As of May 1st, 2017, my blog is now located on my website:
http://www.tritodefi.com/blog/
I hope you can join me there :-)
Monday, May 1, 2017
Sunday, February 26, 2017
A Lesson in Resilience
My beautiful
spotted and four legged dalmatian friend, Chester, is 12 years old. Not
long after his birthday he started to struggle staying upright. His hind
legs just didn't seem to work properly anymore. He would wobble and
stumble, and sometimes fall. Two weekends ago, it got worse. He started falling over more; his back end collapsing under him as he walked. He could no longer climb up on to the sofa and his feet would drag along behind him. A few vet visits later, including a consult with a canine neurologist, he was diagnosed with intervertebral disc disease. Basically, he has a number of herniated discs, one of which is causing him some pain and weakness in his hind legs. Surgery to fix the problem is full of risk, and would be hard on his body. Bed rest has therefore been prescribed. Our full of beans dog must stay inactive for at least 4 weeks so that the discs can heal.
Despite the stress of this situation, I am constantly amazed at Chester's tenacity and resilience. He has not lost his sparkle. He is as happy, go lucky as he has ever been. His light still shines extraordinarily brightly. Prior to his mandated bed rest, Chester bounced around the house despite the fact his body didn't really allow him to do so. He tried to get up on the sofa, even though he didn't have the strength. He will not be deterred. He falls over, but gets right back up again. He wobbles, but keeps moving forward. He has just adapted, or maybe just accepted, that his mobility is what it is, and it isn't going to stop him from being a dog. His exuberance is unbounded and it's humbling to see.
His energy and love for life doesn't allow him to accept limits. This is, of course, good and bad, especially when inactivity is critical for his healing. His worldview is not shaped by his new limits and he is just refusing to be different. He has every reason to be sad, or frustrated about this sudden change in mobility, but he just isn't. We have much to learn from our black and white spotted tail wagger.
Around the same time as Chester's illness, I developed another running related injury - a possible stress fracture in the lateral malleolus. I am currently in a boot and there is no running for me. I like to think, however inconvenient the timing, it is a sympathetic injury experienced in solidarity with my best pal. However, I have responded differently to it than Chester has to his change in ability. My issue is temporary, Chester's may not be. And yet, he continues unfazed. I, on the other hand, feel down that I can't run and had to miss a race.
I want to be like Chester; I want to adapt and continue onwards. I have a new set of circumstances, and that is just the way it is until it isn't anymore. So be it. I think we all have much to learn from our canine friends, and this is probably not new information for the dog lovers out there. Resilience for, and management of, change can be taken in stride if we allow ourselves to respond that way. As runners and triathletes, we can get so hung up on our goals that any impediment or barrier we face can derail our spirit completely. Instead, we should embrace the new circumstance and develop a solution that keeps us moving forward. There is a lesson for me in Chester's response to his new circumstance, and I am trying hard to internalize it. I think we would all be better if we could channel some of Chester's energy right now; keep moving forward and fighting, in spite of the challenges presented.
Despite the stress of this situation, I am constantly amazed at Chester's tenacity and resilience. He has not lost his sparkle. He is as happy, go lucky as he has ever been. His light still shines extraordinarily brightly. Prior to his mandated bed rest, Chester bounced around the house despite the fact his body didn't really allow him to do so. He tried to get up on the sofa, even though he didn't have the strength. He will not be deterred. He falls over, but gets right back up again. He wobbles, but keeps moving forward. He has just adapted, or maybe just accepted, that his mobility is what it is, and it isn't going to stop him from being a dog. His exuberance is unbounded and it's humbling to see.
His energy and love for life doesn't allow him to accept limits. This is, of course, good and bad, especially when inactivity is critical for his healing. His worldview is not shaped by his new limits and he is just refusing to be different. He has every reason to be sad, or frustrated about this sudden change in mobility, but he just isn't. We have much to learn from our black and white spotted tail wagger.
Around the same time as Chester's illness, I developed another running related injury - a possible stress fracture in the lateral malleolus. I am currently in a boot and there is no running for me. I like to think, however inconvenient the timing, it is a sympathetic injury experienced in solidarity with my best pal. However, I have responded differently to it than Chester has to his change in ability. My issue is temporary, Chester's may not be. And yet, he continues unfazed. I, on the other hand, feel down that I can't run and had to miss a race.
I want to be like Chester; I want to adapt and continue onwards. I have a new set of circumstances, and that is just the way it is until it isn't anymore. So be it. I think we all have much to learn from our canine friends, and this is probably not new information for the dog lovers out there. Resilience for, and management of, change can be taken in stride if we allow ourselves to respond that way. As runners and triathletes, we can get so hung up on our goals that any impediment or barrier we face can derail our spirit completely. Instead, we should embrace the new circumstance and develop a solution that keeps us moving forward. There is a lesson for me in Chester's response to his new circumstance, and I am trying hard to internalize it. I think we would all be better if we could channel some of Chester's energy right now; keep moving forward and fighting, in spite of the challenges presented.
