In this election, no touchdown dances from me

I want to say this now, to my friends, before election day. This is what you can expect from me:

• I am voting on election day.

• I will not be voting for the incumbent President, President Trump.

• If the incumbent President is reelected in a free and fair election, I will not complain or bellyache or make excuses. I will not act like a sore loser.

• If the incumbent President is not reelected in a free and fair election, I will not rub anyone’s nose in it. No “I told you so”, no taunting, no finger wagging, no touchdown dances. I will not act like a sore winner.

Why? Because I don’t think that’s what it’s about.

For me, the real victory is holding a free and fair election, with a peaceful transition of power. And, the whole point of a free and fair election is for all of us to vote freely and fairly. The tactic of potentially casting you as a shameful outsider because you don’t vote the same way as I do is a tactic, I think, that’s inconsistent with the spirit of a free and fair election. I won’t do it.

Moreover, an election is not the end of a journey to celebrate (save for the people who worked hard on the campaign, in private, perhaps). The election is the beginning of a new season, where someone has earned privilege and responsibility to govern for four years. I don’t celebrate at the beginning of a long hike up a mountain, I rejoice after our crew has safely returned home. I can’t think of a reason why elections would be any different.

Which brings me to a final point in conclusion. I’m not the sort of person who relishes competition, or is motivated by winning. So, this attitude of no touchdown dances is not something that’s unique to this election. It’s how I operate in all aspects of my life. So why bother writing this post?

Because I’m not really writing this with my Republican friends in mind. I’m intending to speak most directly to my friends who are also not planning to reelect the incumbent President.

And to you, my Democratic friends - no matter how you act during this election, I’m not going to judge you (and the same goes for friends who are not Democratic supporters).

But I ask that you don’t act like a sore winner or a sore loser. And it will be easy for us to fall into doing both.

Because at the end of the day, I think we all have to think of ourselves as being on the same team. We’re trying to create a country where we can live free lives. A country where people don’t die senseless deaths. And perhaps even a country that contributes to an international community that cooperates to defend our species and planet against existential threats. None of these are guarantees, as we’ve seen during the Covid-19 pandemic.

The universe is a dangerous and lonely place, as far as we know. Our republic, our planet, and our species are fragile. We have to work hard to have a chance of any of the three surviving in perpetuity.

The challenges ahead of us are really quite difficult. We have to play as one team to increase the long-run chances that our still nascent, free republic and we as a species, survive. No team I’ve ever been on plays its best when there’s infighting about the starting lineup.

I don’t want to start the next four years with infighting.

Of course, I know that I can’t control anybody’s actions but my own, nor do I want to. My hope here is that by laying out my intentions in advance and explaining my rationale it may lead others to carefully set intentions for their own conduct.

A Bill of Responsibilities

I am writing this post during the Covid-19 pandemic. And these days, whether or not I choose to wear a mask is a political statement. There are a lot of reasons to be bothered by this. It bothers me because wearing a mask is no longer as generous.

For example, If wearing a mask is perceived as a political statement, it’s harder for me to convey that I care about the strangers in public who surround me. If wearing a mask is perceived as a political statement, it distracts from the love I hope to give to my neighbor. If wearing a mask is perceived as a political statement, it’s harder to see it as a gift.

And this got me to thinking about the Bill of Rights (if you know me, you’ll probably not be surprised by this - a lot brings me back to the Bill of Rights). Yes, any of those 10 rights are mine to ask of the government. But it’s also a privilege (and essential) for me to emphasize and take seriously the responsibilities they imply.

So I figured I’d try something out - reimagining the Bill of Rights by adding a call and response and thinking about it more as a Bill of Responsibilities.

First Amendment

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances…

And we agree to embrace the spirit of this foundational first amendment by listening carefully to those sharing their ideas, lifting up the quietest of voices, and holding ourselves to the same standard of peacefulness, civility, and integrity as we hold others.

Second Amendment

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

And we will work tirelessly to reconcile our differences peacefully, with the hope that Arms will never need to be used to resolve conflict.

Third Amendment

No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.

And we will work to resolve international conflicts so that soldiers need not go to war except in the most egregious of circumstances, and we will care for all that make sacrifices for the nation.

Fourth Amendment

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

And if we commit a crime, we will support the process of restoring and repairing what that crime has broken.

Fifth Amendment

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

And if we make a mistake that harms our fellow citizens, we will admit it honestly so that what has been broken can be restored and repaired.

Sixth Amendment

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.

And we will dig deep into our hearts and souls to prevent our anger for crimes committed to make public trials unfair or vengeful.

Seventh Amendment

In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.

And we will help our friends, family, and neighbors who become entangled in a conflict to reconcile their differences before an injury between parties occurs.

Eighth Amendment

Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

And we will help those convicted of crimes to rehabilitate so that they can rejoin the community someday.

Ninth Amendment

The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

And we will work to build strong companies, families, and communities of freely associating people, thereby reducing the circumstances under which the government has to exercise its powers.

Tenth Amendment

The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.

And we, the people of the United States of America, accept the difficult responsibilities that a government by the people and for the people requires.

Turning my inner-critic into a coach

My inner-critic and I have a long, quarrelsome history together. He (my inner-critic is male) was a jerk for a really long time.

