In the Face of Indifference: Thrive.

Do you remember the comedian Rodney Dangerfield? “I don’t get no respect” was his slogan, and it was a signal that he was about to tell us a very funny story in a sentence or two about his latest humiliation in the ongoing history of his ill treatment by the world. Hootie and the Blowfish may have been the rock version of Rodney. An executive at their own record company called their hit album that sold millions of copies and shot them into fame and fortune, “unreleasable.” Coming between grunge and the biggest wave of rap, critics panned them as uncool and worse.

Let me quote today's New York Times:

<<Even in the years before Hootie, an earnest and deceptively easygoing roots-rock band, became a global pop phenomenon, there were indignities. The South by Southwest festival turned them down, year after year. Record labels sent stiff rejection letters.>>

And now the sentence I love:

<<Still, Hootie persevered, thriving in the face of indifference.>>

There’s our sermon for today, brothers and sisters. There’s our slogan. You feel like Rodney and Hootie? You don’t get no respect? Persevere. Thrive in the face of indifference. The world ignores you? Persevere and thrive. You’re viewed as so very uncool? P&T. You’re different, you don’t fit in? You're trying something new? You're going against the grain? As my friend David Rendall says in his fun book The Freak Factor and now proclaims from stages around the world, what makes you weird may just make you wonderful, whether everybody else recognizes that or not. As one of the band says, “We didn’t wear the right clothes, we didn’t have the right look, we didn’t portray the right thing. And when you do that, you’re just going to get dogged.” Then he adds the magic: “We didn’t sell out. We were true to ourselves, you know?”

They had some hits and were big for a while and got plenty of criticism and then the world moved on. They pretty much disappeared. And now they’re back. And the New York Times is celebrating them with a huge article and proclaiming them always to have been very underrated. I think that’s right. And, as a philosopher, I’m sure that their distinctive inner attitude is underrated. Be yourself. Persevere. And in the face of indifference, yeah, that's right: Thrive.

For the article, click HERE.

Success, Failure, and Effort

The most important distinction in this world isn't between success and failure, but effort and inertia. Forward movement counts. Destinations can change as we learn and grow. But growth requires movement. And that depends on effort. So rev it up and go.

Noble Failures

Sometimes, we fail through no fault of our own. We try something and it doesn’t go as planned. It may be the overall economic environment, or local conditions. Or it could be that the enterprise is undermined by someone with money and connections whose plans are contrary to our own.

This is the aspect of our common condition explored in the delightful little novel, The Bookshop, written by Penelope Fitzgerald, a British lady who first published, I believe, at the age of 60 and went on to win several awards for her short books, including the prestigious Booker Prize and the National Book Critics Circle Award.

I happened across this gem at Costco, where I was loitering after the purchase of three forty-two pound bags of kitty litter and pondering the wisdom of trying a $7.99 bottle of Kirkland Bordeaux with a beautiful black label. I got the book instead. It was more pleasant that I reasonably could have expected with the Bordeaux.

It’s about a lady who opens a book store in a damp old haunted house in a small town on the coast of England, a place that hasn’t had a bookshop before.

I offer here some nearly random free samples, which you won’t get with the Bordeaux, although, there were some tiny sausages being cooked up and offered for tasting in another part of the store. Our lady referred to below is a Ms. Florence Green.

She drank some of the champagne, and the smaller worries of the day seemed to stream upwards as tiny pinpricks through the golden mouthfuls and to break harmlessly and vanish. (20)

Will power is useless without a sense of direction. (37)

Back in the shadows went the Stickers, largely philosophy and poetry, which she had little hope of ever seeing the last of. (43)

He might be grievously disappointed, possibly after a lifetime of disappointments. (92)

“Understanding makes the mind lazy.” (101)

She looked with shame at the rows of patiently waiting unsold books. “You’re working too hard, Florence,” Milo said.

“I try to concentrate—Put those down, they’ve only just come in and I haven’t checked them. Surely you have to succeed, if you give everything you’ve got.”

“I can’t see why. Everyone has to give everything they have eventually. They have to die. Dying can’t be called a success.” (133)

For the book, CLICK HERE. And enjoy. Cheers.

The Old Man and the Sea

I just finished reading Ernest Hemingway’s little book The Old Man and the Sea for the first time in my adult life. I’m sure I had to read it in high school but remember nothing of the experience. I can imagine, however, the average student of that age saying, “We had to read this stupid story about this stupid old man and his stupid fish. It was all so stupid.”

