Big Trees, Deep Roots

The other day, I spent the afternoon on the wide front porch wrapped around a beautiful house that was built in 1830. A great breeze cooled us as my family and I watched boats glide down the Intracoastal Waterway, and gazed on the homes of Wrightsville Beach, along the Atlantic Ocean, just across from us. Some of the oak trees on the property were amazing - with trunks so thick you couldn't get your arms around them, and soaring into the sky. There was even a tree house on the one acre property, built high in a spreading oak in 1904, and with a spiral metal staircase rising up to it. 

The house had stood and the trees had grown through nearly two centuries of coastal storms, as well as sunshine. And both the storms and the beautiful days had contributed to the beauty we experienced.

I was reminded of a statement once made by one of my favorite stoic philosophers, Seneca, who wrote this in first century Rome, in an essay called "On Providence":

Why, then, do you wonder that good men are shaken in order that they may grow strong? No tree becomes rooted and sturdy unless many a wind assails it. For by its very tossing, it tightens its grip and plants its roots more securely - the fragile trees are those that have grown in a sunny valley. It is, therefore, to the advantage of good men, to the end that they may be unafraid, to live constantly amidst alarms and to bear with patience the happenings that are ills only to him who ill supports them.

As Florida Scott Maxwell wrote in her incredibly wise little book The Measure of My Days, the things that we most resist and dislike, the things that cause us the most worry and pain, are often the very things that strengthen and deepen us the most, if we do our best to respond well. The storms of life can work a magic in us that transforms us into the people we're capable of being. Remember that in your next storm. Put out deeper roots, and grow tall.

Redemption

I'd never read Truman Capote. It's hard to have grown up in the twentieth century and not have come across and read anything by him. But just the other day I picked up the Modern Classics book, A Christmas Memory, One Christmas, and The Thanksgiving Visitor, largely because I noticed it on a shelf in my house. He was an amazing writer.

In the story about Thanksgiving, the narrator is an eight year old boy who has been relentlessly and cruelly bulled by a twelve year old boy in his class, a young man who has failed grades, and comes from a background of failure. Our narrator, Buddy, lives with some older relatives, several sisters and a brother, in Alabama, and is closest with a lady in her sixties, Miss Sook, he calls her, who is in many ways like a child. Her simplicity causes her to favor the company of young children. But it also helps her to see deep truths that normal people would miss. This comes across in all three stories, and struck me deeply as I read.

Because of an act of kindness she does for Buddy's tormentor, the sort of favor he's never received from anyone, apparently, he changes. He becomes a better person, in contradiction to all his previous behavior. The story reminds us that almost anyone can be redeemed, or transformed. But it rarely happens apart from an act of love and kindness.

We tend to think in the opposite way, that bad people deserve bad consequences. But sometimes, a small act of acceptance, and respect, and care, can change a heart. The author Truman Capote suffered much in his life. And because of that, he has some lessons to pass on to the rest of us. Redemption is possible. Change can happen. But if it's radical enough, it has to be helped along by acts of love, which themselves are radical enough to make it happen.

Our lesson is simple. It's important to be able to rise above things, and even act in love toward someone who seems not to deserve it. That way, you just might help make something radically good happen.

Where's Your Cow or Goat?

I believe we all have a spiritual need to feel useful, to take action to make a difference in the world, on however big or small a scale. And I also think that this provides us with an important hint as to how we should approach each day.

In a recent New York Times article, Nicholas Kristof reported on some new studies on whether philanthropic giving really makes a difference, long term, for people living in poverty. It turns out that the most effective giving involves a cow, or a goat, or chickens. Seeds also help. What doesn't help much, it seems, is money. It's all about a certain way of giving hope, through an opportunity for action.

When impoverished people are given a useful animal, one that can provide milk or eggs, as well as a form of companionship, and almost a sort of partnership, they become more active generally in their lives. They work more, they take more odd jobs, they have a new form of hope. They've been given the possibility of an activity, a usefulness in their own lives, that can make a difference for how they and their families live. And this is a form of giving that works. You know the old adage about giving a man a fish, or teaching him how to fish. Research now bears this out in more ways that we might have imagined.