Chester investigating my new ankle brace/boot
Friday, February 17, 2017
Make Another Choice
A recent podcast about the five senses, introduced me to Isaac Lidsky, who at age 25, completely lost his vision. He was interviewed on the podcast and snippets of his Ted Talk were interspersed throughout the interview (link below). At the time of losing his vision completely, he recalls that he felt his life was over. He would never be able to do the things he wanted to do. Life as he knew it, was forever changed, and not for the better. Years later, with a law degree, law practice, and countless other achievements, he talks about how resolute he was in the belief that nothing good could arise out of his blindness. And how very wrong he was.
"To me, it's more about choosing what reality you want to live for yourself. So this really was the profound insight that really made losing my sight a great blessing in my life. I felt I was living a race against the clock, a race against time, a race against blindness until I decided to really take control of my own reality."
What I found most profound or enlightening about his insight was this:
For Lidsky, going blind gave him vision, as he understands it. It allowed him to live with his eyes wide open in ways he had not been able to do when he had his sight. He shared his learning:
What Lidsky outlined about fear and choice is also relevant right now, today, in our current social, political, and cultural climate. Powerfully relevant. Fear of the "other" and its explicit reification in policy is at a peak. This fear is largely directed at non-white Americans, immigrants, and refugees. In particular, the fear (white) people have of individuals from Muslim countries, and Muslim Americans is taking over. Many, many people are choosing to believe that all Muslim people are a threat to their safety. They are not choosing to see through those fears to a reality that doesn't support this claim. They are invested in the bogeyman story in this context because it's easier to give in to a fear, than it is to make a different choice, as Lidsky suggests we do. This hyper-exaggeration of a perceived threat and the resultant narrative of fear, is leading to heinous and oppressive initiatives that many argue are indisputably unconstitutional.
We each have choices. Our choices are different and complicated, and nuanced based on our identities and how we move through the world. And we still have choices about how we want to treat other people and be remembered. Choices about how and what we communicate or how we embrace challenge and change or eschew it. Lidsky ended his Ted Talk by quoting/paraphrasing Helen Keller: "the only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." I think right now, many of us who can see, lack vision because we are blanketed in our fears of something we don't truly understand: "terrain uncharted and undefined." Embrace difference, make different choices, and open yourself up to alternate possibilities.
Ted Radio Hour, "The Five Senses" (Jan 19, 2017). Retrieved from http://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=510624029
"To me, it's more about choosing what reality you want to live for yourself. So this really was the profound insight that really made losing my sight a great blessing in my life. I felt I was living a race against the clock, a race against time, a race against blindness until I decided to really take control of my own reality."
What I found most profound or enlightening about his insight was this:
"whenever I felt afraid, I'd ask myself two questions - what precisely is my problem, and what precisely can I do about it? You know, I knew blindness was going to ruin my life [at 25], but that was a reality that I was choosing, that my mind had created for me, and I was choosing to believe. And I decided to make another choice."He decided to make another choice. Rather than following the pathway that places blindness as a deficiency, as something that is wrong or less than in comparison to having sight, he turned away from that narrative and chose something else. He identified his problem, and developed a solution. Sometimes, fear of the unknown controls us. We invent, speculate, and/or presume a variety of horrors will befall us when let fear reign. In our minds, fear of X is powerful and we give it credence over any other possible reality or outcome. We miss the less gloomy side of the coin: that the event, behavior, situation, or activity that we fear may actually bring us new insight, experience, and knowledge.
For Lidsky, going blind gave him vision, as he understands it. It allowed him to live with his eyes wide open in ways he had not been able to do when he had his sight. He shared his learning:
"See beyond your fears, they are your excuses, rationalizations, shortcuts, justifications, your surrender. Choose to see through them, choose to let them go. You are the creator of your reality. With that empowerment comes complete responsibility. I chose to step out of fear's tunnel into terrain uncharted and undefined."His words and sentiments resonate with me personally as I continue on my journey of starting my own business, believing I can be a research and evaluation project lead, or being a competitive triathlete. The what ifs, fear of failure, and associated worry sometimes pushing me closer to giving up than I would like to admit.
What Lidsky outlined about fear and choice is also relevant right now, today, in our current social, political, and cultural climate. Powerfully relevant. Fear of the "other" and its explicit reification in policy is at a peak. This fear is largely directed at non-white Americans, immigrants, and refugees. In particular, the fear (white) people have of individuals from Muslim countries, and Muslim Americans is taking over. Many, many people are choosing to believe that all Muslim people are a threat to their safety. They are not choosing to see through those fears to a reality that doesn't support this claim. They are invested in the bogeyman story in this context because it's easier to give in to a fear, than it is to make a different choice, as Lidsky suggests we do. This hyper-exaggeration of a perceived threat and the resultant narrative of fear, is leading to heinous and oppressive initiatives that many argue are indisputably unconstitutional.