And maybe for the young, it is. But not for those of us who have lived a bit more. It’s of course a story about a poor old fisherman in Cuba that was first published as a book in 1952 and won a Pulitzer Prize, as well as being cited in Hemingway’s Nobel Prize for Literature citation awarded two years later. First printed as a magazine article in Esquire many years before, it has haunted readers for each decade since.

The old man, Santiago, seems to have run out of luck. He’s in a dry patch. He has not caught a fish in 84 days. But he’s determined to go out and catch a big one. So he ventures out in his little boat much farther than is normal, out to where the biggest fish may be found. And after a time, he eventually hooks a huge Marlin who pulls him and his small boat farther away from land for three dqys. They fight and struggle and all the old man’s knowledge and skill are put to the test. Can he have the success of which he has dreamed? Can he endure all that is required? It's hugely difficult, but the answer is yes. The fish finally succumbs and is lashed to the boat and the old man heads back toward land with dreams of the glory and the needed practical income that will result from such a huge and perfect specimen, bigger than anyone has ever seen. It may even be a life changing accomplishment.

But the old man is out on the water alone. He has not brought along the strong boy who is his friend and who often accompanies him on fishing trips. During the extended struggle with the giant fish, he often wishes he had brought the boy with him to help. Another pair of hands could have been so useful. But he struggles mightily and prevails all alone and is glad. Yet, his solitary success is quickly followed by a new challenge. Sharks descend on the huge Marlin he has caught and the old man is limited in what he has with him to use to defend the catch. Thinking of something he could have brought with him, and should have brought along, he finally says to himself words that flow down the decades and into all of our lives:

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. (83)

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Or if you forgot to prepare for your adventure with sugar and water, is there at least some vodka around that you could use?

Santiago fights the first shark that attacks with a harpoon. After losing it, he lashes a knife to an oar and does battle with the next sharks who come. When that’s also gone, he begins to club at the predators. And eventually he is out of options. The thieves of the sea take more and more chunks out of his magnificent catch until there is nothing left but the spectacular spine and bones as a trophy of success and testimony of subsequent failure. He has lost what he had fought so hard to gain.

When he returns, exhausted, demoralized, bruised and cut up, he sleeps and the boy takes care of him. After they talk, the boy says: “Now we fish together again.”

The old man replies, “No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore.”

“The hell with luck,” the boy said. “I’ll bring the luck with me.” (92)

And then they begin to discuss what they will need to bring along with them to be properly prepared for anything they might face together.

And that’s a perspective and trajectory we all need. Great effort is sometimes followed by failure. Even great success can wither on the vine. Don’t let disappointment stop you, however deep and desperate it might be. And never just wait for luck. Bring the luck with you. Take action. Partner up with someone who can help boost your spirits and aid your cause. Prepare. Move forward once more. Remember: There is always a new dream and a new chance and many fish in the sea.

For the book, click HERE.

Crazy Big Goals

This week, the world watched Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson climb the Dawn Wall of El Capitain, in Yosemite National Park, over a stretch of 19 days. We all applauded in amazement as they struggled and succeeded at what's often described as the most challenging rock climb in the world. It was the first time the 3,000 foot sheer rock face had ever been taken on in a single expedition while using just hands and feet, rather than with the artificial means climbers have employed before. And there were many little failures that came before the crazy big outrageous success. I heard a television commentator put it well when he said about one of the guys: "He fell and fell and fell, until he didn't."

And that, in itself, is a great lesson.

Afterwards, Jorgeson said, "I hope it inspires people to find their own Dawn Wall, if you will. We've been working on this thing a long time, slowly and surely. I think everyone has their own secret Dawn Wall to complete one day, and maybe they can put this project in their own context."

As I read the details of their longtime dream, preparation, and execution of the climb, I saw the philosophers' 7 Cs of Success all through the story. Tommy and Kevin had:

C1 - A clear CONCEPTION of what they wanted, a vivid vision, a goal clearly imagined

C2 - A strong CONFIDENCE they could reach that goal

C3 - A focused CONCENTRATION on what it would take

C4 - A stubborn CONSISTENCY in pursuing their vision

C5 - An emotional COMMITMENT to what they were doing

C6 - A good CHARACTER to guide and keep them on course

C7 - A CAPACITY TO ENJOY the process along the way.