And this provides a hint for all of us. How much time do you spend wishing things were better, or simply regretting the way things are? Most of us perceive a gap between where we are and where we'd like to be. And it bothers us. We worry about it. Or we even resent it. Sometimes, we feel hopeless to change it. Imagining how things could be better can almost take the wind out of our sails, if we stay passive in those imaginings.

But here's the insight: We all need a cow or a goat or some chickens. We need seeds. But then we need to plant the seeds. It's not merely having a cow, but taking action and milking it. It's not just the companionship of chickens, the camaraderie of the coop, but gathering the eggs that makes a big difference for impoverished people.

And here's something universal. We all need to feel a sense of control over our destinies. Desperately poor people given a cow develop that sense and experience hope. They're given a path, something they can do to feel some measure of control over their destinies. We all need that.

It seems to me that we all have a spiritual need for a sense of usefulness, and control, and action. We need to feel that we can begin to close the gap between what is and what could be. For me, the cow, or goat, might be my personal library, or my computer, or my website. I can read and discover. I can write. For you, it might be the same thing. Or something about your job could be it. Or a friend may provide you, through your relationship with him or her, that metaphorical goat, or those chickens you need. But remember that you need to take action.

When we see opportunity, we feel a glimmer of hope, and that combined with real actions, however small, can create a path forward.

What's your cow? What's your goat? Where are your chickens? When we clearly identify our opportunities and act on them daily, we begin to close the gap and move into our proper future with the feeling of hope that will help to get us there.

The Magic You Can Do

More than sixty years ago, Walt Disney looked at an ordinary orange grove and saw DisneyLand. Later, he gazed on some remote swamp in Florida and caught a glimpse of DisneyWorld. What are you looking at right now and not seeing?

Aristotle believed that the great oak naturally lives in the small acorn. It takes vision to see it. But that's not all. The alchemy of human creativity can go far beyond what's natural, and expected. The world is a warehouse of raw materials for our creative magic. It's not always easy to recognize the materials that are right for you and then to collect them together. But the right vision can help you to see how.

The great creators, like all artists, learn how to look, and how to see. Shake up your ordinary ways of viewing your surroundings. Try on a different perspective. Engage in "What if" musings. Stretch the borders of the expected. You may see things you've been missing - whether among the orange trees or in the swamp.

It could be that your very own DisneyWorld awaits, right now, lying magically within some setting that you've been seeing as just water, grass, mosquitoes, and gators that just is what it is, and that you can't do anything about. The people like Walt Disney, and Steve Jobs, help us to understand that the ordinary is all around us, just waiting to be transformed. The extraordinary can be yours.

Bouncing Back

A few years ago, I wrote a book called The Stoic Art of Living, which had the subtitle "Inner Resilience and Outer Results." The more I had read the ancient Roman stoic philosophers on the ups and downs of life, they more I had come to appreciate the quality of resilience as crucial to success in an uncertain world.

In a book called, Resilience: Why Things Bounce Back, author Andrew Zolli defines this quality as “the ability of people, communities, and systems to maintain their core purpose and integrity among unforeseen shocks and surprises.” I see it as a psychological tendency to bounce back from challenges, difficulties, and obstacles. The resilient person absorbs "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," as Hamlet put it, and bounces back with a positive attitude and renewed action toward his or her goals. 

We can cultivate resilience in our lives in many ways. The stoics had mental techniques a couple of thousand years ago that work today as well as they did then. One friend says that when big trees of misfortune fall across his path and block the way forward, he says to himself, "It's time to get out the chainsaw!" A Roman would have thought of his ax. A simple go-to image can make a difference, and turn around your emotions.

One particular ancient image can be helpful here. The debris of difficulty will at times fall like mounds of trash into almost any life. Many will feel smothered and give up. But if your spirit burns brightly enough with the fire of enthusiastic commitment, that debris is just more fuel for the fire. The amount of garbage that could smother a small flame will be consumed by a great one, which will then grow bigger. Difficulty can actually feed your determination. It's most often up to you.

