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I have a bias against anger. I don’t like the way it feels. I have never found it useful. If it’s not useful then what’s the point? I grew up avoiding it at all costs. Hanging on to the adage: Turn the other cheek.
Anger made me feel out of control, reacting in ways I’m not proud of. The shame I felt after my behavior was enough to reinforce the benefit of suppressing my anger. My understanding of anger has shifted recently thanks to the process of parenting and the work of Brené Brown. I’ve incorrectly judged emotions because of how they felt in the moment. With some reflection they can provide insight into who I am and how I work. Which is extremely uncomfortable. Anger, when I don’t ignore it, can be a good motivator. It’s a strong enough emotion that it can drive action consistently. Wanting to prove others wrong, may be a problematic intention but it helps manage my consistent effort to see it through. Like in many past new years I am trying to go to the gym more. When I’ve set this goal in the past it is about accomplishing something. Reaching out to some vague attainment that never gets realized. Instead, I get burnt out or distracted. It becomes harder to get back on the gym train because the goal feels further away and more impossible to reach.
Rather than focusing on the end, this year (actually since September of 2023), I am focusing on the going. Getting to the gym is the goal. So many times my workout was dependent on the time I got out of bed, any delay felt like it set the dominos back putting me further behind the rest of my day. If I didn’t have time to complete my workout then why go at all? I have reframe this as, as long as I get to the gym I will workout until I need to be back to start my day, no matter how much or little gets done. If I show up to the gym, I’ve done the work. The big insight has been on the days I get out of bed late I am still able to get most of my workout in, and in some cases all of it. My body feels much better when I do something (even a little) then when I do nothing. Reminds me of a story about my mom, who made it a goal to clean up all the rocks in our backyard in Las Vegas (there were a lot of rocks). Because they were rocks she couldn’t put too many in the garbage can at one time. Otherwise it would be too heavy for the garbage collector to pick it up. Every week she would fill up a plastic 1-gallon ice cream bucket and put in the in garbage. It took a while, but eventually the majority of the rocks were gone. Maintenance tasks for daily living can be tedious and mundane. These tasks produce very little immediate gratification, which makes them hard to stay on top of. Growing up with participation awards I developed a reward seeking behavior for anything that appeared outside of my immediate responsibility. Which translates as the things that aren’t rewarding in and of themselves. I’d like to reframe this reward-seeing behavior and establish a stronger foundation to the way I live.
The phrase “Adulting is Hard” resonates because I still feel 17. At that age I enjoyed many of the freedoms of being older without the responsibilities of living on my own. I would never go back but my daily adult responsibilities can still feel like they belong to someone else. I was praised for completing any of these tasks as a 17 year old. Now at 40 there are just some things I’d rather not do. When I do them I want to be acknowledged and rewarded. Many of these tasks I would categorize as mundane. They aren’t difficult or complicated. Many of them don’t take a ton of time. They sit right in the sweet spot between I can do this later, and it won’t take very long. Making it prime for procrastination. What I’ve only recently recognized is the maintenance these tasks provide. Like wiping down the sink after the dishes, or chopping a little bit of kindling every weekend. A few minutes spent now take the pain out of the task later on. The reward is not immediate and is only recognized when I’m forced to do the full blown task. Part of the reason it’s so easy to stay where I am is because it takes the same effort I’m putting in now. No new action = no new reward. The phrase “dress for the job you want” is a metaphor for taking the seemingly unnecessary steps to get to where I want. Dressing up for work takes time and effort and the reward is hard to measure. But there are subtle shifts in how I hold myself, how I approach my day, and they way I think about my work when I take the time to put on an ironed shirt. Shifting away from seeking reward for these daily tasks reframes as path to success rather than highlighting the barriers to the reward. Moving to a long tail game rather than the short term win. This is what I think is meant by learning to love the process. In art class, the day projects are due is stressful. It’s the day we walk into the classroom, hang our art on the wall, and circle up to comment on the work. The intention behind art critique is to get better. To see things we’d missed because we were too close to the process. This is hard, it is especially hard with peers. Yet, I haven’t met anyone who didn’t want this, or had a positive experience with it.