Whenever we see exceptional achievement in the world, we'll see the implementation and operation of these seven simple conditions that I've been speaking on for over 25 years. During that quarter of a century, I've seen many people get excited about The 7 Cs of Success but never apply them systematically in their lives, and others whose excitement translated into a relentless application of the conditions and a level of success that astonished everyone around them.

The philosophers can preach to us all day long, but it's what we learn by seeing people like Tommy and Kevin live their dream that really brings home to us how the right approach to anything can turn Crazy Big Goals into Crazy Big Success Stories.

Now. Go create your own.

Oh. And if you want to read more, go see the books True Success, or The Art of Achievement, or the big, comprehensive study of how the great thinkers have brought us these ideas and suggested that we use them, the new ebook, The 7 Cs of Success.

A Christmas Message on Bouncing High

We benefit from people sharing their success stories with us. We want to know: How did it happen? What did they do? Could they predict the process in advance, or were there surprises?

We benefit from people sharing their failure stories with us. We want to know: How did it happen? What did they do? Could they predict the process in advance, or were there surprises?

I've been a student of success for a very long time. And along the way, I've come to grasp the vital importance of understanding failure as a crucial part of any worthwhile adventure. In this world, success is often hard to attain, and failure's easy to stumble into. But what's easy can teach us about what's hard. Rather than being embarrassed about failure, we need to acknowledge it, embrace it, and learn from it. It's the world's most common course for the growth and excellence we all aspire to achieve.

Christmas is, in principle, a holiday in which we Christians celebrate a great experiment, an adventure, really, that seemed to end, thirty-some years after the original Christmas day, in tragic failure. But in that apparent failure, were the seeds of ultimate success. We're told that God, the Source of All, transformed the terrible into the wonderful. And that's how it can go for us, as well.

Wise people have given us some advice about this. They've said: Fail often, fail well, fail forward. Avoid only those failures that would take you out of the game altogether. And, while this, in principle, is great advice, we often overestimate the damage that a certain failure would create, and we shy away from trying. We forget our inner resilience that sometimes only failure reveals.

So, today's advice is simple. Be the little ball that bounces high whenever it hits bottom hard.

Don't fear failure. Fear only a refusal to learn from it and transform it to the success whose seeds it contains.

Merry Christmas.

Means and Ends and a Cat

As a philosopher, I learn in many ways. Early this morning, I came to an important realization.

Our cat likes to jump on my bedside table at 5:20AM and rub his face against a lamp shade, bumping it loudly into the wall. The purpose is to wake me up to feed him, or let him out of the room to roam or play with his adopted brother, the upstairs cat, or sometimes I think he just wants to see if he can get me up. I'm not usually ready to get up at 5:20. And if I pick him up off the table, or brush him gently off, to stop the racket and save the lamp, he just jumps back up and goes at it again. The second or third time, he typically begins throwing books off the table, one or two at a time. Yesterday, he started with a red leather moleskin diary, then a paperback novel, then a hardcover, and finally a large hardcover. And I won't even list the pens and other assorted items he tosses onto the floor. He must have jumped onto the table 12 times. And there was quite a lot of stuff on the floor, as a result.

My daughter suggested that I use a large spray bottle of water, which she's learned he doesn't like. She suspected that would stop him. So I filled the bottle and placed it on the table at bedtime last night. When the expected 5:20 wake up event happened this morning before dawn, I emerged from a deep sleep, fumbled to get the bottle in my hand, finally managing it, and in the pitch dark, I squeezed the spray handle as hard as I could, and successfully squirted a huge amount of water right into the middle of my own face. 

Well, that was a surprise that woke me up more fully than the cat. I couldn't believe what I had done. I also couldn't believe what happened next. 

The cat loudly jumped off the table and went to the far side of the large bedroom, where he then stayed. I guess, at that point, he didn't know what I'd do next. Or it could be that he just didn't want to see me drench myself again, altruist that he may, deep down, be.

The moral of the story is that, sometimes, even when our actions and plans seem to fail as means to an end, the end can nonetheless still be attained. Therefore, we shouldn't prematurely label an effort a failure just because it misfires in some strange way. The ultimately desired end may yet ensue. Curiosity may take the cat off to a safe distance where he can view the proceedings in greater safety. 

