Life

Are you incoming or post-peak?

There are a lot of ways to consider our careers, relationships, our financial situations. Because I work in the innovation and trend field, we are obsessed with the trend curve to study products and changes in the marketplace. Recently, my boss opened my eyes to using it to evaluate other ideas and states of being. You can place your career on the trend curve, and if you’re post-peak, you better start thinking about how to re-invent yourself. The same can be said for your love life, for your finances, for where you make your home. And consider life in general – Am I jazzed about a new project I have going, be it professional, volunteer work, or a hobby? If all my projects are down-trending, it is time to start thinking about something new to get going.

The trend curve gives us a way to measure how life’s going, and its greatest value is in giving us questions to ask ourselves to evaluate the current state of what we’re trying to chart. I’ve been looking for a tool like this to think about the state of this very abstract idea of progress in life. It grounds the conversation for us, helps us make the choices more palpable, and gives us a historical context for consideration.
The piece it’s missing in the reinvention arrow, the one that connects “post-peak” with “incoming”. The curve makes it look as if there everything we are trying to chart will ultimately fade away into oblivion. This is not true so long as what we’re charting can be remade, refreshed, or repurposed. Arguably, everything we are trying to chart has taken the roller-coaster ride of the trend curve many times before. Everything we have has already been.
Life

Coffee remade

You’ve got hand it to Starbucks. Regardless of what anyone may think about the political corporate machine that made it okay to charge $2.50 for a cup of black coffee, they’re incredible innovators.

I was waiting for my friend, Monika, so we could take a walk in the Central Park today (the weather has finally turned to autumn in NYC) and stopped into the Starbucks on the corner to grab a hot apply cider. Upon entering I saw a sign that intrigued me: “Embrace insomnia.” This is what I’ve been saying all along to my fellow insomniacs! And to help you out, Starbucks has created a safe haven for us by being open 24 hours. Incredible. Genius.

In their recruiting efforts, Starbucks has placed posters of real baristas in windows who describe why they love working for Starbucks so much. If you’ve got a captive audience waiting in line, why not try to convince them to lend their expertise on the other side of the counter? Logical, yet innovative.

Starbucks has become known for their groovy tunes, and in partnership with itunes, they now help promote music in their shops by having baristas pick a song of the day, and making it possible to always know who’s singing the song that’s currently playing, and download it direct from itunes with the click of a button. Oh, and in cooperation with T-mobile, wireless Internet is free. Brilliant integration and partnership.

I’m waiting in line to get my cider, and the book The Kite Runner catches my eye. Attractively displayed, Starbucks is promoting the book and the movie. This is alongside their terrific gift assortment as well as the exclusive new release of Joni Mitchell’s album.

Now that I’ve just spent close to $3 for a cup of heated up apply cider, I head over to what I’ll call the accouterments bar to put some extra cinnamon in it and I have an array of well-designed literature in front of me: social responsibility pamphlet, t Mobile hotspot, Starbucks retail careers, and comment cards (mail it in without even having to put a stamp on it). Now I not only enjoy my beverage, I feel fantastic, even self-righteous, about having purchased it.

Why would you ever leave – hot drinks, food, books, music, a comfortable seat, a job, and a celebration of an illness that has kept me awake for most of my adult life. This is exactly the point….the longer you’re here, the more you’ll spend. Starbucks has laid waste to the idea that your core business is your only business. Arguably, they’ve switched the paradigm of retail. I’m not visiting for the product – I’m there for the atmosphere that only they can create for me. Talk about competitive advantage! I wonder how they’d feel about me setting up a cot in the corner.
Life

Super(wo)man lives!

I had dinner last night with a friend of mine who introduced me to something new you can do in a cab: a quick change. She said to me “I did a superman in a cab today.” I thought that meant she tripped and fell face first into the cab. Nope, it means changing your clothing while cabbing to your destination. I had never heard of such a thing.

You have to love NYC for these random acts of craziness. Would you ever, in any other city, consider undressing in front of a complete stranger in a moving vehicle? I personally think this is a fantastic idea to keep in your back pocket for the next time you need a good dare for someone.

My friend reasoned that it was dark and rainy, the driver was engrossed in his phone conversation (scary, I know), and she needed to get out of her suit and into something more comfortable quickly. You may be saying to yourself, “why didn’t she just go to a Starbucks restroom to change – they’re are plenty of those around.” Now what fun would that be? Just goes to show you that NYC adds some flair to even the most mundane activities.

