission to take ownership of their lives.  Whether they are creating their own paths or jumping into a new company from scratch, they are taking risks.  But it's worth the self-doubt and confusion, because in the end change has happened.  Heroes are all about facing the unknown, and, in turn, change.  Without it where would we be?

(Still rubbing stones together to make a fire and muttering incoherently to each other I suppose.)

I don't know if I'll embark on this camping adventure next year.  We'll see about that.  But I do know that I've really grown this past week.  So I guess I should pat myself on the back for that...

And I'm thinking that pat on the back will be in the form of a manicure and pedicure.  My nails are pretty much camped out.

Crapshooting My Way Through

Here's my Important Question for the Day:

What's the difference between a crapshoot and parenting?

Answer:  At least with craps you have a chance of winning.

(For those of you who don't have kids, don't I make it sound enticing?) 

Becoming a parent has been the most humbling path I've ever taken, always presenting me with new opportunities for self-doubt and flagellation.   Fresh from a career in acting (talk about self-doubt and flagellation!) I never had extra self-esteem lying around to begin with, so now my confidence level (as far as parenting is concerned- in all other areas it's great) frequently scrapes the bottom of the barrel.   I constantly wonder if I'm being too soft, too hard, too lenient, too strict, too doting, too hands-off, over or under nurturing, and so forth.  What if I do the wrong thing?  Say the wrong thing?  Will they resent me for it later on?  I can just hear my daughter, at age 30, saying to me, "remember when you made me eat vegetables?  Now I have a life threatening phobia of eggplant for which I'm in psychotherapy seven days a week!  Thanks for the memories, Mom!"

Oh, the pressure.

However, I will consent that there are some things that I, as a parent, can get right without sending my children into therapy by age ten and which I will never regret.  One of them is telling them I love them (because I do, like crazy,) and another is teaching them the rules of engagement.  If you'll recall from my former post, these rules dictate that adults must assume responsibility for knowing what engages their talents.  And, hopefully, if all goes well, my kids will make it to adulthood in one piece and might just become responsible to boot. 

Moreover, along this road to maturity, they'll need to learn how to recognize what their brains need to do to function successfully.  They'll need to detect what motivates them, what mentally drains them, and what makes them lose track of time they're having so much fun.  So my goal?   To give them the tools and the opportunities to do so.

This is easier said than done, of course.  For, along with trying desperately to get them to like more than chicken nuggets,  I find that it's difficult to navigate the complexities of innate preference versus a reticence to try new things. My daughter, for one, is an innate perfectionist (the apple falleth not far from the tree) and getting her to try an activity that she can't perfect right away is like pulling teeth from a lion.  I dance a soft shoe when it comes to letting her discover, on her own, the joys of imperfection vs. nudging her to try something she is hesitant to try. 

On the other hand, my son, who is only two, has less fear of trying something new.  (Even at age two my daughter had reservations about performing unknown tasks.)  But my little guy seems to have no inhibitions about launching himself from the top of the couch to the floor, for example, or taking a new bike out for a spin, or climbing to the highest point in any room.  Is this a boy thing?  Probably, but it's still a clue about who he is.  And I've already determined that he is a monkey.  A monkey who is really good at doing puzzles.  (I'm really good at this stuff, aren't I?)

Here are some more clues I look for in the "what are they drawn to do?" category:

What excites them?  What gets them fired up?  (Besides sugar.)  

What makes them laugh?  


Where do they enjoy going?  What do they like to do when there?  For instance, do they like to put things in their place when we go to the toy store or do they like to combine things and form combinations with different toys?  My daughter likes to bring together many different little toys and make them form deep, lasting relationships with each other by the time we leave.  My son likes to make sure every car or machine can make a vrrroommmm sound, go fast, and then make sure they play together. 


How do they wind down and then get recharged?  Reading books?  Riding on a bike?  Playing ball?  Being around people?


How do they relate to their classmates?  Are they more independent or do they play with one or two kids or five or six all at once?  


Do they prefer team sports or individual pursuits?  Or perhaps no sports at all?


What do they enjoy creating? Performing?  Conquering? 


How much competition do they enjoy?

Getting answers to the above questions allows me and my husband to foster these proclivities.  We sign them up for what we can based on what they might enjoy.  And we throw in some curve balls just because.  Last year my daughter said she wanted to play soccer so of course we said, "sure!"  She mostly braided her hair the whole time the ball was whizzing by, but that's okay.  Maybe next year she'll move to braiding everyone else's hair.

This, to me, is the fun part of parenting.  I love watching them develop into little people who will then become big people with fully expressed talents and preferences and interests.  I know that I will look back and wish that I could've done certain things differently, but at least I can say that I was paying attention to what they wanted for themselves, not just what I wanted for them.  And that makes me feel like I might not lose completely.

The Universal Appeal... of My Purse

Yes, it's really come to this:  my purse as a metaphor for career design.

But stay with me here, because I need to tell you how my gloriously-designed handbag truly embodies everything good and holy about what I do for a living.

The visceral reactions this purse elicits demonstrate how close we can get to universally appealing design, whether it's careers or handbags.  Everyone compliments me on this fine specimen of a purse, a gift from my fashion-savvy sister.  (And yes, this is the same one that wore questionable outfits as child.)  I must have received at least a compliment or two per day for the past eight months. As you can see from the above photo, this fabulous purse, who I will hereafter refer to as "Rosie" - because "purse" doesn't quite do it- possesses shine, vivid color, texture, three dimensionality, and that je ne sais quois which attracts quite a following.

No, as I've sworn to countless individuals, it's not a Valentino, which, I'm told, prices out in the thousands.  (Little Sis' loves me, but not that much.)  Still, I get compliments from such a wide range of people it's uncanny.  Rosie has elicited glorious responses from people of all walks of life, male and female, young and old alike.  The words "Nice bag!!" have come from artists, interior designers, burly men putting out veggies in the produce department, a refined jewelry store owner in the Hamptons, security agents at the airport, pharmacists, librarians, octogenarians, gas station attendants, teenagers, boys and girls ages three on up... (the little ones just HAVE to touch it!)

So what does this have to do with careers and design?  Good design grabs people's attention.  An when you design a career around what energizes you, you'll noticed others are energized by it too.  You will gradually receive tremendous positive feedback from all types of people.  Even if certain people are not necessarily inclined to hire you, buy your product or use your service, they ultimately respect what you are doing and will tell others who ARE in the market for your talents.  When others recognize your unique and fantastic offering, they feel compelled to share with others your skill, talent or product.
 
On the reverse side, trying to please everyone misses the point, as everyone knows but tries to do it anyway. Universal design appeal comes from the career designer first discovering his or her own unique voice, and then finding or creating a need for this voice to be heard.  Design a career path this way and see how abundance finds you.

Now Rosie and I shall be off to the supermarket, where I'm sure she'll turn some heads yet again.