Enriquez Iglesias-induced Impairment

http://www.flickr.com/photos/evarinaldiphotography/

I temporarily forgot that I was over 40 with children when I said "yes" to my friend's invitation to go to an Enriquez Iglesias concert.  Didn't get home 'til almost 1:00 am last night.

Wait- that was... technically this morning.  Whatever.

http://www.desiretoinspire.net/

Very tired today.  Children up quite early.

Had a lot of fun, but again,

Very tired today.

Now, because of my fatigue, I've been experiencing a phenomenon which I discuss in my presentations:  Inferior Function awareness.  Just to clarify here and now, these are not functions that relate in any way to bodily functions. (It's not that kind of blog.)  Rather, these "functions" pertain to Personality Type, wherein "inferior function" is a term used in Type Development discourse.

We all have dominant functions and inferior functions, no matter what our personality type.  My dominant function, as determined by my ENFP preference, is a perceiving function called extraverted Intuition.  In other words, I tend to ask questions of others first before making judgments. Extraverted Intuition is a great dominant function to have as a career coach, because I ask really good questions of my clients.

I prefer seeking information from my environment rather than constantly making internal decisions on that information.  It's a conceptual, imaginative and open-ended dominant function, and I do it naturally, easily and without thinking. Kind of like writing with my right hand.

Now using my inferior function?  It's like using my left hand:  not quite as adept.  I can use it for basic things like picking up something or clapping, but forget trying to write my name with it.  Unless, of course, I want my handwriting to look like a kindergartner's.  

Flickr-o5com

My inferior function is introverted Sensing, which involves retrieving information from the archives of my brain.  Numbers, dates, general data recall, details, minute planning, blah blah blah.  Introverted Sensing is all about the internal perception of the here and now, the concrete details, and practical data.  I'd mention more but it's wearing me out just writing about these bad boys.

I mention my less-than-stellar adeptness with details in How We Got to the Moon.  And you can bet those pesky details are the first thing to go when I get tired or have a headache or get overly stressed.

The big concept part of my brain is fine; it's operating just dandily, almost automatically because it's used so much and works quite adeptly.  But my inferior, introverted Sensing function? Well, it might as well be where Enriquez and his band probably were this morning: in bed nursing a headache from too much La Vida Loca.  (Or perhaps that's just my fantasy of the kid-less showbiz crowd.)

So today it took a lot of extra energy to concentrate on paperwork, processing data, and doing calculations in my head.  Thankfully, being in the highly conceptual field of a career coaching that I am, those activities are kept to a minimum.  But struggling with these activities makes me appreciate my choice of paths.  My typical day really focuses on my dominant function and what I do best:  gathering information from people and outside sources and creating solutions with these concepts.

I've been in jobs where my inferior function was used every day all day (administrative work) and it was immensely draining.  Why?  The inferior function just doesn't work as well as the dominant function, and so it takes more energy to use.  Of course, we all use our inferior function all the time, but preferably in moderation.  And when someone says that their job drains them or that they come home "at the end of their rope," it's most likely due to the fact that they're probably using way too much of an inferior function.

That being said, I'm going to bed.  And you can ponder over your inferior and dominant functions while I sleep.

Oh, and Buenos Noches, Senior Iglesias.

Create Your Space: A Room of My Own

Design Sponge

Here's my dilemma: I am trying to convert our dining room into my office since we only use it a few times a year and I really need a new home office space.  However, I'm feeling torn.  Function, form, fun...  frolicking fairies... these things are all running through my head right now.

(Okay, I'll admit, the fairies were added purely for over-the-top alliteration.)

In addition to coaching I love to create visuals.  I design pages for workshops, make collages that illustrate ways to create unique paths, and put together fun, colorful take-home exercises. Therefore the idea of an art studio appeals to me.  On the other hand, I also need a place for people to come and talk about themselves and their personal discoveries without a bunch of art supplies hangin' around, cluttering up their minds and mine.  (And don't EVEN talk to me about just putting my art supplies away when I'm through with them.  What a creative buzz kill!)

From The Guardian, via English Muse
Some cool stuff goin' on, but I might just lose a client in here.

So I'm asking myself, do I want this room to be part art studio/ part office? And is that really feasible?

via Simply Grove.
Very Girly.  But I do like it.

And then I think, so maybe "office" is the wrong word, and so is "studio." Perhaps I just want to have a place for everything, and "office" sounds so clean and organized yet boring and "studio" sounds really fun and creative but chaotic.

via Simply Grove
Love this one!!!

I suppose what I really want is to create a space that, like the note above says, makes me "feel like the best version of myself." Because when I talk with clients, whether over the phone or in person, I want be in an energized and centered place mentally.

Bottom line:
I need to think of designing my space like creating a career:
why use titles? Labels?

Why not just look at what I want my space to include and incorporate as many of those elements as possible?  I probably don't even need a design board this time!

Well, perhaps just a little one... . (Is there a 12 step program for design board addicts?)


*******
Thanks for listening and wish me luck.

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.