I am the last one up tonight

I didn’t need to be, but I am the last one up tonight. Well, Riley and me.

But I am, because I was watching a movie and (not really) working.

You are asleep. Your little Paddington Bear is snuggled up on your chest. My last acts before bed are easy. First, I put a blanket over you so you and Paddington wouldn’t get cold. I will crawl into bed and try to pray a little. Then I will kiss your mother, who is already sleeping, goodnight - as quietly as I can.

It took me awhile to really understand it, truly, but I know that these are the most important jobs I will ever do. No matter how I earn a living. Nothing could be more important than being your mother’s husband and you and your brother’s papa. Nothing.

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The beautiful, boring, lunch with Bo

I had the afternoon with Bo today. We had a late lunch because his nap extended past 1pm. I had an apple for dessert. Which is funny because when you’re above 30, an apple can actually count as dessert.

In any case, I asked Bo if he wanted to have some too. Bo enjoys fruit as much as I do, so he responded with a characteristic “ya.”

I cut a plane of it off the side and made it into small pieces, about the size of corn kernels.

And then about halfway through eating his slice of apple, he gently put a tiny piece between his thumb and forefinger and leaned in my direction, offering it to me. I opened my palm. He placed it inside. I ate it. It was nice, and very nice of him.

This, in our household, was not a special moment. it was business as usual. It’s not uncommon for Bo, or any other child I suppose, to offer a bit of food to his father. It was something so small, and so fast. Nobody would ever instagram a moment like that, and even if I tried I wouldn’t be able to - the moment passed too quickly. I took a breath in, and by the time I let my breath out the moment was over.

But in a given day these are the moments. They are small. They go quickly. They are not notable. By and large, nobody else will ever know about them.

But they are my life. These are the glimmers I will remember when my brain and body start to fail. All these little moments built up, a sinew that binds my mind and spirt together. Probably 98% or more of my life is these moments, that are boring and un-momentus as it were.

But I love them. The memory of how Robyn’s flip flops clap as we walk our boys down the sidewalk of our street on a Sunday morning. The particular way the water tastes from only our tap. The way Robyn squeezes my big toe when I need to move my leg for her to rise from the couch. Riley’s semi-frequent snoring. The very distinctive crackling of mustard or cumin seeds in the pan when my mom makes a vegetable for dinner. When my father would giggle at his own jokes, in the rare instance that he tried really hard to make one.

The extreme-vast-majority of my life are these little moments and idiosyncrasies that come in an out like a beating heart.

Which is perhaps why I have slowly lost interest in living in a way that produces notable moments. Living moment to moment, I’ve found is a distraction from actual life. I do treasure big moments when they come - like marriage, the birth of a child, or an accomplishment I’m proud of at work. But that is not life.

Those are merely milestones. Life is everything in between. I’ve been coming to a conclusion that the measure of my life is how I choose to act during the mundane but supremely special moments of everyday life. What’s difficult is that everyone else (that doesn’t really, really matter) measures my life by the number and magnitude of big moments I have. Because that’s all they can see, they’re not around for the small stuff and therefore can’t measure it.

Letting go of everyone else that doesn’t matter is so hard, because the big moments that those people care about are so much easier to measure. I think the key is listening. Because by listening we can focus on being the best person we can be in the 98% of moments that nobody else will ever remember, singing the songs that are playing deeply within our own hearts, and letting the big moments be a gift and a surprise when they arrive, rather than an aspiration.

I think Sister Mary Clarance and Ferris Bueller both had it right.

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Reading for fun

Why read?

The practical crowd may argue that literacy is important because it’s a necessary skill to function in society and earn a living. Reading is fundamental. We can’t be productive compliant members of society if we don’t read.

Womp. Womp. Womp.

What a terrible way to convince someone to read who doesn’t read or can’t.

Here’s how I would persuade someone instead.

East of Eden changed the way I see myself and the world. I love pulling up Wikipedia on anything from Roger Federer to the Fermi Paradox, to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Reading to my son at bedtime is arguably the best part of my day, every day. You can read mysteries, or about your own family history. Talking to other people about books is so fun. Reading has made me laugh and cry so damn much, and it’s great.

You can read a letter from your mother and father, long after they are gone. Or you can read a letter from your wife, that makes you feel full of love and soul, over and over and over again. The letters I have from Robyn are among my most prized possessions.

You can read poems or ancient religious texts that make you feel more human.

