The "Attention" Graphic

“PROGRESS” via Visualize Value

One graphic. Two vastly different perspectives.

1. WHAT deserves my attention?

2. WHO deserves my attention?

In the WHAT scenario, this exemplifies focus (good).

In the WHO scenario, this signals missed opportunities. (not so good).

I also see the WHAT-WHO as interconnected.

When I am hyper-focused, I have little time for distractions and interruptions. It’s part of our conditioning to always "strive for" a level of focus that leads to breakthroughs or better outcomes.

But it can come with consequences.

Human consequences.

And if I am to effectively lead a team, my business, clients, or my family forward... I need A LOT more of the Xs on "WHO deserves my attention?" to become checkmarks. (I also think of an X as a person coming back multiple times).

Doing focused work isn't a hall pass to ignore the needs of people who seek your insight, guidance or encouragement. We might not always have the time, right this minute, but we must find ways to make time and space for the people who need us.

Those who get it will have a more profound impact on the people in their sphere of influence.

NOTE: this graphic is originally titled "PROGRESS" from Visualize Value, which prompted how we define & measure progress.

"That's one way to do it."

CRITICISM IS EASY.

Take the harder high road, the more productive path.

Early in my career I had a mentor who was as methodical as the day is long.

I had worked with process-minded people before, but this was a level of process reaching stratospheric proportions. As much as I respected this woman and her many accomplishments, the mere thought of being caught in her process web would send me and some of my fellow colleagues into the proverbial fetal position.  

She held professional titles that included teacher, legislative aide, attorney/partner, executive, plant manager, principal – and she brought every bit of herself and influence from those previous roles and experiences to bear on the work for our clients.

There were days when my younger self hated the prospect of entering her office knowing her full range of experience was about to come crashing down on the crumb of work I was trying to implement for a client.

All I wanted was a simple yes or no; do this or change that.

But the teacher in her wouldn’t make it so easy. Not when she saw a student in front of her.

“That’s one way to do it...”

She had a wealth of stories and phrases that she dropped like clockwork on us. It got to a point, or even a time of year, when we could anticipate them. One that sticks in my head to this day is – “That’s one way to do it.”

Translation: We are not doing it that way.

For years it seemed I was prolific in doing it that one (wrong) way.

It never came off as criticism. It was more a glaring fact, and the more you thought about it you intuitively knew she was right: this was not the way to do it.

I’m sure there were times when she would’ve enjoyed going off script to rip into me and my thinking. Still, she never criticized my ideas or the draft work I put in front of her. Instead she willingly gave me time (and demanded undivided attention from me in return) as she worked alongside me to make things better.

Better, I learned, was a much steeper climb than I thought possible.

Doing the hard work for me wasn’t the experience she was willing to pass down. She also knew that criticizing the work would erode trust in the process. Her experiences helped to guide how she would teach others through experience, and by that I mean failure, and revision, and more revision, until we revised our way into something wholly new and different. Maybe she knew that all along, and what she knew I needed to experience. I can hear her words in my head:

“YOUR FIRST IDEA IS NEVER YOUR BEST IDEA, KID.”

Don’t be wooed by your own sense of accomplishment. There is always room for improvement.

She also didn’t criticize the work of clients or competitors. If we had a different approach, we’d work hard to show value in presenting an alternative perspective. We would be persistent but patient. We would be respectful but resolute. And yes, we’d even be willing to rethink our thinking: is this just one way to do it, or might there actually be a better way than we initially envisioned, now that we have greater insight?

CRITICISM IS EASY.

Take the harder high road, the more productive path.

I don’t recall her ever saying this. She didn’t have to.

But it’s what I gleaned from her and an unwavering work ethic — as a teacher imparting wisdom; as someone in politics who knew that common ground is what moves things forward; as an attorney who understood all the ramifications of missteps; as an executive who valued culture and strategic plans as equally important and intertwined; as a plant manager who took responsibility for people, parts and productivity; and as a principal who never compromised her long-held principles.

When we choose to criticize prospective or existing clients for “not getting it” or when we criticize our competition for taking approaches we disagree with or find unprincipled, we need to recognize it for what it is:  wasted energy that doesn’t lead us down a more productive path.

When we find ourselves in these situations, perhaps we can flip our thinking and be more thankful for what we learn from doing the hard high road work — and that helps us in the end. Restraint and resilience pay powerful dividends later.

I’m grateful for a mentor who didn’t coddle me, who taught me that first ideas are not our best ideas, it’s just one way to do it. And then graciously extended a hand as if to say – let’s improve on that thinking. Let’s keep climbing.

We need more of that right now in all walks of work and life.

I’m renewing my commitment to taking the often harder, but always more productive path.

It’s a process, one that a right-brainer learned from a patient, left-brained mentor. The path is wider than you might imagine and relatively uncrowded — if you’re inclined to join me.

photo credit: Pawel Chu

Silence as a Strategic Advantage

I recently spent an entire week in complete silence.