Making room for candid conversation with the intention of improving is uncomfortable. Despite wanting this kind of feedback it takes incredible vulnerability to get here. A good art critique is not something we jump into. It’s a process. We have to warm up and get used to the water and everyones comments. Get used to looking at the our personal work next to those who are obviously more skilled. It’s this transition into the critique that makes it or breaks it. As someone who has facilitated a few art critiques, brain trusts, post mortems, come to Jesus (whatever you want to call them) there is one key factor that consistently makes the transition work. A willingness to vulnerable. Showing vulnerability at the beginning puts people at ease. Breaking the ice in a way that allows the candid conversation to be candid. Any real critique must be based in honesty. This morning at the gym I got into a brief conversation with one of the other regulars. He was moving a little slower than normal. So, I asked if he was alright. His response surprised me. After telling me the workout was feeling extra hard, he told me he also does jujitsu 4-5 days a week in the evening. “That,” he said, “I need. Working out is something I have to do, but jujitsu is like going to church for me.”
That last bit stuck me. I would have never described church as being something I need, but I knew exactly what he meant. At different parts of my life this need for me was filled by things like, music, improv, or art. Writing, and even the gym fill that role now. It’s hard for me to accept the things I need. It makes me feel needy. Instead I brush them off as no big deal, setting them aside. After a period of time I start to feel outside myself. A little off, like something is wrong. When I’ve finally had enough of that I finally “go to church” - pick up my guitar, spend some time writing, lift something heavy - and the world falls back into place. This is what I think people mean by taking care of my mental health. As a parent I want the best for my kids. That’s a paradox. Giving my kids “the best” often means giving them what’s good for them, which is sometimes nothing, and sometimes a hard truth that will eventually turn into “the best”. During college I hit a difficult transition. I had to pick up a “real” job while going to school. The real job was stocking shelves during the night shift at a grocery store. I made good money and had benefits. But I was spending my days in class, and evenings, before work, in rehearsal. I quickly hit a wall, and was unsure if I could do it. I wanted to quit. One night before work, I sat in my car on the verge of a melt down. I called my dad and explained the situation. He patiently listened. I don’t remember him saying anything. But what he didn’t do was solve my problem. He let me figure out. He didn’t leave me stranded either. He was there to listen and be sounding board, but ultimately it was up to me to solve my own problem. I had to make some adjustments to both my work and school schedule, but I made it work. In a professional setting I appreciate this same dynamic. I rarely want my boss to solve my problem, but sometimes I need advice. What’s tricky is recognizing this same dynamic when it’s my turn to advise. Especial with new staff who need a lot of coaching and training. It’s so much easier to just solve the problem, and let them solve the next one. The more I do that the less they learn and the less time I have to get my work done. The less likely there will be a next one. As someone who is interested in leading, it’s important to see the opportunity in these transitions. It’s tricky to prioritize taking the time to coach and train. I recently found L. David Marquet’s Leadership Ladder. It’s a series of phrases that help turn these transitions into an opportunity. Helping the other person (either your kid or your colleague) to shift their perspective and take ownership. They are designed to empower. It’s nice to have this kind of tactic in your back pocket to use when the need arises.  The taste talent gap described by Ira Glass is built on a foundation of judgment. Being judgmental about the quality of a product or result is what hopefully pushes me to create something better. Seeing that my taste is greater than my talent I spend the energy it takes improve my skills.
But in practice, that judgment is driven by comparison of others which get in the way of my own progress. Comparing myself to where others who have been in their industries for 20+ years is a losing game. There’s no way to catch up. The only thing that makes sense is to compare to a former self. Then when my skills get developed rely on my taste to create the product and result I was originally looking for. I recently came across an entrepreneur whose catchphrase is: There’s riches in niches. Knowing how to do one thing really really really well is the path to success and to fulfillment. In his book, So Good They Can’t Ignore You, Cal Newport talks about the benefits of committing to an industry and field and the developing a passion for the work rather than the internet supported Passion-lead path. Last night I read about the history of building in The Checklist Manifesto: For most of modern history…going back a medieval times, the dominant way people put up buildings was by going out and hiring Master Builders who designed them, engineered them, and oversaw construction from start no finish, portico to plumbing, Master Builders built Notre Dame, St. Peters Basilica, and the United States Capitol building. But by the middle of the twentieth century the Master Builders were dead and gone. The variety and sophistication of advancements in every stage of the construction process had overwhelmed the abilities of any individual to master them. It’s easy to see parallels in other industries. This idea of becoming a super-specialist is supported by the use of data collection is just about every industry. Where the data allows to make more informed decision about the specific problems in our specific industry for a specific customer. Further supporting the customization of everything.
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