I do care about literacy. I think 100% literacy is an extremely important goal. But come on. How can anyone think they’re going to convince someone to care about reading by talking about how it can help them get a job or get into a famous college? There are so many more emotionally resonant ways to persuade someone that reading is awesome.

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Parenthood has made me less happy, and I’m cool with that

I’ve come to embrace the research which suggests that being a parent is bad for our individual happiness. Parents I now, myself included, have a lot of things that get in the way of being as happy as we were before.

Parents get crummy sleep. We stress about money. We have less free time, because we are tending to a kid. We don’t exercise as much, generally speaking. We don’t get to hang out with friends or go on dates as much as we used to. We also feel terrible pain and anxiety when our kids are going through struggles. We are split between work and home more intensely than our childless peers.

With all that added stress, no wonder parents are less happy, or at least not happier than non-parents.

But, that’s okay. I’m willing to have my happiness decline, because I’ve gained so much - patience, intimacy, love, silliness, peace, and confidence. And probably more. As a parent, I’ve traded happiness for so many other things.

I’ll take it. Happiness is such a temporary state of being anyway.

—

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I don’t need to be special

I don’t need you to give me special treatment. I don’t need you to pronounce my name correctly. I don’t need you to hold the door for me or even smile as you walk by.

I don’t need you to give me preferential college admissions or pay me dollar-for-dollar the same as the next person. I don’t even need you to stop asking if I’m “a doctor or in IT, right?”

I don’t need you to realize that the white woman walking next to me is my wife. I don’t need you to do me a solid with the restaurant manager. I don’t need you to let me into the golf and tennis club. If it’s easier, you can keep assuming that that Indian person you met really does look just like me. You can keep believing yoga is all about “working out” if it suits you.

I don’t need a political party to pay attention to my individual needs. I don’t need a candidate to look like me, either. I don’t need you to understand the tenets of Hinduism or my complex spiritual upbringing.

I don’t need you to give me a trigger warning. I don’t need you to sugar coat the truth. Even though it would be fun, you don’t have to invite me to your party or get to know me and my individual story.

All these things would be nice, but I don’t need to be treated specially. What I would like is to be treated with respect and decency. And if we disagree, I’d like to resolve it peacefully.

If you could do that, it would be enough for me.

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Breaking the cycle of this foolishness

I am finally understanding why I felt the way I have (anxiety and sometimes debilitating stress) as an adult. There’s finally data (check out this Knowledge Project Podcast with moral psychologist Jonathan Haidt for a flavor) which is showing that that social media, isolation, helicopter parenting, etc. are having an effect on us (millennials and zillenials).

I’ve grieved my history and am trying to move on - I don’t want to feel like a victim anymore.

But how?

There is meditation, cognitive behavioral therapy, journaling and reflection, exercise and perhaps more strategies.

But how do you undo decades of acculturation and mental programming?

We know the causes and the effects of the stress, anxiety, or depression many of us feel - or are at least starting to know enough. But what to do? What does it mean? What comes next?

I think we heal in the best ways we know how. I think we resist the causes of our collective demons. I think we look out for each other, because I honestly don’t think older generations care, or if they do, they don’t know how to help. I think we meditate, pray, exercise, seek therapy, journal, quit toxic environments, or do whatever works for us.

But Robyn also brought up how we can raise our son and future children differently. We don’t have to obsess over what they’ll “be” when they grow up. We don’t have to let them have a Facebook account when they’re in middle school. We don’t have to shield them from every damn situation where they might struggle. We don’t.

We can break the cycle of this foolishness, and that may be a greatest gift we could give our kids. And as Robyn pointed out to me today, that may also be the best way for us to learn how to heal too.

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Reverse Recruiting

I imagine how much different life in our country would be if when people went to work, important, valuable, sustainably profitable work is what actually happened. I care about this a lot, because I deeply believe that wasting human potential is inefficient and immoral.

To be able to have these sorts of workplaces, I believe it’s essential to have the right people are in the right roles.

I believe that life is built in the off season. When applying that belief to talent management, it suggests that the best time to recruit is when you don’t need to fill a job in a hurry. Wouldn’t it be so much better - both for companies and candidates - if we already had a pool of interested candidates that were a skill-set and culture fit, before the job were ever posted?

If that intuition is correct, here’s how I think it could actually be put into practice. Imagine if there were a mechanism like the college common app, except for jobs and hiring. I’d love to hear what you think, especially if you’re an HR professional (or have ever been part of a frustrating hiring process).