The inertia of resistance typically pushes back against great new things, and creative people. A resilient individual lets this become a badge of honor, and uses it to fuel even greater efforts. So burn brightly, and enjoy the benefits of resilience that can result!

There's hardly anything in this world as satisfying as bouncing back from difficulty, challenge, and adversity, and attaining a level and form of success that can surprise and delight you.

Lessons From The America's Cup

The other night, I had a chat at the Eagle Point Golf Club with Russell Coutts, the man who has won more America's Cup Yacht Race victories than any other captain in the long history of the sport. I had first met him several years ago, and heard him speak about the challenge of bringing together great team members from various parts of the world and then winning against the top competition from around the globe. On that occasion, I first showed him my little laminated wallet card on The 7 Cs of Success, and he read through the conditions carefully, and then looked up at me and said, "This is what my guys do to come together and win."

As a reference, here they are. For true success in any difficult challenge, we need:

C1: A clear CONCEPTION of what we want, a vivid vision, a goal clearly imagined.

C2: A strong CONFIDENCE that we can attain the goal.

C3: A focused CONCENTRATION on what it will take to reach the goal.

C4: A stubborn CONSISTENCY in pursuing our vision, a determined persistence.

C5: An emotional COMMITMENT to the importance of what we're doing.

C6: A good CHARACTER to guide us and keep us on a proper course.

C7: A CAPACITY TO ENJOY THE PROCESS along the way.

It's amazing that philosophers thousands of years ago could grasp what it takes to win an America's Cup, or a National Championship, or a World Series, or an Olympic Gold Medal. I've had top athletes across sports tell me how surprised they are to see in The 7 Cs formula the ideas they've followed intuitively in order to attain the success they've had.

In speaking with Russell Coutts the other night, two related things came up. First: Our implementation of The 7 Cs has to be relentless in the face of difficulty and failure. In the latest America's Cup, the Nespresso team was ahead of Team Oracle USA by a whopping 7-1 score, with only one more point needed to beat Russell's guys. But his boss, Oracle founder Larry Ellison, had summed up what he had learned in the tech business by telling Russell, "NEVER GIVE UP." 

Russell said that when they were down 7-1, his guys never lost their confidence, but that the captain of the adversary boat, the Nespresso team, started worrying that something would happen. Then, it did. It's like the famous tightrope walker, Karl Wallenda, whose wife reported that earlier on the day he fell and died, she heard him say, for the first time ever, "I hope I don't fall today." And, he did. Confidence can be that important. And so can what we focus on.

Russell also talked about nerves before a race. The best people get nervous energy from the fact that they care, that they're committed. Confidence doesn't require a blindness to the challenges you'll face. In fact, to the contrary, a realistic estimation of the difficulty in any given task allows for powerful confidence, and a focused concentration on what it will take to overcome and prevail. Oracle USA did overcome and prevail, in what The Wall Street Journal called possibly the greatest comeback in the history of sports.

Like Russell's teams, I like to sail The 7 Cs. I hope you do, too.

Twitter Can Make You Stupid

According to a recent article in the Washington Post, Twitter can make you stupid, irritable, and tired.

For some years now, there's been a new understanding of the brain as in one important sense like a muscle. Constant use in processing information or making tough decisions depletes its energy and degrades the quality of its function. Because of this, you shouldn't appear in front of a judge right before lunch, or at the very end of the day, if you can avoid it. I'd avoid it altogether, but still, judges tend to be more reasonable and lenient first thing in the morning, or just after a good meal, which replenishes the depleted glucose stores in their brains that are then once again available for peak neural function, as well as fairness, justice, and kindness.

Ok, so back to Twitter. The Post article reported that, on average, we're exposed to and process five times more information every day than people did just twenty years ago. Add to that an ongoing stream of social media and you get a serious overload, even independent of what you're reading on Twitter or deciding to say there. It's not just the endless stream of Kardashian tweets. It's simply the constant exposure that can wear you out, even in short bursts, or in sessions lasting less than the common length of "Always On." The scientific claim is that people who check their phones incessantly for texts, emails, and their Twitter stream become mentally compromised, although I'm sure other experts would flip that claim around. If you're smart enough, wouldn't you avoid that in the first place? Maybe not.