He started coming around in middle school. He told me that I should be afraid, especially of talking with girls I had pre-teen crushes on. And then he made me feel terrified of failure in high school. He led me astray in college by making me try to fit the cookie-cutter mold of pre-law, even though I didn’t want to.

Then as a young adult, he reminded me how lonely I was, and rubbed my nose in how I didn’t have a graduate degree or a high enough public profile. He made me feel like garbage about how little I was dating and how I needed to be more elite (his opinion, not mine).

Then, on top of all that - as I approached my early thirties, he scared me into thinking I was not good enough at my job or getting promoted fast enough. When I felt like doing something difficult, unorthodox, or unexpected he naysayed me, “naw you shouldn’t do that, that’s not for you to do” he would say. He also told me, so often, to take instead of give, indulge instead of restrain, ignore instead of love.

Over the course of years he has shamed, scared, cajoled, and ridiculed me. Like I said, he was a jerk for a long time.

I write often about reflection because I think it’s really important. Reflection is the engine that drives learning from experience. I’ve been developing a practice of structured reflection for over 15 years now, and I’ve been working on a project to share what I’ve learned. Reflection is what I’m probably best at and most serious about.

What I’ve realized in the past week, is that reflection is more than just the abstract notion of “learning from experience.” In retrospect, reflection has been a process that has improved my relationship with my inner-critic at least ten-fold. Reflection has transformed my inner-critic and made him into a damn good coach.

This is why I’m becoming something of an evangelist for developing a practice of structured reflection, similar to how someone might run, lift weights, do yoga, pray, or meditate. Almost everyone I’ve had a heart-to-heart conversation with alludes to their inner-critic and how terrible theirs is to them, too.

We all have to manage our own critic, and it seems more useful to channel them rather than silence them.

But how?

Structured reflection - over the course of time - was sort of like having a crucial conversation along these lines, with my inner-critic:

Alright buddy, our relationship is not working out. We need to do something different. You can’t harass me anymore. You’re either going to help me get better, or I’m going to replace you with someone who does.

Here’s a piece of paper with what I believe and how I want to be better. This is what you’re going to coach me to do.

I need you to coach me hard. I need you to be honest, specific, and encouraging. Sometimes, I’m going to need you to give me tough love and tell me hard truths. I understand that. But you will not make me feel like shit and shutdown while you do that. I need you to push me to be the highest version of myself. I need you need to be my coach, not my critic.

You will not heckle me right before I take a leap and do something hard, that we’ve agreed is important to do. In turn, I promise to work hard during practice and listen to what you coach me to do. The only way this is going to work is if we have a symbiotic relationship. need you to get better and you need me because you’ll have nothing to do if I shut you out.

Do we have an understanding?

I did not intend for this to happen when I started to get really serious about practicing reflection. But in retrospect, working through a structured set of reflective prompts and practicing them religiously has given my inner-critic no choice but to become my coach.

---

Thanks to two friends - Alison and Glenn - who connected some really important dots in my head on this subject. They probably don’t even realized they gave me that gift.

Visualizing the Highest Version of Ourselves

I feel so many pressures to “be” very specific, culturally-prescribed, things. Be productive. Be smart. Be professional. Be loving and kind. Be pious. Be cool.

And being all these things is so confusing, because being one seems to conflict with another, much of the time.

Lately, I’ve wondering if I could stop trying to be something specific and try to just be the highest version of myself. Paradoxically, maybe trying to be the best of everything would actually be liberating.

And that’s when this thought experiment came to be. Like an athlete visualizing peak performance in their sport, what if I picked a specific environment in my day-to-day life and just visualized being the “highest” version of myself? It could be in a meeting at work. When with my family on vacation. When running. When mowing the lawn. Doesn’t matter - it could be any environment.

In any environment, what if we tried to imagine the highest version of ourselves? Would we be more likely to live up to it? Would the process change us? Would we be more or less frustrated at ourselves?

I didn’t know, so I gave it a try. I don’t think you need to read my reflection (below), unless you want to. I include it only to illustrate what I mean.

What I will say is this, I did this on a whim, just to see what would happen. And I don’t know what will happen in the future.

But after I did this thought experiment (in italics below), I had a tingling feeling in my lower abdomen. Not the queasy stomach feeling, but the kind of tingling you feel when you are about to give someone a gift on their birthday. Or the butterflies you get at the last step before solving an equation in math class. Or when the curtain goes up at the theater.

If you want to, give it a try. Just take the sentence below and replace what’s after the ellipsis with something relevant to you. I hope you get the same warm, tingling feeling if you try it for yourself.

I close my eyes as I type this, and push myself to imagine the highest version of myself in a typical situation…in this case when eating dinner, with my family, on a week night, 12 years from now.

I am at the dinner table. Specifically, our dinner table at home with my wife and kids. It is about 12 years from now - say in 2032. We are eating tacos, the same way we have every other Tuesday for nearly 15 years. It’s early autumn. We all sit quietly and pass our dinner around the table, everyone taking a turn. We are light and easy and comfortable feeling, because we are home. Robyn is laughing with one of the boys about a new joke they heard from a son’s friend on their way home from school - Robyn had pickup duty today. I laugh as I put a dollop of sour cream atop a small mound of avocado. Even though I am assembling a taco, I’m paying close attention to everyone. I look up, giggling at the joke.