Life

You find it when you’re not looking…

a parking space in New York that is. I am amazed by how many times I can drive around for 20 minutes looking for a space, find one, literally one, that is 12 blocks from my apartment, and as I approach my building free spots multiply before my eyes. It’s really incredible, and unexplainable.

I’ve also found this statement to be true recently for bicycle riders. I know that they are being better environmentalists than I by riding a bike instead of an SUV. I get that. I’m jealous of then. I’d love to pitch my car. However, why do they think riding a bike exempts them from every traffic law we have? They go the wrong direction, cut you off, run red lights, disobey stop signs, and the list goes on. I just don’t get it…how do they justify that behavior and then get angry at motorists? I’m longing for the day when those police officers that lurk around my neighbordhood give a ticket to a bicyclist or a cab who thinks they’re above the traffic laws.

Life

Cereal’s like the future

I feel alone and overwhelmed by the enormousness of this indefinite time frame known as “the future”. Even if I am perfectly happy, thinking about the future can turn me into a whirling dervish. This is why I do yoga, to calm my mind. This is why I stay as busy as possible, to keep myself in control. If I have a task at hand, then I can put my energy into that task. My mind is developing remarkable work-arounds to my distraction efforts. I’ll all of a sudden be walking down the street, finishing doing something or thinking about something, and next in the cue is always, always thinking about the future. “Hi self, Glad you took care of buying milk at the corner store. Now back to the matter at hand: the future.” “Good thing you worked out what you are going to say to Sleepy’s when you have to call them again to straighten out your bill. Time to think about the future, again.” And so it goes.

The funny thing about the future is that no matter how well you have it figured out, it just keeps coming. No such thing as a future tourniquet. If the future is coming, and it always is, then I’m worrying.

When I think about people from history that have exhibited calm, even in the face of great adversity, I think of the Dalai Lama, of Ghandi, and of Abraham Lincoln. It’s no wonder then that Mr. Lincoln would have said, “”The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.” So even if I am worried about 5 years down the line, next year, or next week, I only have to deal with it one small piece, a day, at a time.

The task of the future is too heavy, too much to bear today. Of course it is – I am one person, in one moment of time. I started to think about all the things I’ll do repetitively for the rest of my life and what it would be like to do them all in one moment. Let’s take how many bowls of cereal I’m going to eat between now and the day I die. I am hoping to live to be an ancient woman – my palm reader, Miss Susan, says this is highly likely. Let’s assume she is correct on that count. I also love cereal. I mean, really love cereal. If I could find a way to justify eating it for every meal, I would. So if I live 60 more years, that’s roughly 3000 weeks. If I eat about 4 bowls of cereal a week, that’s 12,000 bowls. Well, if ate all of those bowls RIGHT NOW, I’d probably die, or be very, very ill. Anything taken in such massive amounts is not good for us, and thinking about the future is no exception.

What Mr. Lincoln was saying is what we hear dietitians saying all of the time: the key is moderation. Take the future in tiny pieces, a bit at a time. Spoonful by delicious spoonful.

The above picture can be found at http://www.ars.usda.gov/is/np/fnrb/cereal1004.jpg

Life

A place to call happy

The idea of happy-nomics is still lurking around in my mind. I consider it constantly. This week I looked back at my career kaleidoscope that I created from my friend Susan’s book, the Right Job Right Now. (It’s listed on my blog in “my favorite books” section). And I realized that everything I had been looking for in a job, I found in my current position, and then some. Today I received an email from a woman at company that had interested me while I was still at Darden. Just now, the perfect position at the company had opened up and she wanted to know if I would be interested. I politely declined and offered to send the posting to friends who may know of someone interested. I have never in my life declined an interview. Never. I had arrived at happiness.

So just when I have it all figured out, and I smiling very proud of myself of how well I’d chosen my current job, how wise I had become since my last full-time job, I read a quote by Sydney H. Harris. “Happiness is a direction, not a place.” So while yes I am moving along the path of happiness, I will not actually ever get to some place called “Happy Land”. I may be skipping down Happy Lane right now, though if there anything in this world that is certain, it is change. This was a far deeper discovery than I ever thought I’d find in 7 small words.