We each have choices. Our choices are different and complicated, and nuanced based on our identities and how we move through the world. And we still have choices about how we want to treat other people and be remembered. Choices about how and what we communicate or how we embrace challenge and change or eschew it. Lidsky ended his Ted Talk by quoting/paraphrasing Helen Keller: "the only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." I think right now, many of us who can see, lack vision because we are blanketed in our fears of something we don't truly understand: "terrain uncharted and undefined." Embrace difference, make different choices, and open yourself up to alternate possibilities.
Ted Radio Hour, "The Five Senses" (Jan 19, 2017). Retrieved from http://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=510624029
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Find your inner tortoise and be happy
For my run today, I decided to listen to a Ted Radio Hour podcast on Happiness. We are close to the start of a new year, like so many of you, I pretty much feel this way about 2016:
via GIPHY
and it was a blue bird day; 50 degrees in late December. The weather helped lift my mood. Perfect running weather.
As with all things podcast, I am usually hearing insightful comments, quotes, or thought provoking questions every few minutes. When running, these sources of inspiration and intellectual engagement help pass the time, and send my mind into overdrive. Where my mind goes, my legs follow and sure enough, I find my Zone 2 run is hovering more around Zone 4. I have so many thoughts that I wish I could write them down while running. This may prove complicated and perhaps somewhere in that wish is a new generation of gadgets for creative runners.
Back to the Happiness podcast. Among the many synapses firing from this hour of insight, two things struck me, well three actually. The first is that we move too fast. Our culture promotes doing more with less time, and thus, happiness passes us by because we are too preoccupied with doing rather than being. Second, we have too much stuff. We don't live simply enough and over the course of our lives, accrue a great deal of useless things. None of this stuff contributes to our happiness. The happiness we yield from it, is often momentary or is because the thing is associated with a happy memory. It is not the thing itself that makes us happy. Third, a quote: "it is not happiness that makes us grateful, it's gratefulness that makes us happy" (Brother David Steidl-Rast). I want to talk briefly about gratefulness and happiness and then about our fixation on speed because I see them as connected. I will save "stuff" for another post because there is much to say on that topic.
Being grateful, according to Steidl-Rast whose Ted Talk was featured in this podcast, is connected to recognizing that every moment we experience is a gift and an opportunity. We have no idea how many more moments will be given to us, how many more opportunities, so we should be grateful for every one. With that gratefulness comes happiness. Steidl-Rast is not saying we should be grateful for everything, because I am not grateful for violence, hate, war and bigotry. What he is saying is that we should avail ourselves of every opportunity given to us, and in so doing, we find happiness. Moments, he argues, are the most valuable things we can be given.
Now to our preoccupation with speed. I am currently contemplating my desire to continue chasing the elusive Boston Marathon qualification time by running yet another marathon in 2017. I had thought that my most recent marathon would be the finale in this story. If I didn't make the cut off, I would release myself from the self-inflicted goal of seeking a qualification time. However, that is not how the post-marathon thinking has played out for me. Which, in hindsight, I should have easily predicted. Runners do have, after all, pretty bad short term memories.
Qualifying for Boston is about getting faster, and with getting faster, comes work. Lots of miles, lots of speed work, and lots of time spent running. The drive to get faster is relentless. And, I am not sure how healthy it is. The qualification bar for women is far easier than it is for men, and yet, for many of us, not reaching it feels like a badge of shame. It reminds me of fairground rides I couldn't go on when I was a kid because I wasn't tall enough. Failing to reach my BQ time evokes the same feelings of inadequacy as standing against the makeshift ruler to determine whether my height met their safety standard. At the fairground ride, I would stand on my tip toes, hoping those extra centimeters would make a difference. This time, it's minutes and seconds and not feet and inches that determine my entry into the club. It is a point of pride for many, many runners to qualify for Boston, and they wear their Boston jackets and shirts like it's their nation's flag. I don't begrudge them that, and yet, it advertises a club to many of us that we can't be a member of. It separates them from us. The fast from the slow. For some of us, no matter how hard we train, those qualifying times are not attainable, like those extra inches elude many of us who just don't grow that tall.
Speed. My pursuit of it over all else is present in running and in life. According to one of the TED talkers in this podcast, Carl Honore: "We're so marinated in the culture of speed that we almost fail to notice the toll it takes on every aspect of our lives - on our health, our work, our relationships and our community." As these sentiments from the podcast bounced around my brain, and ideas started shooting off in all directions, my pace quickened. My mind and my legs were turning over at a pace far greater than was helpful. I thought about my work, and how my days are not as full as they used to be in different jobs. I crave to be busier. Why? Why can't I enjoy the slower more relaxed pace of my new environment? It is an entire frame shift for me to slow down at work and slow down in running (despite how often I tell my athletes to slow down). According to Honore, U.S. culture makes slowing down a behavior that is shamed or discouraged. He states:
The amount of times I have heard fellow athletes offer up "I'm slow" prior to a run or other workout as if naming it up front anesthetizes them from their embarrassment. They don't profess to be good or fast and just want others around them to know that. What does "slow" really mean when a vast majority of people don't even choose to exercise in any way? Why do we tell ourselves and others we are "slow" or "not as fast" as someone else? We say this self-deprecating statement in fun, but it reveals an underlying sense of shame about our level of ability.