I scan the room with my eyes only, this is my opportunity to check how everyone is feeling. If they are laughing as they normally do, all is well. I see our other son crack a smile but he doesn’t laugh. Hmm, how unlike him.

I quickly look down at everyone’s plate. Normal, normal, normal, hmm. Our same son, the one that didn’t laugh didn’t take as many tomatoes as he normally does. How unlike him. I sit up straight and start my meal, keeping him in the corner of my eye softly.

We do our nightly ritual of catching up on the day, and we do our “highs and lows”. My son seems to be his normal self, but his eyes are wandering a little bit. There’s something distracting him. I decide instantaneously that I should try talking to him after dinner. I mentally note that and focus my attention back on the entire family and our meal, so I don’t disengage myself.

As we start to break from the table, I ask, “Son, could you help me store the dog food? It’s a pretty big bag and my wrist still hurts from playing tennis yesterday.”

I probably could store the dog food myself. But my wrist IS still sore and I want to create the space for him to open up.

I ask him as he opens the container, “So bud, what have you been thinking about lately?” As he pours the kibble into the bucket, he starts to talk. He mentions a friend off-hand and how he had to cancel on their weekly study session.

I see my opening, but I opt not to take it. Instead I say, “Hey bud, since you’re already over here would you mind helping me load the dishwasher?” When he agrees, I smile extra wide and say thank you.

We chit chat the whole time. Just as we load our last plate, my son pauses, seeming to collect his thoughts. And then he hesitates. I wait . Then I gently raise my eyebrows to let him know that it’s his turn to speak if he wants to.

He takes my cue. Then he says, “Hey papa, have any of your friends ever avoided you?”

I take a moment, and pour two glasses of water. I motion him over to the now spotless dinner table.

“Yeah bud, sometimes. Let’s relax for a minute and I’ll tell you about it.”

Here Comes the Sun

We are a family that sings.

It has always been this way. When we first started dating, your mother and I would sing along to the radio when on car rides. And both of us grew up in households radiating with music, because your grandparents love music.

Even the city where we live, Detroit, has a musical history. Motown Music - which your mother and I adore - was one of the most beloved sub-genres of music in the 20th century, and originated just a few miles from our house.

Your older brother sings to you when you are crying, already, just like your mother and I do.

I love to sing to you. And as it happens, you and your brother love the Beatles. Each of you, from the time you were both a few weeks old, took a liking to a specific Beatles song. In those early newborn days, I would try singing anything to rock you both to sleep and the Beatles are what you both responded to.

The Beatles song that comforts you, Here Comes the Sun, is a lovely tune. And it suits you.

One of the best ways to describe your emerging personality is that it is sunny. Your mother would often say, even at a month or two old, that "Myles is just happy to be here." Your smile and disposition, my son, is warm and calming.

By many accounts, your birth came at a dark time in contemporary human history. Just a few weeks after you were born, the novel coronavirus began spreading rapidly across the world, causing the worst pandemic any living person has ever seen.

The economic fallout of worldwide quarantine was also the most significant economic disruption any living person has probably ever lived through. And just a few weeks ago, the murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police sparked global protests of police violence and racism, which again, are unprecedented.

You arrived in our arms just in time for a truly exceptional time in history.

On the surface, then, the song that soothes you seems ironically timed. The coming of the springtime sun seems out of tune with the arrival of a global pandemic, depression, and episode of civil unrest. Indeed, when I first realized that Here Comes the Sun helped settle you for sleep, when I sang it to you I thought of it as a prayer. I wanted the long, cold, lonely winter to subside. I hoped for the sun to come, and soon.

But recently I've wondered if the timing of Here Comes the Sun rising to prominence in our lives was not a prayer, but rather a sign that a prayer was being answered.

You're too young to realize this, and I'm only starting to see this too. But there has been something interesting happening during this pandemic. In communities all across the world, including our own, I am seeing courage, compassion, leadership, and kindness to a degree I've never seen it before. People of all ages are making sacrifices. People in my age group, who are sarcastically characterized as being self-absorbed and indulgent, are leading with integrity and making sacrifices, too.

Through all the darkness and malaise of this pandemic I see rays of light. I see the beginnings of a change in mindset. What I pray for and hope for is that this pandemic shines a light on our culture and reminds us that we are capable of making sacrifices to solve difficult, existential problems. That we are capable of rising above adversity and petty differences.

And most of all, I see hope that in the next decades my contemporaries and I will choose to meet difficult, global challenges with courage and confidence instead of running from them.

For us, Myles, you were a prayer answered. And amidst all this struggle, your arrival here reminds me that the sun is, and always was, coming.

A high five and bat signal to my working dad brethren

I was furloughed from my job on Monday, March 30.

As a result my wife upped her hours and I luckily fell into some part-time contract work. In normal circumstances this would be a monumental life change. But alas, in these times it’s only a contextual footnote.

We hit day 100 of staying at home with the kids, all day, this past Tuesday. It has been an awakening, particularly in how I think about being a father. The highlights of this awakening are probably not terribly different for you, if you’re also a young father.