Though in some ways, this also takes the pressure off. I am always hoping to arrive at Happy Land, Inner Peace Land, Satisfaction Land. It’s true in my relationships, in my career, even in my search for a home. Isn’t it easier to discover a general direction rather than a specific place. The best we can hope for is to be on the road of happiness and where it’s going is any one’s guess. It could be going to many different places. There’s no such thing as “I’ve arrived.” What we should be thrilled to find is “I’m going the right way for me, right now.”
Life

Inspiration by image

I am most moved by beautiful words, though increasingly I am also impressed with images, especially when those images are taken to create a narrative. Last week, I watched Pop!Tech (http://www.poptech.com/) on-line as the conference was streamed completely free by Yahoo. One of the speakers was Jonathan Harris, a photographer who lives in New York City. He built a photographic narrative of a whale hunt in Alaska. The candence of his picture taking mirrored the level of excitement, energy, and the beat of his heart during the hunt. Quite an incredible idea, and the pictures tell the story better than I think any words could do.
His talk made me realize there is a time for tell and a time for show. That art and its creation can and should be inextricably linked to the body and to the world around us. Pictures can contain energy, they live, they breathe. There is something to be said for great story telling, for capturing moments in time and then paginating them to form a continuous stream.
In my lifetime, it is likely that I will never be able to experience a traditional, subsistence whale hunt, or any other countless journeys that Jonathan takes us on. I’m sure glad he has his camera so that I can relive pieces of those spectacular scenes.
Life

The Move Toward Sameness

For the first time in this blog, I am writing from a location other than my home in New York. I am in Portland, Maine, with my good friend, Dan, who will be guest-blogging within the next week. After driving 8 hours from New York, we arrived here very late – around 1:30am. We got up this morning, had some breakfast and headed out to downtown Portland to do some sight-seeing.

While there were quaint little shops, and some one-of-a-kind hand-made items here and there, Maine really had not struck us any different than New Jersey. It is so similar in fact that when we pulled into the Sunoco Station to get gas this morning. I hesitated for a split second before recognizing that I needed to get out of the car and pump my own gas. (In New Jersey, it is illegal to pump your own gas – an attendant always does it for you.)

In my mind this begs the question, “why travel?” Granted both New Jersey and Maine are in the Northeast, though you would imagine that 8 hours apart cultures would vary to some extent. This lack of change gave me pause; maybe travel isn’t worth it unless we are traveling internationally, or into nature to place such as Yosemite or the Grand Canyon.

There are many good reasons to travel with a companion; though I would say that in the past I have been much more successful traveling alone than with company. However, that has much more to do with the fact that I am truly lousy at picking travel partners. Dan, is a great exception. He’s the perfect travel buddy – played DJ the entire trip, is a good conversationalist, is unfailingly optimistic, and tells me to knock it off in a very kind way when I lapse into my neuroses. As we were taking a rest back in the hotel before dinner, Dan reclined on his bed and said “the great thing about traveling is that it gives you permission to completely slack off.” I would never have realized this on my own. I am by nature a manic traveler – I must see everything, do everything, try everything, or else I feel I’ve wasted my money. In on sentence, Dan gave me some food for thought.

I don’t take time to slow down when I’m at home. If I did, I’d miss out. I write in my blog while I read a magazine, eat dinner, watch the news, and create yet another to-do list. It’s maddening, and it’s my fault that it’s maddening. There is much to be said for slowing down, serial tasking rather than multi-tasking, and then choosing to not task at all for a bit. Travel, regardless of where we go, lets us step away from our lives and our responsibilities and just be in the world. It’s a different lens through which to view living, even if that living looks similar to life at home.

Life

Running Toward Sunshine

I live in an apartment just off of Riverside Park. Every time I take a walk there, I see kids playing in one of the many playgrounds. The other day I saw one dashing away from her mom toward the sunny side of the jungle gym. It made me think of how often we go running toward light, toward something that will reveal to us some kind of warmth, comfort, and joy.

In this spirit, I went to see H.H. the Dalai Lama on Sunday with my friend, Rob. I have had a hard time writing this piece for this blog party because I am afraid that no words I am able to express will lend the kind of simplistic beauty that his message sends. However, after reading in the paper today about China’s threat to destroy relations with the U.S. if H.H. is given the Congressional Gold Medal tomorrow at the White House made me realize I must spread his message. We all must. As he says, “dialogue is the only way.”

His most incredible attribute is without doubt his unbridled humility. He sat center stage in lotus pose, with matching visor because the lights were so bright, and spoke to us for two hours. No notes, no teleprompter. It was as if we had been invited to his living room to ask our questions and tell him our fears. He made very clear that if we came to be fixed, to be enlightened, that we would be very disappointed. He could only tell us how he saw things. This was ironic because just as my friend, Rob, and I entered Radio City, I was thinking of the spiritual song whose verses end “oh lord, fix me.”

