Friday, October 28, 2011

What are you amazing at?

In a meeting this week, someone asked me "What are you amazing at? Like, truly amazing?"  The question threw me off,  mostly because of the setting - it wasn't the sort of meeting in which I would have expected that question. 

(For what it's worth, and in case any of you readers might have been in that meeting,  I'm happy that I was asked.)

Frankly, I stumbled through my answer.  Even after several recent interviews for a new position during which I spoke a lot about myself.  And after working on articulating my story and my skills and my core competencies and all of those branding things which I have learned (somewhat reluctantly) to work on.

I can tell you what I'm good at.  I can tell you what I'm bad at.  But amazing?  To highlight one thing?  That's more difficult.

But so very crucial.  For ourselves, and for our organizations.

We need to be able to articulate quickly what is at the very top of our skill pyramids.  It's quicker, and sharper, than an elevator speech.  It becomes both more complicated and more important as the entire nonprofit world becomes more networked and more about working collaboratively with partners.  That very connectedness forces us to be able to pinpoint exactly what makes us stand out.

In Judaism this week, we read the story of Noah.  Most of us from western religious traditions know it.  Noah does one thing, right?  He builds that ark.  He doesn't, as this video suggests, go help his neighbors.  He doesn't try to stop the rain.  He listens, measures, and builds.

Maybe Noah should have done more.  Probably, even.  But even if he had, we might likely still remember him for that one thing.  That ark.  If someone asked him what he was amazing at, he could tell you.  Me, I haven't quite found my ark, but I'm having fun defining it, for myself, and for the amazing organization I have the privilege to work for.


Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Finding My Wheelhouse

I want to start with a confession: I'm a little obsessed with Jillian Michaels.  Yes, I know that The Biggest Loser is completely problematic (she quit, didn't she), and I know that she can be a little extreme, but I like her.  A lot.  So much that I listen to her weekly podcast and I don't even really mind that she calls everyone "buddy".

This week, she used the term "wheelhouse".  Hadn't heard it before.  JB tells me it is a baseball term.  Your wheelhouse (as maybe you all know) is your sweetspot.  That place where you hit your stride and feel great.  Psychologists call it "flow".  Mystics might call it revelation.  While the term might now be a baseball term, it has its origins in boating, of course.

Boating is where I went when I heard Jillian use it.  It reminded me of the extraordinary book that might friend Jessica Dulong wrote last year - chronicling her adventures finding her wheelhouse, literally and figuratively, on the Hudson river - in the engine room of a fire boat and behind the wheel of a tug.  If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so.

Jessica and I have known each other since we met as teenagers at an elite boarding school where we were constantly being told we were the "future leaders of America".  And some of us did indeed become that.  Many of us, though, fell into a long Gen X journey of finding our wheelhouse.  Discovering what it is that we can do that will put food on the table AND help us find our groove.

I started a new job this week.  In many ways, the move comes out of my long term and short term search for my wheelhouse.  It comes from noticing on a regular basis what things I love doing - the moments during the day when the passage of time ceases.  It is new, but it isn't new.  Those who know me well will recognize that components of it are getting back toward my roots - so new, but familiar at the same time.

Which resonates with me at this moment in the Jewish calendar - of Simchat Torah.  For those who don't know, this week we read the end of the Torah, and then, in pretty much the same breath, we start all over again.  Telling the same story, another time.  If we are lucky, each time we hear something new in it, and with each reading we come a little closer to understanding.  And to me, to understand Torah is to understand ourselves and our world - to come a little closer to spending more and more time in our wheelhouse.

Been a touchy-feely few weeks here at Fishing For Good.  Next week, back to running and community and organizational thinking. And in the coming weeks, my thoughts about coaching, too - 'cause I most definitely haven't been doing this thinking alone.  In the meantime, hope those of you who are dancing with the Torah (or marching, or parading around with flags with apples on top) have a joyous holiday.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

I'm sorry that I never watched that Youtube video you sent me

At this time in the Jewish year (between the holidays of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur), it is traditional to ask for forgiveness from those we have wronged over the past year.  In recent years, more and more of my friends have been posting social media apologies.  I'm guessing you've seen a facebook status update that says something like "If I did something to hurt you this year, I'm sorry."

Um, really?  This doesn't do it for me.  If you know me well enough to be worried that you might have offended me and not realized it, than tell me.  Or call.  Or at the very least send me a personal email. I am a little old fashioned and facebook is not yet intimate enough for me for these kind of messages.  As this article teaches (albeit in another context), face it - don't facebook it.

But what about sins that are commited via social media?  Can we apologize for those with social media?  I believe we can.  And thus offer the following set of apologies (collected from my facebook friends, twitter followers, and real, live human beings I spoke with).

Virtual friends and followers, please forgive me for:
  • The sin committed with a smartass facebook comment that could have been left unsaid (hat-tip to JB)
  • The committed by over-sharing the accomplishments of our children, using baby talk when we do so, and assuming that people care about their bodily functions (hat-tip to QR)
  • The sin committed by "liking" our own posts.  (hat-tip to KB)
  • The sin committed by posting we will be in your city and then, well, not really wanting to hang out with you. (hat tip to SS)
  • The sin committed by not wishing you a happy birthday on facebook.
  • The sin committed by sending out an identical message simultaneously via facebook, twitter, and email.  
  • The sin committed by replying to your voice mail with a text message.
  • The sin committed by cluttering your news feed with gaming results.
  • The sin committed by not checking out urban myths before passing them on.
  • The sin committed by forwarding email chain letters.  Or jokes.  (Everyone over the age of 50 is automatically forgiven for the joke piece).
  • The sin committed by sending you an email while you are in the room talking to me.

And one more, that I am truly sorry for:

  • The sin committed by bragging (or  worse, complaining) about all that I have: healthy children, steady interesting work, a supportive and adorable spouse whom I was able to legally wed, great friends, an amazing family.... 

Because social media is about sharing our success, and joy, and struggles.  But when the audience isn't direct, and the message is 140 characters or less, it sure can be hard to remember to insert gratitude for what we have and acknowledgment that others might not be in the same place.

Will you forgive me?