First and foremost, it’s really damn hard to be lead parent, especially because we’re both working. I realized during this quarantine exactly how my wife puts our family on her back and carries us, day after day. It’s nothing short of astounding, and that’s not even emphasizing the economic value of that unpaid care-giving work.

But every day, I find myself thinking of this bizarre situation as a blessing. I get to be a stay-at-home dad. This was the paternity leave I never had the chance to have.

Being a working dad is frustratingly hard, and most days someone in our house has a meltdown, despite my best efforts. But being a full-time dad is the best “job” ever, most of the time. It has far exceeded my already high expectations. I would have never been able to understand what I was losing had this pandemic never happened. To boot, consistently getting the really hard reps of solo-parenting has made me a much better father. It’s embarrassing how clueless I was three months ago. What a blessing this has been.

It’s remarkable that so many dads are experiencing this role-reversal at the exact same time. I think it’s an inflection point because a curious thing seems to be happening culturally.

If you’re a parent to young children, I wonder if you’ve noticed this too: being a “working dad” feels a lot more normal. It’s like being a “working mom” was a thing before and being a working dad is finally a thing now too. By that I mean working dads seem to have become a real constituency with a common set of experiences, preferences, and at least some awareness of its existence as a group.

Before the pandemic that mold we were forced into as working dads - and men generally, to some degree - was much more rigid. To be a working dad was to grind at work, not talk about your kids much unless asked or unless you were complaining a bit. You talked about sports, business, alcohol, or politics with your buddies. You help out your partner but you’re still the primary breadwinner and they’re the primary caregiver, and those roles have specific expectations. And maybe you have one relatively masculine and socially expected hobby like working out, brewing beer, playing fantasy football, trying new restaurants, woodworking, a side hustle, or something like that.

And I could go on describing this persona, and I admit that I’m painting in broad strokes - but if you’re a parent of young children you hopefully intrinsically understand the motif I’m outlining. And candidly, the mold of what I feel like I am supposed to be as a young father is frustrating on a good day and sometimes becomes suffocating.

But something feels different now.

Most nice days over the past three months the boys (Bo, Myles, and our pup Riley) and I would go for a walk in our neighborhood before lunch time. Along the way we met a lot of neighbors. That was fun and expected.

I did not expect to meet a lot of other young fathers who were walking with their kids just like I was. Some were also furloughed, and everyone I met actually talked about it openly. Others were still working but were also splitting parenting duties with their partners. I even saw one of my neighbors outside this past week with his baby daughter on his lap, taking a conference call.

And, these neighborhood dads and I, we actually had conversations about what we’re thinking and feeling about as fathers right now, even if briefly. And these conversations with my neighbors about fatherhood had the same kind of easy, open feel as the conversations I hear my wife having with other moms. These were conversations that rebelled against the rigid, masculine, mold I’ve felt restrained by.

This is the first time I ever felt a culture of working dad-hood growing into my day-to-day life. Prior to this pandemic, I only ever talked openly about being a working dad quietly and with my closest friends. Now it’s something that feels more acceptable, probably because this pandemic has given young fathers a shared and significant life experience.

And now that many of us working dads are starting to go back to work and more “normal” activity is happening, I see this change more clearly. And I think it’s for the better. But my call to you, my working dad brethren, is that we cannot put up with some of this BS around being a parent any longer. We have to be done with this foolishness.

When we go back to work, we can’t put up with:

• Feeling awkward about taking our kids to the doctor or cutting out of work early to care for our families

• Hiding the stresses of being a working dad

• Ridiculous policies that don’t provide men (or women) enough paid leave after birth or adoption

• Poorly managed teams that have meetings that always run over or go back to back. Our time is too valuable to waste on nonsense

• Workforces that don’t have gender diversity, and therefore skew toward a culture of being an old-school boys club

• Working all the time and being expected to work during family and leisure time

• Work cultures that emphasize useless face time at an office. I’m not even convinced that most companies are managed well enough to see a measurable difference between co-located teams and remote teams

There’s so much more we shouldn’t put up with; these are only a handful. Especially now that we understand being working fathers so much more intimately than we did three months ago, we should hold ourselves and our companies to a higher standard.

And the best part is, refusing to tolerate this foolishness is not just the right thing to do or a timely topic, I think it’s very possible that if we hold ourselves and our teams to a higher standard it’ll lead to higher profits, happier customers, and thriving teams.

Working moms have been pushing this agenda for some time, and I think it’s time for us join them in a big way.

Impactful Contribution

This image of ikigai has been floating around the internet in various forms for a while.

Source: https://www.performanceexcellencenetwork.org/pensights/finding-lifes-meaning-quest-discover-ikigai-pen-august-2017/

And even though I’m generally skeptical of advice that emphasizes “doing what you love”, I don’t see any reason to criticize the concept the diagram argues for. Those four questions seem sensible enough to me when thinking broadly about the question of “what do I want to do with my life?”

Lately though, in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder, as protests continue throughout our country, I’ve heard a lot of people ask - “what can I do?”

In this case, the question of “what can I do?” is not a decision where the framework of ikigai easily applies. When it comes to racial equity, if we’re asking the question of what can I do, we’re already committed to issue area and we aren’t expecting to be paid for it.