H.H. made clear that he does not think prayer fixes anything. There is no magic in it. It will not stir change. The only way forward is effort, failure. More effort, more failure. And again, and again. The only way forward, quite simply, is to keep going.

Fundamentally, he believes we may all be non-believers because for most of our lives, including his own, we do not practice our faith at every moment. It is in the background. We are human.

His talk was entitled Peace and Prosperity. He explained to us that this awful gap between rich and poor in the world must be closed. We will never all have peace if we don’t all have prosperity. It is almost as if the two must be achieved jointly. Not one before the other.

Despite his professing that he does not know the answers to most of our difficult situations in the world, people asked. They wanted to know how he felt about Burma. He replied, “This is very difficult. Very sad. The monks there wear robes similar in colors to mine. And I don’t know how to help them. I don’t know.”

He does believe fervently that war is outdated. That while we see so much tragedy and hardship, the world is getting better. He says there is no cause for hopelessness. There are only pockets of distress. By and large, the world is vastly improved from when he was a young man.

Exactly two hours after he began he put up his hands and said, “well that’s it. Until our next meeting, take care.” And with that simple statement, he stood up, bowed with his hands in prayer position, and bid us farewell. No fanfare, no excess. Just, “until we see each other again.” And I believe that moment will come. I really will see him again.

The thing I remember most about him is his rich deep laugh that enveloped all of us, took us into his comfort, and held us for a little while. A man who has suffered so much, who will undoubtedly never see his homeland again in this lifetime despite his constant effort to free his people, was by and large a happy, even joyful, man. And it made me think that regardless of my hardships in life, they are nothing compared to his. If he could laugh, and mean in, then so can I.

A few years ago I read H.H.’s book “Happiness at Work”. And at the end of the book the author was looking for some piece of pure wisdom. He asked the Dalai Lama how he could get up every day and work so tirelessly with seemingly little results. What would he do if he was not able to free his people in his lifetime? “Well, we will do the best we can.” And that was that. He would do his best. It’s all he could promise. And that small phrase gave me freedom. No matter what terrible loss or sadness or disappointment I may suffer, I had to know in my heart that the most I could was my best. If H.H. asked no more of himself, and he is enlightened, then how could I ask more of myself.

There was the sunshine I was looking for. I didn’t have to run toward it. It has been with me all along. It is with all of us, at every moment.

Life

Knowing our strength

I couldn’t help myself. A brand new Target store opened close to work, and my boss asked me to poke around at retail stores on Thursday afternoon for a project we’re working on. It was pouring rain,but I didn’t get wet. On top of being an absolutely gorgeous store, the new Target has a covered parking garage. I could hardly believe it. $144 later I left Target, and felt good about it. And I NEVER feel good about spending money.

Because of the rain, it took 2 hours for me to get home. And by a remarkable stroke of luck, there was a parking space right as I exited the West Side Highway, three blocks from my apartment. I pulled in, and was thrilled that I would not have to hunt for a space on the flooded streets. I bought a few groceries while at Target, including some perishables, and I wanted to get them inside. I had forgotten that I bought 9 bags worth of groceries, and that my apartment is not only 3 blocks away, but three blocks away – uphill. I struggled uphill, stopping every half block to switch arms and give myself a little break. Thankfully it was only drizzling. It wasn’t until halfway home that I realized this was a very bad idea, and to turn back would be just as far as it would be to get home. So, I kept on toward home.

I am sure that I looked ridiculous. I got more than one strange look from the doormen that line Riverside Drive. Neighborhood folks regarded me suspiciously, even though I was wearing business casual clothing. I guess it was covered up by all the bags. At least they were Target bags so I looked like a stylish crazy person.

Once I got inside I let out a big side and fell on my couch laughing. I always think I am stronger than I am, and then through sheer stubbornness I push through to do what I should not have attempted in the first place. The first step to recovery is recognizing you have a problem. So I’m finally at step one.

When I do things like this, I tend to think that everyone in the world would never do anything so ridiculous. That’s one of the reasons I moved to New York City. No matter how nuts you think you are, there’s always someone just a little more nuts right around the corner.

Today on the subway, a woman entered the train with a giant planting pot. I could have taken a nap in it is was so large. When she entered the train, there were very few people so it wasn’t too hard for her to manuveur. By the time she needed to exit the train, it was packed. So she gave fair warning that she would be getting off the train, and everyone just started to laugh outloud. A strapping man helped her lift the pot above everyone’s heads and then off she went dragging the pot behind her. How she planned to get through the turnstile I wasn’t sure. But I was grateful for the laugh.