No talking. No verbal communication whatsoever. Doctor’s orders.

Not exactly ideal for a communicator.

Sadly, this isn’t unusual for me. It marked the fifth time in 10 years this has been necessary: a surgery to address abnormalities with my vocal cords.

Previously I tried to work through my recovery – using hand gestures, mouthing the words, using a white board to convey thoughts in the moment, and staying fully connected as best I could.  

But this time was different.

This time I left town for a remote place assured of silence and a focus on healing.

I limited all screened time. I walked a lot.

I did tactile things – mostly painting. I read for pleasure.  

And this is where my brain did something unexpected.

Instead of shutting off or winding down, my brain accessed a gear that is rarely found amid the speed of daily life.

A week of recovery turned into a week of renewed ingenuity brimming with ideas, surprising connections, and new possibilities. Things that would not have happened had I been running on the proverbial treadmill of work.

To be clear, this was different from vacation, from necessary downtime.

It was a mandated stop of verbal communication and a self-imposed limit on digital communication.

That, I learned, was the key to unlocking the floodgate of possibilities.  

When you are not actively communicating you become an observer, a listener – a discerning captive to that still small voice from within that provides a way forward.

IMAGINE THIS:

You have a big project hanging in the balance or a must-win pitch on the horizon.

You could engage as you always do – brainstorm meetings, ideation sessions, check-ins, status updates, work reviews, more meetings – and then “sprint” to the finish line.

Or you could give your team some silence and space. A mandate to think rather than perform. Consider it the opposite of the groupthink brainstorm.

This doesn’t require extreme measures or a full week’s worth of quiet and processing.

But what if you provided the freedom, untouchable increments of time and some space to breathe, think, and ideate in silence away from scrutiny of performance, away from the tyranny of the urgent?

What fruit might that yield?

What might a collaborative session look like when unfettered thinking is brought back to the table, rather than expecting brilliance to strike during a planned 60-minute brainstorm?

You and your team likely won’t find that hidden gear under those circumstances.

It is not how the flood of creative problem-solving is unleashed. 

Every organization wants the breakthrough idea that accelerates the business. Few are willing to give it the time, space, and necessary silence to bubble up from the quiet depths to the surface.

NOW IMAGINE THIS:

Your competitive advantage isn’t about doing more, or grinding, or hustling, failing even faster, or cracking the whip on your team.

In fact, it might look a lot like doing nothing – or appear to be ignoring the elephant in the room.

But you know looks can be deceiving.

Because what you are doing is making space and clearing a path for the best thinking to emerge. To allow for strategic listening to occur and see how ideas begin morphing into solutions.

That’s not only good business, but it also reenergizes teams to think – and then perform – differently.

And it’s also what organizations seek for the good of their business and their people.

Thoughtful leadership requires more of this overlooked habit

“I don't have time to read – I’m too busy.”

For years I’d hear that kind of a remark from a leader and assume I had no idea the kind of pressure they were under. Being none the wiser, I would give them a pass. After all, it is hard to make time for something that isn’t a priority.

Today I know better.

I get that some people don’t enjoy reading and that it feels like more work on top of the work they already must do. But keep reading (or stick with me through this post). It doesn’t have to be drudgery, and I believe it can become a priority if we focus less on the act of reading and instead look to outcomes reading presents.

Recently, James Clear shared this thought on the value of reading and it struck a chord:

"Reading is like a software update for your brain. 

Whenever you learn a new concept or idea, the "software" improves. You download new features and fix old bugs."

That should push us to think about how many “old bugs” we have that need fixing, as well as how many new ideas that could be of real benefit if we’re open and curious enough. 

Now imagine the leader of your organization working on Windows 98, using a decade-old Blackberry, and sending email from an AOL account. They’ve signaled that these tools are necessary if not important, but refused relevant updates for their tools, processes and practices to advance the business. 

Processing new information, and then applying that which is useful or helpful, is in part the art of remaining relevant — and we need our leaders to be relevant leaders who know where to guide us and our organizations. 

Looking back, I can pinpoint which leaders and mentors of mine were avid readers and curious thinkers, in part because we talked about books and new ideas. It shaped my thinking and encouraged me to dig in and dig deeper.

Conversely, I am also reminded of those whose leadership style was less about curiosity, innovation and new ideas. Instead they held fiercely to rigid views and a “this is how we (meaning you) do it” mentality.  

Still think you don't have time to read?

In the last three years I've nearly tripled the amount of books (ideas) I consume. Like you, I’m still the same busy human — running a business, raising a family, and being pulled and distracted in multiple directions. My consumption of deeper content (vs. social scanning and intermittent browsing) has grown by listening to books — in the car, while exercising or walking the dog. This is not a new idea, but I was slow to adopt it. But I’m choosing to steal back some of that lost time, reclaim bits and pieces of it, while also leaving enough margin to think and also unclutter the mind.