And this question is common. I have often asked myself, something like what do I want to do to contribute to others when I’m not at work? Nobody has unlimited leisure time, but most of us have some amount of time we want to use to serve others, after we complete our work and home responsibilities. We’re already committed to doing something for others, we just don’t know what to do.

So the question becomes: when I’ve already committed to making an impactful contribution, what will I do?

Here’s how i’ve been thinking about approaching that question lately:

There are three key questions to answer and find the intersection of:

• Do I have enough trust to make an impactful contribution?

  • if so, where?

  • If not, how can I build it?

• Do I have something valuable to contribute?

  • If so, what is it?

  • If not, what can I get better at that is helpful to others?

  • I I don’t know what’s helpful, how do I listen and learn?

• Do I care enough (about anyone else) to make a sacrifice?

  • If so, who is it that I care so deeply about serving?

  • If not, how do I learn to love others enough to serve them?

Our decision calculus changes when we not trying to determine what to based on whether it will make us feel good. When we’re looking to serve others, it’s not as important to find something we are passionate about doing or finding something which helps us seem important and generous to our peers. What becomes most important is putting ourselves in a position to make an impactful contribution.

Because when we’ve already committed to making an impactful contribution, making that contribution is it’s own reward. We don’t depend as much on recognition to stay motivated. As long as we’re treated with respect, we’re probably just grateful for the opportunity to serve.

Imagining a world with less shouting

Robyn forwarded me a three-day “no-shout challenge” that she heard about through a speaker at conference she attended. I made it two and a half days, and every hour was hard. I didn’t realize how much I shouted at my son until I tried to stop.

The challenge helped me to understand why I shouted and think of an alternative pattern of behavior.

Upon reflection, I realized that I shout because my most foundational belief about parenting is that what I owe my sons - above all else - is to help them become good people. So when my son deliberately screams to wake up his big brother, or bites me, or doesn’t follow what I believe to be a high-standard of conduct, that moves me from zero to ten in a second. That’s my baggage, not his.

I decided that my replacement behavior would be to say, “neither of us are perfect, but we are going to figure this out” when my temper was rising, instead of shouting.

But the point here is not that I am cured of shouting (I’m not even close). The point is to share what happened after I started shouting less.

We have been struggling a lot as a family during this pandemic. In many ways, this period of our lives has been a blessing, but it has been a trying time. Our elder son, now, is very aware of the virus and he misses our family, his friends, and his teachers at school. He’s confused about why he has to give far-away hugs and why he can do certain things but not others.

He’s also a toddler, so we have had power struggles over really small things as is the case with most families.

But when Robyn and I started this challenge and began shouting less, something changed for the better in our house. In a word, everything deescalated.

We still all have tantrums, but they are less intense. We still have power struggles, but we’re able to take a breath more quickly that before. Bo says “excuse me” to get our attention more, instead of screaming indiscriminately. Sometimes, instead of shouting we find a way to talk about his sadness and confusion, even though he barely has grasp of the words and concepts needed to express what he’s feeling.

Again, there is still shouting in our house, and I’m not proud of how I act on many days. But even just shouting less has created more space to listen, love, and resolve the very real problems we have. We have not reached the promised-land of a fully peaceful house, but we are on a different trajectory than we were.

While this was all happening, Robyn and I have been observing, listening, and talking intensely every night about the problems of race in our country. It its something that we are deeply stirred by, personally and professionally.

Because we saw a reduction in shouting bring about real and almost immediate change in our own household, I can’t help but wonder what might happen if we shouted less when trying to resolve community issues.

Say if we all just decided we would stop shouting for a week or a month, what would happen? In my wildest dreams, I wonder if that could be the very humble beginning of a transformation that eventually got us to a moment where we could live in a community where shouting was no longer needed.

The skeptic in me feels that this type of scaling is difficult and perhaps impossible. After all, Robyn happened to attend a conference, where she heard a speaker, who shared a no-shout challenge, and we happened to try it out. Getting to the point of trying to intentionally shout less resulted from a lucky mix of circumstance, humbling work, and serendipity.

In our household - whether it is us as parents or our children - someone had to take the first step. And luckily, it is clear that the first step to a no-shout home was our responsibility as parents.

But with complex disagreements that are compounded by hundreds of years of pain and violence - like race, poverty, and others - it’s less clear whose responsibility it is to take the first step. Moreover, that first step of not shouting takes incredible courage, humility, and grace.

I pray that I can summon that courage, humility, and grace whenever I need to take that first step. Being ready to take that first step is something worth preparing for, even if my number never is called to lead in that way. It is for all of us.

Racism, Reform, and the Second Commandment

In these very dark times, I am struggling to make sense of what is happening in the aftermath of George Floyd’s unfathomably cruel murder by a Minneapolis Police Officer. For a lot of reasons.

We live in a predominately black city. I have worked as a Manger in our Police Department for the better part of the last five years, so I’ve seen law enforcement from the inside. I am, technically speaking, a person of color with mixed-race children. We live in a mixed-race neighborhood.

And of course, there’s the 400+ years of institutionalized racism in the United States that I have begun to understand (at least a little) by reading about it and hearing first-hand accounts from friends who have felt the harms of it personally.

