Action, Opportunity, and Impact

We all know that personal action is required to take advantage of opportunities in life. Otherwise, they lie inert for us and then dissipate. But there's also a deeper perspective available. In Adam Bryant's New York Times column "Corner Office," Lori Senecal, Global CEO of ad agency C. P. &B. and CEO of the MDC Partner Network said something interesting this week while reflecting back on her own graduation from college and going for her first job. She got an offer and decided to take it without even realizing what all it involved. She comments:

That was a time when I embraced one of the philosophies that I go back to a lot today, which is that action creates opportunity. I didn’t know what the nature of the job would be, but I knew that if I took action, other possibilities would appear, and they did. Ever since then, I’ve often thought about action creating opportunity.

Bryant later asked her what advice she would give to new college graduates, and she said:

I talk to them about action creating opportunity. So dive in, and great things will come of it. The other thing I like to focus on is the importance of impact. You have to learn to prioritize the impact opportunities rather than just being busy. There’s an infinite amount of things that you can do, but focus on the things that will catapult the company and your career forward.

Action and opportunity - action and impact: Two vital connections. Taking action in reasonable ways, in ways that are right for us, creates opportunities, and then among those that arise, we should choose to act further on the ones that will have the greatest likely impact for good on the world, our businesses, and our own careers. Well directed action is the key, at both levels.

This is the philosophy I call activism. It's up to us to take action. Do things that matter, both by creating new possibilities, and by having impact. This is nice advice to keep in mind, not just for recent graduates, but for all of us along life's way.

The Night I Flew the Plane

Have I ever told you about the time that, as the sole passenger on a fairly large twin engine corporate airplane flying through a blizzard at night somewhere over the midwest, I was called up into the cockpit by the pilot, and asked to fly the plane? 

Yeah. In case I’ve never mentioned it before, I’m not making this up. I was staring out my window from my plush leather seat on the right side of the plane, looking at the torrent of huge snowflakes swirling all around us in the darkness, when the co-pilot suddenly came back to my seat and told me the captain wanted me up front.

What? Was it a logic emergency? Or an unexpected metaphysical conundrum? In the circumstances, I was hoping he didn't want to chat quickly about arguments in favor of life after death.

When I got over my surprise and made it into the cockpit, the somewhat elderly looking captain said, “So, I’ve been told you’re a little worried about flying.” I was, at that time in my life many years ago, actually worried more about crashing, but I agreed to his milder characterization, not even wanting, in the situation, to bring up that other topic, or even the word.

“Have a seat,” he said. “I want you to fly the plane for a while.”

“Wait. What?”

“I’m going to show you how to fly the plane.”

"Right now? In all this snow?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

He said, “I don’t think you’ll ever be worried any more.”

Or anything else any more, I thought. “You’re really absolutely sure?”

“Yes, indeed. Take the open seat here.”

So, to make a long story short, but not as short as it could have been, with the plane under my command, I learned how to fly that night.

And I learned how far we are, in normal circumstances, from really paying attention to what we’re doing. There are times, like, for example, in flying a plane for the first time in your life, and at night, in a blizzard, where your senses are instantly so enhanced you almost feel like you have perceptual superpowers. Your mind is so clear that you can’t believe such a degree of clarity is possible. Your focused concentration is so complete - well, you get the idea. If we could tap into that in more normal situations, just imagine.

It helps the story for me to tell you that the airplane was a vintage Grumman Mallard, a sea plane that had been shot down and dredged up after the second world war from the bottom of Tokyo Bay and then completely rebuilt. And, no, I’m not making this up, either. That’s what they told me when I had said how remarkable it was. It was such a beautiful plane, full of gorgeous woods and supple leather, and all in a style not seen since 1945. When I first got on board, I felt like Humphrey Bogart. That was before I started feeling like Amelia Earhart.

That night I learned a lot about how airplanes fly, and how the controls work - enough to have great admiration for the people whose job is to get us in this mode to where we’re going. And for some reason, that surreal experience did give me more assurance about flying. I mean, if I can do it, even for just a few minutes, I guess I can trust the licensed professionals, two of whom are busily getting me somewhere as I type these words. I just hope they don’t need me up there again. It’s a 757, a little big for my current and rusty skills.

And, Oh, this blog post should probably have a philosophical point, or moral - so here goes: Philosophers are capable of more than mere flights of fancy.

Just kidding. If a philosopher can fly a plane at night in a blizzard, then I guess almost anyone can do almost anything - at least, with a trained professional hovering close by.

And if you ever see me walking down the street wearing surgical scrubs, or SWAT gear, don’t look so surprised. My toga might be at the cleaners.

An Idea is a Spark

An idea is a spark of possibility. But a spark needs proper tinder in order to give rise to a flame.

I was re-reading The Notebooks of Albert Camus for a bit, and I came across this passage:

For a thought to change the world, it must first change the life of the man who carries it. It must become an example.

I've long had a certain practice. I come across some new idea, or a set of ideas. I get excited about it. I want to pass it on, to write about it, and to speak on it. But first, I have to try it out. I have to use my own life as an experimental laboratory. Will this new idea spark a flame in the right way? Can I make use of it well? If I've tried an idea in my own life and it works as well as I had hoped, then I can tell others.

There are too many people in the world right now writing about, speaking on, and teaching ideas that they haven't really used themselves, because, if they had, they would know that those ideas don't work - or at least not in the way they're portrayed.

An idea is a spark of possibility. Is it a possibility in the actual world? Can it work? Have you tried it out before passing it on?

When you come across a great idea, and your life has ample kindling in it, you'll know by the flame that leaps high that you have something worth sharing. And others will come to your light.

Worst Case Scenario Thinking

Worst case scenario thinking is healthy, worst case scenario believing is not. And there's an important difference. Prudence in life requires that we understand the ways in which things could go wrong, and have some idea as to what we would do if they did. That's worst case scenario thinking. We imagine various negative scenarios enough to prepare for them, but no more than that. Too much imagination can actually become anticipation, and that easily can turn into belief.

When I was a teenager, my father used to tell me stories about effective worst case scenario thinking. A dump truck driver had imagined what would happen if the bed of the truck was in the up position and there was a catastrophic failure causing it to fall onto the cab. He had visualized jumping into the floorboard to keep from being crushed. And then one day it happened. And he was unhurt, because he instantly had done exactly what he had imagined.

At its best, worst case scenario thinking is a form of "what if" planning. It prepares us for remote possibilities, and thereby helps us to avoid the most damaging consequences that could otherwise ensue. As such, it's actually a way of building confidence and assurance, rather than anxiety. But at its worst, the same sort of thinking can become both believing and fearing. Out of control, it unhinges us and impedes our performance. It's up to use to use it in the best way, and avoid the worst case scenario with it.

Courage in 5 Tweets

I was looking through my little book Twisdom and came across a few old tweets on courage, a topic I've mentioned recently in responding to a blog post comment. These tweets struck me anew and generated some nice additional pondering, so I thought I'd share them today. 

1. The courageous souls around us are here to remind us what we’re here to be.

2. Only courage will crack the thick shell of possibility and yield us the treasures within.

3. Courage is willing to walk in darkness while shining a light for others to follow.

4. Courage is something we have deep down in us when we need it – if we’ll just reach for it and act!

5. Courage is the power of choice even in the face of fear.

 It was number two that really got me thinking. How much possibility is unrealized in the world and in our lives, because we're not bold or brave enough to crack the shell around it? In the coming year, let's be courageous in little things as well as in big things. We need it. And so does the world. And that leads me to number three.

Shine your light.