Last year, I completed 71 books. It wasn't a chore. Only a third of the titles were overtly about business. I track them not to “keep score” but simply to remind me of what I’ve read and what I might want to revisit. A log also reminds me if I’m active in my reading and if I’m getting derailed.

I'm continuing to gain perspective on things and people that I was previously ignorant about (software update). And no doubt I'm thinking differently and more broadly than I did just a handful of years ago. My curiosity quotient continues to rise.

Further, a diverse selection of reading material can open us up to becoming more empathetic and aware of those around us. But it requires us to humbly approach new ideas, different perspectives, and unique voices with an “I don’t know what I don’t know” attitude. Although this HBR article isn’t a recent one, it’s still relevant. And it’s comforting to know we’re in good company as we embrace this critical leadership habit.

We owe this kind of upgraded thinking and curiosity to our clients and colleagues, family and friends. We also owe it to ourselves. And it’s as easy as opening a book or pushing play on an audio version.  

So to all busy leaders and those who aspire to lead others: read to learn, read for enjoyment, but also read to lead. There’s no doubt that you, and those around you, will see the benefits of being not just well read, but more engaged and curious in contrast to that time when you didn’t have time to read.  

The hardest talent to recognize is your own

I cannot take credit for the headline. I scribbled it down in my notebook last week while sitting in the audience listening to a talk from Jon Acuff at STORY. The conference explored being in liminal space – that messy middle between no longer and not yet, or what was and what’s next.

We’ve all been there. Remember those teenage years? Liminal space. So is college. Not to mention getting downsized, relocating, and being stuck in a job that you know is the slow track to nowhere in particular. Many of us are there right now.

While there may be many reasons for being between the no longer and not yet, I’m also reminded of that trite but true saying – change is hard.

For that reason, many of us go to great lengths to avoid change and turn that temporary liminal space into our own permanent parking lot. But that prolonged state of stunted sameness is bound to get disrupted at some point — either against our will or perhaps by some divine intervention (sometimes it’s both).

I gave a talk a couple of years ago where i put a simple math equation up on the screen. It had a series of sixteen numbers on it that looked just like this:

1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1

It represented my professional career. I had been in a habit (much like you, I presume) of telling others I had 16 years of experience up until that point. But what I knew to be true was that I had 16 years of the same set of experiences, over and over, January to December, then repeat. I wanted, even expected, capital E experiences while settling for the comfort and complacency of the lowercase version. It was an excruciatingly long period of the not yet.   

Change – even the obvious, you-know-you’ve-got-to-change kind of change – is hard.

Change is hard is one boulder of a statement that casts a dark shadow on the questions the rumble behind it that still cry out for answers: What might I accomplish by taking a risk? What do I have to offer the world through my talents and gifts? What do I really have to lose?

Later in his talk Jon dropped this, which I think gets to the real issue many of us face:

“We’re not afraid of change.

We’re afraid of looking foolish.”

This kind of bold truth, when spoken, is something we cannot unhear. It shines a harsh light into the dark corners of our fragile selves. I started thinking of everything I’ve ever chickened out of because I was afraid… of looking foolish.

Now that you’ve read it – and can’t unsee or unthink it – the challenge is to relentlessly probe your motivations and insecurities to discern if you are more concerned with how you appear in the eyes of others, or how you can impact the lives of others.

When we are willing to believe in our talent, when we muster the fortitude to lead (or confidently walk alongside someone else) with a bold idea or vision or uncommon compassion, when we lean into the hard things together, we learn more about who we are and what we are capable of. We learn about resilience and vulnerability; trust and tenacity.

And we might just discover that those seemingly foolish ideas we've intuitively shied away from are the very things that can spark the change we desire.

Take a cue from Brené Brown, if necessary, and write yourself permission slips to do the bold things you need to do. Give yourself permission to look foolish (should it turn out that way) – if just briefly.

But know that others will likely see that self-labeled foolishness as having courage and the guts to do what many on the sidelines only dream of doing. And soon they too will have to come to grips with not being able to unhear your motivation and unsee your actions.  

We are told and reminded that it is the brilliant thinkers and the talented doers who change the word. And, so, what are you waiting for?

Jon presented this idea to his audience. Steal it, customize it, print it out, put it on a sticky note at your desk:

The world would be more awesome if ____________________.

or

My work would be more awesome if ___________________________.

My relationships would be more awesome if ___________________________.

What is your “if” that’s hanging out there waiting for you to take action?

Think about it and fill it in.

Then go do it.

Invite others along.

Small ideas that aren't fed and watered stay small.

Small ideas, when shared and nurtured, become bigger ideas – much bigger than any of us imagined.

And that hardly seems foolish.