And as I’ve stewed with this, I keep asking myself - what are we hoping happens here? What do we want our communities to be like on the other end of this?

Because something is palpably different this time. George Floyd’s murder feels like it will be the injustice that (finally) sparks a transformation.

What I keep coming back to in contemplation, reflection, and prayer is the second greatest commandment - “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy self.”

What I hope for is to live in a place where I can have good neighbors and be a good neighbor. The second greatest commandment is the most elegant representation of what I hope for in communities that I have ever found.

I interpret this commandment as a call to love. We must give others love and respect, even our adversaries. If loving our neighbor requires us to do the deep work of growing out of the fear, disrespect, and hate in our hearts then we must do it. Rather, we are commanded by God to do it.

But in the world we live in today, we can avoid the deep work of personal transformation if we choose to. If we don’t love our neighbors, we can just move somewhere with neighbors we already like. More insidiously, we can also put up barriers so that the people we fear, disrespect, or hate, can’t live in our neighborhood even if they wanted to.

This seems exactly to be what institutionalized racism was and is intended to do. I don’t have to learn to love someone if I keep them out of my neighborhood through, redlining, allowing crummy schools elsewhere, practicing hiring discrimination, racial covenants, brutal policing, and on and on.

If we choose neighbors we already love as ourselves, we’re off the hook for removing the hate from our hearts and replacing it with love for them.

In this, I am complicit. Part of why we live in a city is because I didn’t want to raise mixed-race children in a white, affluent suburb. I didn’t want to deal with it, straight up.

I say this even though I acknowledge that places like where I grew up are probably much more welcoming than they were 15 years ago. Similarly, there are times that I’ve chosen to ignore, block, and unfollow people who I fear, disrespect, or disagree with. I have been an accomplice creating my own bubble to live in.

Adhereing to the idea presented in the second greatest commandment is really quite hard.

The problem is, I and any others who want to live in a truly cohesive, peaceful community probably don’t have a choice but to do the deep work that the second greatest commandment asks of us.

My intuition is that even if we dismantled institutionalized racism completely, that wouldn’t necessarily lead to love thy neighbor communities. They’d be more fair and just, perhaps, but maybe not loving.

And, I’m not even convinced we can completely dismantle racist institutions without more and more people individually choosing to do the deep work of replacing the fear, disrespect, and hate in their hearts with love.

Which leaves me in such a quandary - I truly do believe there are pervasively racist institutions in our society, still. And those institutions need to be reformed - specifically to alleviate the particularly brutal circumstances Black Americans have to live with.

But at the same time, I know I am a hypocrite by saying all this because I too have to do the deep work of personal transformation.

I did the Hate Vaccine exercise last week and realized how fearful and disrespectful I can be toward people from rural and suburban communities because of my race, job, and where I went to college. When I really took a moment to reflect, what I saw in myself was uglier than I thought it would be.

In community policing circles a common adage is that “we can’t arrest our way out of [high crime rates].” I have been wondering if something similar could be said for where we are today - can we reform our way out of racism?

Maybe we can. I honestly don’t have the data to share any firm conclusion. But my lived experience says no: the only way out of this - if we want to live in a love thy neighbor society - is a mix of transforming institutions and transforming all our own hearts.

Thank you to my friend Nick for pointing out the difference between the second commandment and second greatest commandment. It is updated now..

The Hate Vaccine - A Reflection Exercise

I subscribe to Michael Jackson’s theory of progress: “if you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change.”

If I want hatred, disrespect, and fear to stop spreading, that means I must not spread it myself.

This exercise is how I am trying to vaccinate myself so I don’t continue to be a carrier of hate, disrespect, and fear. I’m presenting it mostly without comment, but I will say this. When I worked this exercise last night, I realized there’s a lot I can do to be less hateful, disrespectful, and fearful.

INSTRUCTIONS: Start by determining the people / groups that have wronged you or you are expected to exchange hate, disrespect, or fear with. Then fill in the remaining boxes.

I’m working on a project related to practicing reflection, which you can learn more about at the link.

"You should PRAY."

At the end of the pandemic I think we’ll each have two numbers that we each identify with. I’m a one and seventy-three. I know one person who died (thank God it’s not higher) and day 73 is about the time I started cracking.

After being furloughed, intense days with two children under three, snow and heat, intense remote work back with the Police Department (with said children at home), and social isolation - all these things were hard, but they didn’t bother me that much. What finally got me were the faraway hugs.

Our older son, Bo, has been talking about going to his grandparents’ house “after the virus is gone” for weeks. We finally saw my mom a few days ago and Robyn’s parents and brother tonight. And Bo knew that he had to maintain a safe distance, but that it was okay to give “faraway hugs” where he squeezes his arms across his chest, leaning forward and smiling.

Seeing Bo have to give his grandparents hugs from a distance snapped something in me. After 10 weeks of unprecedented struggle, that’s what broke me down.

—

The boys (Bo, Myles, Riley) and I went on a long walk today. And I turned to Bo and told me that I didn’t know what to do - about my job, about my stress, about all this.

“What should I do, bud?”, I said sincerely, urgently.

I didn’t hear what he said the first time. And then he clarified, with emphasis, from his stroller, clutching his water bottle:

“You should PRAY, papa.”