Here’s how it would work:

• First, the candidate takes everything that you would find on a LinkedIn profile and import it into a profile. This could be supplemented with a portfolio of work, confidential letters of referral, or instruments like StrengthsFinder.

• Second, the candidate identifies companies they would be interested in working for, were an opportunity available. They’d also identify broadly defined functional areas they were interested in.

• Next, the candidate records video answers to a mix of general interview questions - both prepared and extemporaneous. Some questions could be added that are specific to the companies they are interested in working for.

• Then the companies take over. They could review and filter the profiles of interested parties and build a pool of candidates for different functional areas. For individuals they think are great fits, they could connect individually or hold invite-only recruitment events a few times a year.

• Then, when a job comes up, the process is improved in two ways:

  • It moves faster for the company and for the candidate, because there are loads of people that are already through what would be covered in a first-round interview

  • There’s a better fit for both parties because the initial pool of candidates has been built over time, rather than in a hurry when a job is posted. Quantity drives quality.

Again, the whole goal is to have the right people in the right roles, 100% of the time. Do you think this idea actually solves that problem?

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Everyone has real struggle

Struggle is a part of life. The question is how will I deal with it?

One path is a transfer. This is when I take my pain and suffering and put it into someone else’s shoulders.

Another path is self-transformation. This is when I improve my own ability to deal with pain and suffering.

A third path is denial. This is when I delude and distract myself so I can pretend the pain and suffering doesn’t exist or isn’t that bad.

The fourth path is collaborative. This is when I work to alleviate or better handle my own pain and suffering in a way that helps or teaches others do the same.

I don’t know if there is an always “right” path. There are probably times and places where each path is the most right (or most possible).

What I’ve realized to be true is that every person, no matter what phase of life they are in, is struggling in some way that is significant. Whether rich or poor, young or old, healthy or sick - everyone has some real struggle.

If that is true, however, some of the four paths seem less reasonable than others. If I know with certainty that the person in front of me is struggling, how do I dump more on them or deny the struggle in the first place?

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Jealous of Bo

I am jealous of my son.  

I wish his childhood was mine, or that mine were more like his.  

He is surrounded by family. He has a deeper relationship with his grandparents, and more time with them already, than I did in my whole life. He has met 3 great grandparents.  

He knows his aunts, uncles, aunties, Godparents, and great aunts & uncles. He even knows the family friends of his grandparents.  

He lives in a mixed-race community. His mom is home with him twice during the work week. God willing, he will have a sibling in a few months. He has an older dog-brother.

He has so much that I didn’t.

We spend so much time as men, at least my buddies and I do, thinking about being providers and feeling the pressure of that identity.  

And yet, even though we are MUCH wealthier than my parents were at his age. That has rarely crossed my mind.  

Perhaps jealous is the wrong word. Gratefully envious is perhaps better. But whatever that word is, thank God that I’m it.  

— 

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Imagine if at work...

Imagine if at work...

...there were no emergencies when you got there in the morning, and were generally rare…

...meetings started and ended on time…

 ...competition for promotions wasn’t a clobberfest…

...everyone spent nearly 100% of the time on something that was valuable…

...priorities and anti-priorities were clear…

 ...saying please and thank you were common and sincere…

...when you arrived and left was flexible and predictable…

...interruptions were always important and worth it…

...everyone knew, believed in, and worked the bugs out of the plan…

...the customer’s voice was loud and clear…

...the product was so valuable that margins were comfortable and the customer sold it for you…

...you could always count on everyone to act with integrity…

…and no heroes, all-stars, or herculean efforts were ever needed because we had the right team in place all along.

Imagine if work - that is important, valuable, and sustainably profitable - is actually what happened at work.

For work to actually happen at work, there are three absolute musts: product-market fit, a sustainably profitable business model, and talent-role fit. Strategy is the process to figure out these three things, which makes strategy indispensable too.

Selfless Storytellers

I would’ve never expected Jimmy Fallon’s children’s books - Your Baby’s First Word Will Be Dada and Everything is Mama -  to be among my favorites to read at Bo’s bedtime. They are so simple, elegant, and fun. Bo can follow-along and participate in telling the story. They’re charming and illustrated well. The premise of each is simple but impactful. I like them.

His books don’t heavy-handedly convey a life lesson, either. They just get out of the way of themselves, and still do convey a simple, but special idea, in a way that’s really lovely.