What's the old saying? God works in mysterious ways. So does the world. There are more ways things can develop than we initially might imagine. Even spraying yourself with cold water in the face in the dark is not necessarily the minor cat-astrophe it may at first seem.

Hearing No: Some Advice that Sticks.

This past weekend, I came across the story of Vera Stout. She was working at an ammunition factory during the second world war - not the safest of jobs - while her two sons were serving in the Navy. One day, she had an idea about how ammo boxes could be sealed with a cloth based tape that would allow them to be opened more quickly, ripped right off, and maybe that would save time and lives for troops under fire.

She took the idea to her bosses. They said no.

That happens a thousand times a day, or maybe an hour, around the world. Someone has a new idea about how to improve things, or a conception for a new product or business, and the gate keepers say no. The boss, the manager, the supervisor, the agent, isn't impressed. It won't work. No thanks. Sorry.

Too many people then just meekly give up. Vera wasn't the sort, so she wrote a letter to the president, not of her company, but of the United States, telling him about her idea. And within weeks, she got a letter from the Navy thanking her and saying that her invention would be rolled out right away. And many claim that it did save lives. Plus, what would the rest of us do without her creation - duct tape?

When you hear no, it's often more about the person rejecting your idea than the idea itself. Sometimes, the best thing to do is stick to your dream like the sturdiest duct tape.

Success, Failure, and Mastery

My barn having burned down, I can now see the moon.

- Mizuta Masahide

I just read a deep book on success, failure, and mastery – The Rise, by Sarah Lewis. It begins with that quote, which I love.  My barn has burned down at least a couple of times, and the moon has always given me new light for what I needed to build next.

The Rise is one of those books that you have to read more than once, and ponder, and review. But of course, as C. S. Lewis once said, if a book isn’t worth reading twice, it wasn’t worth reading once.

We live in a time when success is almost defined as celebrity, or status, or excessive wealth. Sarah Lewis helps us to reorient our thinking around the concept of mastery, and the process that develops it. And it’s the process that seems to be her real interest, because the process of growing in mastery of anything inevitably involves uncertainty, courage, failure, persistence, and struggle. We’ve demonized failure, when we should understand that it can actually be one of the higher angels of progress. Lewis tells story after story that show this. It’s hard to feel deep satisfaction in our work, or in our lives, unless we take on difficult challenges and take our lumps as we fight our way forward. Certainly, we should work with joy – that’s something I’ve always urged. But we haven’t really understood joy until we’ve reconciled it with life’s struggles. Otherwise, what we mistake for joy is just a superficial giddiness.  Authentic joy, deep joy, can sustain us in the battles of life, and it is precisely those battles that tear down and take away whatever superficialities are blocking us from the real thing.

Lewis writes about the great masters in any field and how they think about challenge and failure, and then gives it a personal twist when she says: “Many of the things most would avoid, these individuals had turned into an irreplaceable advantage. I still remember a shudder when I sensed a knowing as sure as fact – that I might only truly become my fullest self if I explored and stayed open to moving through daunting terrain.”

Life is supposed to be a series of adventures, and adventures by their very nature can be quite daunting. They involve uncertainty, fear, risk, and often pain. But they also bring our best hope at becoming what we’re capable of being and experiencing the fulfillment that alone accompanies the quest for our own personal forms of success.

Lewis says that, “The pursuit of mastery is an ever onward almost.” The beauty of it is that there is a sense in which it’s never quite attained, in its idealistic perfection. And yet, those whom we rightly call masters are just much farther along the curve, more advanced in their adventures, than is common to see.

She quotes Michelangelo as having prayed, “Lord, grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish,” which, in modern times, would strike many as heresy. Aren’t we supposed to accomplish more than we could possibly have desired? Our modern icons and titans of success have surely achieved more than they ever could have dreamed. Isn’t that our model?

The paradox easily melts away, because no one goes to places they haven’t even dreamed unless they’re always hoping and striving and looking for that next adventure, that unexpected opportunity, that one more thing as yet untried. And, in the end, it’s not about celebrity, or status, or financial wealth – it’s about a form of wealth that goes far beyond any of that, and is to be found only in the pursuit of our proper forms of mastery.

I may be writing more about Lewis and her book here at TomVMorris.com in the coming days. I'm still living with it, which is what you should do with a truly good book. Come visit and reflect with me.