Faster isn't necessarily better. Running in Zone 4 for every run, work or life activity won't actually make you faster or more efficient, it will just wear you out. U.S. culture promotes Zone 4 all the time for everything with the prestige associated with a BQ time, 40 hour work weeks, minimal PTO, and lack of health and wellness benefits. Is it any wonder many of us struggle with the meaning of happiness when we don't ever give ourselves enough time to really think about it. To be in the moment, and accept each moment as an opportunity, is what we miss. How many more moments will we all get? As Honore says, it's time for us to get "in touch with [our] inner tortoise[s]." Live our lives rather than racing through them.
Quote and information taken from NPR podcast Ted Radio Hour, "Is There a Secret to Happiness?" http://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/267185371/simply-happy (2/14/2104)
via GIPHY
and it was a blue bird day; 50 degrees in late December. The weather helped lift my mood. Perfect running weather.
As with all things podcast, I am usually hearing insightful comments, quotes, or thought provoking questions every few minutes. When running, these sources of inspiration and intellectual engagement help pass the time, and send my mind into overdrive. Where my mind goes, my legs follow and sure enough, I find my Zone 2 run is hovering more around Zone 4. I have so many thoughts that I wish I could write them down while running. This may prove complicated and perhaps somewhere in that wish is a new generation of gadgets for creative runners.
Back to the Happiness podcast. Among the many synapses firing from this hour of insight, two things struck me, well three actually. The first is that we move too fast. Our culture promotes doing more with less time, and thus, happiness passes us by because we are too preoccupied with doing rather than being. Second, we have too much stuff. We don't live simply enough and over the course of our lives, accrue a great deal of useless things. None of this stuff contributes to our happiness. The happiness we yield from it, is often momentary or is because the thing is associated with a happy memory. It is not the thing itself that makes us happy. Third, a quote: "it is not happiness that makes us grateful, it's gratefulness that makes us happy" (Brother David Steidl-Rast). I want to talk briefly about gratefulness and happiness and then about our fixation on speed because I see them as connected. I will save "stuff" for another post because there is much to say on that topic.
Being grateful, according to Steidl-Rast whose Ted Talk was featured in this podcast, is connected to recognizing that every moment we experience is a gift and an opportunity. We have no idea how many more moments will be given to us, how many more opportunities, so we should be grateful for every one. With that gratefulness comes happiness. Steidl-Rast is not saying we should be grateful for everything, because I am not grateful for violence, hate, war and bigotry. What he is saying is that we should avail ourselves of every opportunity given to us, and in so doing, we find happiness. Moments, he argues, are the most valuable things we can be given.
Now to our preoccupation with speed. I am currently contemplating my desire to continue chasing the elusive Boston Marathon qualification time by running yet another marathon in 2017. I had thought that my most recent marathon would be the finale in this story. If I didn't make the cut off, I would release myself from the self-inflicted goal of seeking a qualification time. However, that is not how the post-marathon thinking has played out for me. Which, in hindsight, I should have easily predicted. Runners do have, after all, pretty bad short term memories.
Qualifying for Boston is about getting faster, and with getting faster, comes work. Lots of miles, lots of speed work, and lots of time spent running. The drive to get faster is relentless. And, I am not sure how healthy it is. The qualification bar for women is far easier than it is for men, and yet, for many of us, not reaching it feels like a badge of shame. It reminds me of fairground rides I couldn't go on when I was a kid because I wasn't tall enough. Failing to reach my BQ time evokes the same feelings of inadequacy as standing against the makeshift ruler to determine whether my height met their safety standard. At the fairground ride, I would stand on my tip toes, hoping those extra centimeters would make a difference. This time, it's minutes and seconds and not feet and inches that determine my entry into the club. It is a point of pride for many, many runners to qualify for Boston, and they wear their Boston jackets and shirts like it's their nation's flag. I don't begrudge them that, and yet, it advertises a club to many of us that we can't be a member of. It separates them from us. The fast from the slow. For some of us, no matter how hard we train, those qualifying times are not attainable, like those extra inches elude many of us who just don't grow that tall.
Speed. My pursuit of it over all else is present in running and in life. According to one of the TED talkers in this podcast, Carl Honore: "We're so marinated in the culture of speed that we almost fail to notice the toll it takes on every aspect of our lives - on our health, our work, our relationships and our community." As these sentiments from the podcast bounced around my brain, and ideas started shooting off in all directions, my pace quickened. My mind and my legs were turning over at a pace far greater than was helpful. I thought about my work, and how my days are not as full as they used to be in different jobs. I crave to be busier. Why? Why can't I enjoy the slower more relaxed pace of my new environment? It is an entire frame shift for me to slow down at work and slow down in running (despite how often I tell my athletes to slow down). According to Honore, U.S. culture makes slowing down a behavior that is shamed or discouraged. He states:
"slow is a dirty word in our culture. It's a byword for lazy, slacker, for being somebody who gives up. You know, he's a bit slow. It's actually synonymous with being stupid. I think there's a kind of metaphysical dimension that speed becomes a way of walling ourselves off from the bigger, deeper questions. We fill our heads with distraction, with busyness so that we don't have to ask - am I well? Am I happy? Are my children growing up right?"