The books we have by Philip and Erin Stead are the same way. We have three (well, four, but one is for bigger kids and we haven’t read it yet), thanks to our friends Mike and Jenny - A Sick Day for Amos Mcgee, A Home For Bird, and Lenny and Lucy. They all are about friendship in one way or another. But they don’t ever explicitly say “friendship is important and great”, they just show it in a way that lasts in your mind.

I bring this up because it’s such a generous way to tell a story. It lets the story be ours. It lets Bo figure important things out on his own. It takes the spotlight off of the author’s opinion. It leaves room for discovery and contemplation. It’s so selfless because it puts the emphasis on the story instead of the author.

There are plenty of children’s books that aren’t like this. Some beat you over the head with an idea. These stories are presumptuous and boring. Other stories are mindless and unrooted in any sort of theme.

Bravo to the storytellers out there who put the story ahead of themselves as the author. It’s hard to explain without reading the story, so here’s a link of Jimmy Fallon reading one of his books.

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I am not a perfect being. I will never be a god. I will die. ​

I am not a perfect being. I will never be a god. I will die.  

I need to write it. And say it, out loud.  

I asked this on Facebook: 

I judge myself unfairly, painfully, and harshly. You might too. Why do we do this?

One friend shared that  “We beat ourselves up first so it doesn’t seem so bad or hurt when others do it to us.”

Another reminded me that self-perfection is a myth. What’s only possible is self-mastery, being our best selves. As he put it, if we condemn ourselves after mistakes, we are agreeing with “the lie.”

I spend my life wedged between these two ideas. I expect self-perfection and thrash myself before others do, because I know it isn’t possible.  

And I want to be perfect because praise has turned out to be a toxic element in my life. But more than that - deep down I know that being perfect is the only way to live forever, to not die. And death intimidates me to the point of fearing it. It is, perhaps, the root of all my fears.

Which is why I must say it, out loud.  

I am not a perfect being. I will never be a god. I will die.

 —

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Highs and Lows

Every night (almost) at dinner, Robyn and I talk about highs, lows, and proud moments*.

Heres how it works: 

• One us asks - “What we’re your highs, lows, and proud moments?”

• That persons shares

• Then we switch

This is a nice ritual for us for a few reasons: 

• We catch up on the day

• We get to read each other’s emotional state and energy

• We get to vent if we need to and move on

• We get to cherish life’s sweet but little moments

But more than anything it’s a lens into our values and a check to ensure that we’re not valuing the wrong things.  

For example, if I said my proud moment is “I made a lot of money today”, I’m revealing something about what I’m valuing. I’m forcing myself to say it out loud and acknowledge it.

And in that moment, I can correct myself and choose to find a different moment to be proud of that aligns with my true values instead of society’s. And that course correction retrains my brain on what I want to and should be proud of.

It’s a great reflection practice that’s very effective, but very quick and easy.  

*March 16, 2020 Edit - In recent months, we’ve shifted from “what were your proud moments?” to “what did you learn today?”.

Technology, power, and ethics

Technology is growing and accelerating. That allows humans, in particular those who have technology to do more.

This creates power asymmetry because technology requires capital, and capital is unevenly distributed and inconsistently used. This causes an uneven distribution of technology.   

And technology is a form of power. If you have better technology you can do more than the person next to you whether that doing is making widgets, building relationships, learning, or fighting wars.  

Which I think is not inherently a problem. But when there are large imbalances of power between people, people often act dangerously. 

What worries me about technology is not the power asymmetry it creates, per se. Rather, it’s that cultural interest in technology isn’t accompanied by an equal or greater cultural interest in ethics, morality, and the development of human character.

If technology gives us more power, then we need to get better at wielding that powerful technology responsibly. Or else, we will probably treat each other more and more dangerously.

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Murder doesn’t make sense

Murder doesn’t make sense. I hope you don’t ever have to make sense of it. In fact, I pray that you don’t.

Because it doesn’t. 

And if you try to make sense of it, and justify it or rationalize it, it steals a part of your soul. 

Someone I know, one of my colleagues and teammates was murdered this week. And I only met her a few months ago.  

But it still doesn’t make sense.  Nor should it. Because murder is senseless. It’s incapable of sense.

Murder doesn’t make sense.  

 —

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American work counter culture is special.

Taking a moment and a breath to forgive “you”, American work culture, was something I wish had done much sooner. 