And that’s when I started to feel like I was coming back together again.

Finally made it to the moon

I went to the moon recently and safely returned.

Here is a picture of a moon crater we saw:

We meaning my older son Bo (Myles was asleep at the space station).

I have dreamed, and by that I mean sincerely dreamed, of going to space ever since I can remember. I still do. Space travel is a not entirely secret obsession of mine.

But if the only spacecraft I ever traverse the heavens in is the one in our attic, that would be better than my 6-year old self, dreaming of the moon, ever imagined.

Part of me doesn't want this to end so fast

Part of me doesn’t want this to end so fast.

Okay, now that I’ve said that I can say how ridiculous that is, and selfish.

I want people to stop needing ventilators. I want first responders to be able to sleep in their own beds and eat dinners with their families. I want doctors and nurses to come home. I want grocery store workers and every other essential worker to not have to wear masks and fear for their lives.

I want us to stop losing or almost losing friends, family, and neighbors. I want to stop washing bananas. I want everyone to have their jobs back. I really do.

It makes me feel so guilty to say this, but this might be the happiest time of my life. Despite being in isolation. Despite being furloughed from my job and picking up part-time work. Despite slashing our family’s budgets. Despite not seeing our family and friends for weeks. Despite Robyn and I trying to work remotely with two little boys at home. Despite this all being such a cluster and a nightmare. It’s still happy.

When will I ever get so much time with Robyn and our boys? When will things be so slow and quiet, ever again? When again will the air ever be so clean? When will instagram and facebook ever have less people flaunting their wealth and status? When will Riley ever get so many walks in the neighborhood? When will I ever talk to my college and high school friends so regularly? When will Bo be 2 again, and when will Myles be a newborn again, and I actually get to be here for it?

I know that all things considered, this month has been very easy for us, relative to what other people are going through. I sure get that we’re lucky that we’re all healthy (so far) and we can ride this out at home.

But even though I feel guilty saying this, part of me doesn’t want this to end so fast. And again, I can’t believe i’m saying this, but outside the very real and significant strain, stress, and sacrifice of this global, deadly pandemic, this has been a happy time for us.

I do want this pandemic to end. But I hope we can keep some of the happy parts when this is over.

Picking ourselves up is only the first step

Every work day, I begin with a short reflection, starting with this question: “What did yesterday say about my character?”

A few days ago, this is how I answered the question:

“You are getting off the mat. But the important part is not about you getting up, that’s not the heroic act that matters. What matters is what you do for others now that you’ve gotten up.”

It’s uncomfortable how prescient that was a few days ago, because I was furloughed (hopefully temporarily) from my job today. Now, I really get to test whether I can practice what I preach.

When we’re facedown on the mat, our first decision is whether or not we will rise again. But getting up is not enough.

The second decision is what truly reveals our character: what will we do for others one we have gotten up?

What did yesterday say about [blank]?

I started with just gratitude journaling to start my day, and have since added a bunch of “content blocks”, if you will, to my morning reflection. It’s the first thing I do when I open my computer at work. (I send an e-mail to myself that automatically delivers at 7:30am the next morning).

This is the latest question I added to my morning reflection. It’s now the first thing on the page.

“What did yesterday say about your character?”

There are two parts to this question.

First, there’s the prompt of “What did yesterday say about _______?”. What’s effective about this prompt is that it forces me to take stock of the entire previous day. And it’s pointed so that it’s fairly difficult to lie to myself, because I have to come up with specific examples from the previous day.

This is a little goofy, but in my head, I imagine “Yesterday” speaking to me and evaluating me like a benevolent, credible, and demanding coach, and I write my response in Yesterday’s voice. Yesterday is like my wise elder great uncle - I know he loves me, but objective enough to keep me on the hook for my actions.

The second part of the prompt is the “your character” part. This is user-specific.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what my highest priority in my life is. For me, it’s being a good man. In other words, it’s my character.

Character comes before being a husband, father, citizen, or professional. My character is my standard, just as my word is my bond. As a result, I fill in the blank of this prompt with “ your character”.

The way I ask myself this question has an imbedded assumption about how I view right and wrong. By asking myself about character, it reinforces the belief that what we matters most about is not what we accomplish but how we conduct ourselves when we do it. That may not be how you see the world, but it’s a choice worth being intentional about.

So, if you’re planning on using this prompt, take some time to think about what your “blank” is. Maybe it’s being faith-driven. Maybe it’s being a parent or partner. Maybe it’s having a second-to-none work ethic. Maybe it’s related to serving others.

The key is to fill in the blank with the aspiration that is your highest and truest aspiration.

It has been a great way to start my day. For me it all comes down to character, so a reflection on character is where my day begins.

4-Part Daily Gratitude

Starting a gratitude changed the course of my life. I don’t even think that’s an overstatement.

In my times of highest anxiety, thinking about gratitude helped me to think about and even feel my feelings. I suppose it may vary from person to person, but I am not able to function normally when I’m completely gripped by high-intensity emotions. Being emotionally stable is a necessary condition for living out my best intentions.

Writing down gratitudes helps me stay centered, even, and calm. There are many ways to do this. Here is how I approach it, which I took from a meditation class on Glo.