The amount of times I have heard fellow athletes offer up "I'm slow" prior to a run or other workout as if naming it up front anesthetizes them from their embarrassment. They don't profess to be good or fast and just want others around them to know that. What does "slow" really mean when a vast majority of people don't even choose to exercise in any way? Why do we tell ourselves and others we are "slow" or "not as fast" as someone else? We say this self-deprecating statement in fun, but it reveals an underlying sense of shame about our level of ability.
Faster isn't necessarily better. Running in Zone 4 for every run, work or life activity won't actually make you faster or more efficient, it will just wear you out. U.S. culture promotes Zone 4 all the time for everything with the prestige associated with a BQ time, 40 hour work weeks, minimal PTO, and lack of health and wellness benefits. Is it any wonder many of us struggle with the meaning of happiness when we don't ever give ourselves enough time to really think about it. To be in the moment, and accept each moment as an opportunity, is what we miss. How many more moments will we all get? As Honore says, it's time for us to get "in touch with [our] inner tortoise[s]." Live our lives rather than racing through them.
Quote and information taken from NPR podcast Ted Radio Hour, "Is There a Secret to Happiness?" http://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/267185371/simply-happy (2/14/2104)
Friday, December 9, 2016
Is there a thing as too much traveling?
The latter half of 2016 has involved a lot of work related travel for me. A short trip every week or so on average. My travel has largely been in state and has involved a lot of driving. I started this post on a plane home from a pseudo work-related trip to Atlanta and I remember being really ready to be home. After my Atlanta trip, I traveled for work again the following week and then again a week and a half after that. It is now December, and I have just returned from Sacramento and running the California International Marathon. At this point in 2016, I am pretty much over the traveling, a phrase I never thought I would say.
In general, I think that traveling is important, actually critical for each of us. When we travel and experience and engage with different people, environments, and cultures, we are all the better for it. There is so much to see and do, and so many people to meet and learn from. I have often romanticized traveling for work; wishing for one of those jobs that takes me all over the world on the company dime. While I am not giving up the dream of finding a job that offers me this perk, I am less inclined to believe it would be as fun as I had previously thought. My traveling has reminded me of the George Clooney movie, Up in The Air (2009), where he reaches some magical status with United Airlines because he travels all the time. He has his carry on packing strategy nailed down and knows U.S. airports like the back of his hand. Ultimately though, the story is about loneliness. He lacks connection to others because he is never “home,” whatever home actually means to his character.
The morning before flying back from Atlanta, I went on a long run. A great way to explore a new city and see it comprehensively. I signed up with an Atlanta running meet up group for part of it and got to meet 10 or so Atlanta runners. One of these runners shared that she was headed to Mexico City the next day. She was asked whether she could make this trip on a Thursday, 4 days before she would be required to leave. She talked about it like “ugh, I have to go to Mexico City tomorrow.” I am running alongside and thinking how freaking awesome is that? But now, as I reflect back on my in-state travel schedule these last few months, I understand where she is coming from. I am tired and the idea of flying to Mexico City exhausts me. Her company is a US/Danish owned company and she has traveled to Denmark and other locations fairly frequently. Perhaps like me, she is sick of it. Perhaps this “on the go” work schedule diminishes her capacity to find connection with others as she is never around long enough to build more than fleeting relationships. Of course, that is speculation on my part as she and I did not talk about that.
In general, I think that traveling is important, actually critical for each of us. When we travel and experience and engage with different people, environments, and cultures, we are all the better for it. There is so much to see and do, and so many people to meet and learn from. I have often romanticized traveling for work; wishing for one of those jobs that takes me all over the world on the company dime. While I am not giving up the dream of finding a job that offers me this perk, I am less inclined to believe it would be as fun as I had previously thought. My traveling has reminded me of the George Clooney movie, Up in The Air (2009), where he reaches some magical status with United Airlines because he travels all the time. He has his carry on packing strategy nailed down and knows U.S. airports like the back of his hand. Ultimately though, the story is about loneliness. He lacks connection to others because he is never “home,” whatever home actually means to his character.