Besides feeling human again, instead of just angry, It’s opened my heart to remembering that as much as I struggle with American work culture, there are moments where I am grateful for it.

Because just as there is a strong work culture in America, there’s also a strong and growing counter culture. If you’re someone who resists the dominant culture non-violently, thanks for doing what you do.

I have been part of moments of extraordinary humanity at work. Like when my father had a heart attack. Or when people have hit major milestones. Or when we’ve stumbled upon an “aha.” Or when someone made a huge difference to a customer and we’ve received a letter back. Or when I’ve received deeply personal and sincere advice, feedback, or criticism.

I have deep gratitude for how you have shown me extraordinary kindness, acted with integrity, and treated me with dignity. Thank you.

If you’re part of the counter culture, let’s keep slowly but surely making things more human and more humane.  

 —

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Our son’s laughter

Children make a lot of sounds. A lot.  

They cry, scream, shout, and such. But I didn’t realize until we had Bo, how much they laugh, giggle, whisper, and yawp, too.  

I understand now why people love to have kids in a house. When kids are around a house has the sounds of life. Tables and chairs don’t make a peep. Children do. And those sounds indicate that there’s life there.  

I really love it when our son laughs, and he’s got a great laugh. But I don’t mind so much when he cries, either. Because the sounds of children make a house feel like a home.  

We can do this

Guys, we can do this. 

We can raise our sons to be good men. I feel it’s impossible sometimes, like I will be the one to drop the ball and dishonor my lineage. Like the world is just too crazy and I can’t counteract its influence.  

Like there are just too many pressures or moments I can’t control. That I may let him down and that’s terrifying. But we can do this guys. We can be the fathers our sons need.  

And we matter. We can’t believe that we’re supplemental figures in our sons’ lives, and that we’re only nice to haves. Mothers are essential and so are we.  

That is a weighty responsibility, because it means we can’t let ourselves off the hook. But we can do this.  

We can show them what it means to be honest. We can show the how to make sacrifices. We can show them how to pray and apologize. We can do this.  

We can show them how to treat their partners, friends, and family with respect. We can show them how to love. We can show them how to listen and persist through suffering. We can show them how to express their deepest feelings.  

We can do this.  

I don’t offer advice or wisdom. Just a word, and the affirmation that we’re in this together.  

We can do this fellas. We can raise our sons to be good men.  

In any job this should be clear and compelling

If you use a version of this with your team, please let me know how it goes so that I can improve it.

The customers we serve have a deep conviction that __________. 

As a company we are committed to providing __________ so our customers are able to _________. Our customers want to be treated by us __________.

As a team, we are the folks in the company people come to for ________. Our work is important because ________.

My job is to deliver _______ to _______ in a manner that is ________. Our customers are happy to pay for this because ________. 

 ———

If this isn’t clear and compelling it’s likely that ________.

There are so many roses, if only we stop to smell them

There are so many roses if only we stop to smell them.

When my father went ahead, it laid me out. After nearly thirty years of being busy and “hustling” for something or another, everything stopped. I had no choice but to stop, it was involuntary. I couldn’t help but stop.

And that, as weird as it sounds, was a gift. Because stopping, fully stopping, after my pops went ahead made me really thing. And I realized that I was living the way society expected me to - aspiring to be rich, powerful, and popular - instead of listening to my own heart. When I stopped to listen, my own heart was telling me that I wanted, more than anything, to be a good husband, father, and neighbor.

And when I stopped to listen to my own heart, the rest of my senses did something too. They helped me grasp, in full measure, the roses. Life’s roses. And there are so many roses. There are so many roses if we only stop to smell them.

There is the rose of marriage, and deep intimate relationships. There is the rose of new friendships, and rekindling old ones. There is the rose of children - our own and our nieces, nephews, and neighbors’ kids. There is the rose of learning, and really thirsting for knowledge and truth. There is the rose of peace, and prayer too.

And there are even everyday roses. Hot coffee. A good laugh paired with a good beer, amongst friends. A walk with our pup around the neighborhood. Family dinner. The same kiss goodnight, every night we can. A late night conversation about something important with someone you love. A stolen afternoon nap. Chocolate. These are all roses.

To be sure, stopping is scary. Pressing through boredom and being left in the dark tunnel of my own thoughts is downright terrifying, if I’m doing it right at least.  

But for me it’s been so worth it. Because after stopping, and wallowing in my own thoughts I learned to smell. And I began to see that there are so many roses, if only we stop to smell them.