I write down four sentences as part of my morning routine. I happen to do this as part of my first order of business before I start my work day.

I recommend keeping your gratitude journal in the morning, but doing this at any time daily is great. Here are the four parts to my daily gratitude journaling:

• Who is someone I am grateful for?

• What is something I am grateful for?

• What am I grateful for in the coming day?

• What is a problem I am grateful for?

If I’m feeling angry, I might add, “Who do I forgive?”. When in despair, I might add, “What do I pray for?”.

There’s no 100% right way to do a gratitude journal, as long as you write out what you are grateful for. It’s hard at first, but definitely worth going deep on, every day.

Is it worth it?

Here are some examples that contrast ends and means:

Is it worth it to shame and ridicule your kids if they end up getting into a top 5 college?

Is it noble to trash that company on the internet on your way out, if they trashed you while you worked there?

Is it worth it to pocket a bank error in your favor even if you catch it? What if your kids need new sports equipment?

Is a CEO who harasses his reports off the hook if they beat earnings targets consistently?

What if it’s a politician that you know will get people like you a big tax cut?

Is it worth it to work over Christmas and neglect your family if it guarantees that next promotion?

Is it okay to ignore your lonely but annoying neighbor because you really need to unload your groceries?

Is it okay to stir the pot to get more clicks?

Is it passable to make fun of the “weird” person on the team to prevent the others from turning on you?

It is on us to determine whether the ends justify the means.

And to be sure, a lot of great things can be achieved without resorting to immoral or amoral behavior. In fact, most things probably can, though it might take longer and be more difficult.

I can’t compel you or anyone else to take a position on this questions of ends vs. means.

But I do leave you with this radical notion: the ends might not ever justify the means.

Simple over SMART

I like New Years Resolutions, But for most of my life I wasn’t very good at achieving them.

This year, for the first time ever, I remembered what my resolution even was (get a new job) at the end of the year and I actually achieved it.

Why?

1. It was simple enough to actually remember. There was also only one.

2. It was specific. I could actually know when the goal was achieved. When my paycheck had another company name on it, I was done. Boom.

3. It was really important. It took a long time to convince myself, but I realized that I needed to make a change.

4. It was urgent. Even though it took a long time, I felt compelled to work on it every day and week.

SSIU is not a catchy acronym like SMART. But in my personal experience SMART goals are so complicated to write well, I often don’t remember them after a week.

In fact, an acronym might even be unnecessary in the first place. If a goal is simple, the specificity, the importance, and urgency take care of themselves.

Simple is not only enough, simple might be better than smart.

—

Friends,

If you follow my work you might be interested to know my resolution this year: publishing this book. It’s drafted, but it still needs to be transcribed, edited, laid out, and shared.

If you have advice or encouragement on how to do this, I would love to talk with you.

Why we don’t reflect

I was having drinks with family and some family friends over the Thanksgiving holiday.

My brother-in-law brought one of his tightest buddies who has become a friend of mine over the years. We were talking about some of the philosophy classes he has been taking at University.

He had a very terrific insight into why we as people don’t reflect, as often as we probably should.

I’m paraphrasing, but his thought was this: if we look in the mirror, we don’t think we’ll like what we will see.

We need to want to look in the mirror. If we can cultivate that desire in our own hearts, reflection becomes a technical exercise. It is not always a trivial task, but if there is a will, the way becomes clear very quickly - at least in my experience.

Really smart.

I love to reflect, and it is a tremendously important part of my life. What I have to figure out now is how to share that desire to reflect so it gives others more of a willingness to try.

Honesty and the tragedy of the commons

Living in a community where people consistently tell the truth is much better than living amongst liars. Living amongst liars is horrific.

Can you imagine if nobody around you ever kept their word? You could never feel trust with anyone, and every interaction you had would need a contract. You would probably only talk with people who were like you, because you might believe they were marginally more likely not to screw you. The world would be tribal.

In the abstract truth and trust are a shared resource, and the tragedy of the commons generally seems to apply. It’s very easy for one person in the community to tell a small lie that advantages them. And once one person gets away with lying, it’s easy for everyone to start cheating on their commitment to the truth.

Our kids, however, don’t understand this. It takes time to see how behaviors form norms and norms form culture. The choice of truth or lies are a butterfly effect that takes time to unravel.

But if I don’t teach our sons to tell the truth and model it from a young age, they’ll have terrible habits once they understand truth and trust enough to actively choose it. If I don’t teach them truth now, it’ll be harder then to teach themselves later. Much harder.

These ideas about trust are abstract and complex. We aren’t born applying economics concepts to truth and lies. These are things we learn from lived experiences, and come to get a feel for over the course of decades.

But for our sons, that’s too late.

This creates a tension. I have to hold them to the standard of telling the truth now, even though I can’t fully explain why. I have to, therefore, create a norm in our household that we tell the truth, which means I must always tell the truth.

This act, however, purifies three times. It helps our sons learn to be better men, it helps me practice being a better man, and it is a gift to our community which now has three fewer liars.

This whole enterprise rests on the assumption, however, that I want to be a good man. And that our sons do too.

It would be tremendously transformative if we all taught our kids to tell the truth. When we don’t, it leads to tragedy instead.