The morning before flying back from Atlanta, I went on a long run. A great way to explore a new city and see it comprehensively. I signed up with an Atlanta running meet up group for part of it and got to meet 10 or so Atlanta runners. One of these runners shared that she was headed to Mexico City the next day. She was asked whether she could make this trip on a Thursday, 4 days before she would be required to leave. She talked about it like “ugh, I have to go to Mexico City tomorrow.” I am running alongside and thinking how freaking awesome is that? But now, as I reflect back on my in-state travel schedule these last few months, I understand where she is coming from. I am tired and the idea of flying to Mexico City exhausts me. Her company is a US/Danish owned company and she has traveled to Denmark and other locations fairly frequently. Perhaps like me, she is sick of it. Perhaps this “on the go” work schedule diminishes her capacity to find connection with others as she is never around long enough to build more than fleeting relationships. Of course, that is speculation on my part as she and I did not talk about that.
To be able to travel is itself a privilege, whether you are doing it for work or pleasure. Articulating a struggle with traveling is not to say I don't also recognize the tension between opportunity and fatigue. Being on the go, living out of a suitcase, infrequently eating at home and never feeling quite settled is draining. Whatever we do in our work, the more we do it, the less exciting it gets. At some point, the novelty wears off and it just becomes your life. When things become normal they cease to be as captivating and can often teeter over into feeling like a chore.
I didn’t plan well with my flight home from Atlanta and I didn’t bring headphones or a book. I remember being annoyed at myself for not more effectively planning ahead. I had booked a later flight and had zero recollection why I did that when I could easily have taken an earlier one. In a desperate attempt to maintain some level of alertness, I ordered two sugary and caffeinated drinks. Sadly, they did nothing for the overall fatigue my body felt being on the move all the time. At the time of this flight home, I was also at the height of marathon training (the long run I completed was 20 miles) and I just felt wiped out. My co-traveler and I had lamented about how ready we were to be home, to see our loved ones, and our pups. We craved sleeping in our own bed, eating our own food, and reconnecting with stability.
When I took my current position, I knew there would be travel. It seemed so cool at first to be traveling here, there, and everywhere and I was excited. Now however, I am rethinking much about my initial “Yes! Traveling for work is NO problem,” because I think it kind of is. My travel schedule is nothing like the runner I met in Atlanta or the fictional character in George Clooney’s film, but it still takes a toll and it is lonely. Even when meeting new people or traveling with colleagues, you are sometimes adrift in a new place, eating alone, wishing you could share it with friends or family. Have I hit my travel for work limit? Maybe. I know I am happier now that my flurry of trips is complete.
I guess the message in all this is to take care of yourselves. What may at first seem like a fantastic opportunity doesn't preclude the fact that it might get old or that it might get difficult. Take opportunity, certainly, but be thoughtful about it. Shiny, new things don't stay shiny forever. If you love to travel, and traveling is part of your work, the risk is that travel becomes synonymous with work and thus loses its shine.
I guess the message in all this is to take care of yourselves. What may at first seem like a fantastic opportunity doesn't preclude the fact that it might get old or that it might get difficult. Take opportunity, certainly, but be thoughtful about it. Shiny, new things don't stay shiny forever. If you love to travel, and traveling is part of your work, the risk is that travel becomes synonymous with work and thus loses its shine.
Monday, November 14, 2016
The Incompleteness of Words
I have started and stopped writing a blog post on the recent U.S. election several times over this week. I have largely hesitated to write something on the results because I don't even know how to write something that captures the magnitude and nuance of what transpired. I also have nervousness in sharing my thoughts as a woman, business owner and non-citizen. However, this blog is about my observations on culture and communication in an effort to provoke thought and in some cases change. To be silent is to be complicit; separating myself from those who voted against the civil rights of others denies my culpability as someone who benefits from whiteness. As a budding blogger committed to social justice and social change, I have to say something, however lacking or insufficient, to address the enormity of what happened.
In the wake of November 8th, I, like many others find myself at a loss for words. I am unsure what to say, what I can say, or what I should say. I don't profess to think I can say anything that will make the result better or less painful. I have felt a complex fabric of emotions, ranging from emptiness to disgust to disbelief. Trump's election impacts me directly as a woman and (aspiring) ally and impacts many people I care about in devastating ways.
The pain I have experienced, absorbed and witnessed from, and through, other people online and in person is indescribable over the past six days. The President-elect's campaign rhetoric, woven deeply with racist, sexist, classist, ableist, homophobic, transphobic, and xenophobic sentiment, exposed a deep divide in this country. Because of this, many people, particularly those most marginalized are legitimately scared about what comes next. They see and feel danger and risk in our new President-elect's policies and ideals. And those feelings are absolutely legitimate. The language of exclusion is a "normal" experience for immigrants, folks of color, trans people, LGB people, folks with disabilities, and women in this country and that reality goes a long way to explain the "how" of why we find ourselves in this place. For many, Trump's election was not surprising. As I scroll through the various Facebook posts and news articles, as I speak to friends, and hear from students, the fear of what is next is palpable. I am at once numbed and enraged by it.
My fear about the totality of what may come next is punctuated by my deep disappointment at the fact the USA couldn't bring itself to elect a woman president. I feel an immense sense of sadness over this. I don't think I realized just how invested I was in seeing a woman in the highest office in the U.S. until I woke up to the news it wasn't happening. That Hillary Clinton was not elected is unsurprising in the most pedestrian of ways, and yet I find myself ping ponging back and forth between this acknowledgement and the shock of it all. It feels like a bad dream that I desperately hope to wake from. I have worked for years to support women and girls, to break down gender and gender stereotypes that restrict and inhibit all of us from achieving our potential, and in particular to end violence against women. I cannot shake the fact that millions of Americans of all gender identities heard Trump's multiple comments about women and decided that it wasn't enough for them to cast their vote elsewhere. Women's value in contemporary U.S. society is so insignificant that voters just passed over his disdain for 50% of the population. They heard his comments and simply explained them away, were indifferent, or worse, acknowledged they were problematic and still voted for him. This is also true for his comments on Muslim people, refugees, and Mexican immigrants. His racism and misogyny was not a deal breaker for the 60 million people who voted and the many million more who did not.
The undercurrent of sexism was, and is, so very apparent. One young woman interviewed on NPR about why she either didn't vote or voted for someone else was as follows (paraphrased): "Hillary is really smart, really experienced and she can absolutely get the job done...but she isn't as charming as Barack Obama." Charming? Really. That is the key qualification you look for over and above smarts, experience, and ability to do the job? Another person shared that while Trump is "clearly crazy" (recognize the ableist language here), he voted for him anyway. I don't even know how to respond to these kinds of sentiments. How do women compete in a culture that minimizes sexual violence against them and thinks "volatile," "reckless" and "erratic" are more compelling qualities in a man, than electing a smart and vastly qualified woman?
As John Oliver stated in his last show of the season, we must constantly remind ourselves that this reality should not become our new normal. Years ago, at a multicultural retreat I was facilitating, a colleague shared that "we (those with privilege) must smell the air, even when it doesn't smell for us." I have never forgotten his statement. This could not be more vital right here, right now, particularly for men and for white people. If we explain this election away by saying well, Hillary wasn't charming, or Hillary had too much baggage, we legitimize a culture and a system that endorsed and elected an openly bigoted man by (in part) blaming the woman who ran against him. If we try to persuade ourselves that everything will be okay, that should be our sign that we have lost sight of the abnormality of what just happened and of our own privilege.
I acknowledge that my experience of the result is mediated by my own identities, my own lack of voting power, and the reality that I am tied deeply to those who voted for Donald Trump through my social identities (in particular, white women). I am ashamed and embarrassed but neither of these feelings will slow the tide of bigotry that has been uncovered during this campaign. As I mentioned earlier, racism and sexism are normal experiences for millions of people in the U.S., but we cannot let that continue. We must not get complacent as the days turn into weeks and weeks into months and the election fades from our view. As incomplete and imperfect as these words are (because there is just.so.much), I hope they are helpful, even minimally, for anyone who reads this blog. In peace.
In the wake of November 8th, I, like many others find myself at a loss for words. I am unsure what to say, what I can say, or what I should say. I don't profess to think I can say anything that will make the result better or less painful. I have felt a complex fabric of emotions, ranging from emptiness to disgust to disbelief. Trump's election impacts me directly as a woman and (aspiring) ally and impacts many people I care about in devastating ways.
The pain I have experienced, absorbed and witnessed from, and through, other people online and in person is indescribable over the past six days. The President-elect's campaign rhetoric, woven deeply with racist, sexist, classist, ableist, homophobic, transphobic, and xenophobic sentiment, exposed a deep divide in this country. Because of this, many people, particularly those most marginalized are legitimately scared about what comes next. They see and feel danger and risk in our new President-elect's policies and ideals. And those feelings are absolutely legitimate. The language of exclusion is a "normal" experience for immigrants, folks of color, trans people, LGB people, folks with disabilities, and women in this country and that reality goes a long way to explain the "how" of why we find ourselves in this place. For many, Trump's election was not surprising. As I scroll through the various Facebook posts and news articles, as I speak to friends, and hear from students, the fear of what is next is palpable. I am at once numbed and enraged by it.
My fear about the totality of what may come next is punctuated by my deep disappointment at the fact the USA couldn't bring itself to elect a woman president. I feel an immense sense of sadness over this. I don't think I realized just how invested I was in seeing a woman in the highest office in the U.S. until I woke up to the news it wasn't happening. That Hillary Clinton was not elected is unsurprising in the most pedestrian of ways, and yet I find myself ping ponging back and forth between this acknowledgement and the shock of it all. It feels like a bad dream that I desperately hope to wake from. I have worked for years to support women and girls, to break down gender and gender stereotypes that restrict and inhibit all of us from achieving our potential, and in particular to end violence against women. I cannot shake the fact that millions of Americans of all gender identities heard Trump's multiple comments about women and decided that it wasn't enough for them to cast their vote elsewhere. Women's value in contemporary U.S. society is so insignificant that voters just passed over his disdain for 50% of the population. They heard his comments and simply explained them away, were indifferent, or worse, acknowledged they were problematic and still voted for him. This is also true for his comments on Muslim people, refugees, and Mexican immigrants. His racism and misogyny was not a deal breaker for the 60 million people who voted and the many million more who did not.
The undercurrent of sexism was, and is, so very apparent. One young woman interviewed on NPR about why she either didn't vote or voted for someone else was as follows (paraphrased): "Hillary is really smart, really experienced and she can absolutely get the job done...but she isn't as charming as Barack Obama." Charming? Really. That is the key qualification you look for over and above smarts, experience, and ability to do the job? Another person shared that while Trump is "clearly crazy" (recognize the ableist language here), he voted for him anyway. I don't even know how to respond to these kinds of sentiments. How do women compete in a culture that minimizes sexual violence against them and thinks "volatile," "reckless" and "erratic" are more compelling qualities in a man, than electing a smart and vastly qualified woman?
As John Oliver stated in his last show of the season, we must constantly remind ourselves that this reality should not become our new normal. Years ago, at a multicultural retreat I was facilitating, a colleague shared that "we (those with privilege) must smell the air, even when it doesn't smell for us." I have never forgotten his statement. This could not be more vital right here, right now, particularly for men and for white people. If we explain this election away by saying well, Hillary wasn't charming, or Hillary had too much baggage, we legitimize a culture and a system that endorsed and elected an openly bigoted man by (in part) blaming the woman who ran against him. If we try to persuade ourselves that everything will be okay, that should be our sign that we have lost sight of the abnormality of what just happened and of our own privilege.
I acknowledge that my experience of the result is mediated by my own identities, my own lack of voting power, and the reality that I am tied deeply to those who voted for Donald Trump through my social identities (in particular, white women). I am ashamed and embarrassed but neither of these feelings will slow the tide of bigotry that has been uncovered during this campaign. As I mentioned earlier, racism and sexism are normal experiences for millions of people in the U.S., but we cannot let that continue. We must not get complacent as the days turn into weeks and weeks into months and the election fades from our view. As incomplete and imperfect as these words are (because there is just.so.much), I hope they are helpful, even minimally, for anyone who reads this blog. In peace.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Empathy and Power
I listened to an interesting podcast the other day on the issue of power. Dacher Keltner, a psychologist who teaches at UC Berkeley, shared his research that found those who are generous, kind and empathetic are typically people who don’t hold much power in society. This didn’t much surprise me, I think it makes intuitive sense. His research also demonstrated that those employees, people, and leaders who experience the most respect from others, and thus social power, are those who are emotionally intelligent, kind and generous. Displaying empathy therefore is a force that can lead you to acquire social power. This was interesting to me because I have heard time and again that being “too kind” or “too empathetic” can lead you to be either taken advantage of or left behind. Gender constructions position women most often in the “kindness” box and we see that few women acquire extensive, large-scale social or structural power. Indeed, if they are perceived as too kind or too empathetic then society judges them harshly as weak.
What was most fascinating about Keltner’s research however, was that when folks acquire power, they tend to lose their capacity to be empathetic: “once we feel powerful, we lose - or our capacity to empathize and to know what others are thinking really is diminished.” In gaining power within whatever system a person exists, they can become less invested in others and their empathy networks in the brain are actually quieted (research by Keely Muscatell and Supvindeer Obdea shows this). Folks who hold a lot of power and privilege, the research shows, have inactive empathy networks in their frontal lobes. Keltner on Muscatell and Obdea’s research: “if you come from a position of privilege and power, the classic empathy networks in the frontal lobes of your brain are not even active when you're thinking about another [person]. So this is a very deep effect of what power does to our empathic capacities.”
I am not a scientist nor do I know much about the brain, however, I found this to be pretty interesting. The interviewer asked about billionaires who are also very philanthropic but the researcher’s response was to point out that the philanthropy might actually be a very small percentage of their actual wealth versus someone with less who gives a greater percentage of their income/assets. If someone only gives a tiny percentage of their wealth, even though this figure might be enormous, does that actually make them particularly generous or empathetic to other people’s needs?
When I think about leadership, I think fondly of those leaders I have encountered who truly seem to care about those around them and their communities. Sadly, these people I can probably count on one hand. Most leadership lessons I have experienced have been lessons in how not to treat others. Individuals I have known in workplaces who I might categorize as empathetic and generous, when rising in the ranks and acquiring more (structural) power within that system, have been unpredictable in how they have then continued to maintain connection with their colleagues and continued to exercise empathetic and generous leadership. Power corrupts, we have all heard that phrase, but research is showing that corruption isn’t just a selfish desire to maintain one’s power per se, but instead a dampening of the parts of the brain that oversee empathy. Gaining power creates a physiological reaction that diminishes our actual ability to be empathetic to others. What does this mean for leadership in general? How do we each maintain a connectivity to kindness and generosity when our brain changes as we gain power – social, political, structural, financial or otherwise? We can see this playing out right now in the U.S. presidential election.
Hidden Brain podcast on power: http://www.npr.org/2016/09/06/492305430/the-perils-of-power
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