Here's the problem: The more unimportant stuff that we think about and decide about, the less well prepared we are for handling the crucial stuff. No wonder meaning of life issues get neglected when there's always a new tweet on how you can lose weight/market yourself better/improve your public speaking/get a raise/get a deal/ or get more Twitter followers if you'll just click on this link, and give us your email address for THIS FREE DOWNLOAD THAT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

The cognitive psychologists interviewed for the Post piece are just coming up with one more reason why we should follow the advice of my friend Bill Powers in his book Hamlet's Blackberry, and wisely moderate how we use our communication devices, giving ourselves the breaks that we so richly deserve. To be or not to be, out of the stream - that is the question.

So: Give yourself a break now and then. Jump out of the stream and dry off. Bask a bit in the warm sun of peaceful calm. Avoid the new stupid.

That's real Twisdom.

Tom Brokaw on Luck

Parade Magazine recently ran a nice little article on the role luck has played in the life of newsman Tom Brokaw. He says some things of which we all need to be reminded.

I've long said that a rational person can be an optimist by being an activist. Unlike with slot machines or roulette wheels, the odds in life are something we can often change by taking action. Brokaw says this:

I believe you make your own luck. My motto is ‘It’s always a mistake not to go.’ So I jump on the airplane, try new things—sometimes I get in way over my head, but then I think, I'll work my way out of this somehow. A big part of making your own luck is just charging out of the gate every morning. The thing I love about living in New York is that I never fail to get up in the morning and think, Something adventurous is going to happen today. The energy is operating at full throttle all the time. And if you want to be lucky you’ve got to go out and take advantage of it.

This is what I call the activist approach to life and luck. The more I do, the luckier I get. There's a new adventure awaiting. But it won't wait forever. So go for it.

Brokaw has a new book out on all this. It's called A Lucky Life Interrupted: A Memoir of Hope. Check it out. It may spark something adventurous.

Go-Givers Beat Go-Getters

Marc Lore, an entrepreneur and co-founder, Chief Executive Officer, and chairman of Jet.com, an e-commerce startup meant to challenge Amazon, recently wrote this:

At 22, I evaluated my first job based on what I could get out of it. But I have since learned that you can achieve much greater success if you focus on what you can give. Ultimately, I have realized that success is not a measure of your salary, title, or degree, but the impact you have on others and the collective happiness of the people you touch.

I've been lucky to have that attitude throughout my whole career. When I went to graduate school in religious studies and philosophy, it never even occurred to me to ask anyone how much careers in those fields paid. And it's a good thing I didn't! When I hit the job market with a double PhD from Yale in 1980, starting salaries for professors were ridiculously small. My children wore hand-me-down clothes from other professors' kids, who had done the same thing. We were in it to give, not to get. I wanted to tackle the big questions, and come up with new insights I could benefit from myself, and then give to other people. I learned in those years the power of giving.

Now, we're all learning it, through new research, as well as in our broader cultural experiences. In the book Give and Take, Wharton professor Adam Grant does a great job of showing how givers can prosper exceptionally well in the long run and actually become the most satisfied receivers of all.

In everything we approach, we should ask what we can give, first and foremost. Then, we may be amazed at what we can get, as a result. It's not the motivation, but the wonderful side effect, that those who give most prosper most deeply.

The Four Foundations of Greatness

Years ago, I did a book called If Aristotle Ran General Motors: The New Soul of Business. It could have been called "Happiness, Fulfillment, and Greatness." It's all about the most deeply human factor in our work and lives - what brings people together, makes for superior teams, real loyalty, and great results? My claim in the book is that from the moment we wake up in the morning, to the instant we fall asleep at night, we experience the world along four dimensions and need four things to satisfy us:

1. The Intellectual Dimension, that aims at Truth

2. The Aesthetic Dimension, that aims at Beauty

3. The Moral Dimension, that aims at Goodness

4. The Spiritual Dimension, that aims at Unity.

For great relationships, great teams, unshakable associate loyalty and real customer love, we need to live and work in accordance with these four things - Truth, Beauty, Goodness, and Unity. We need to respect everyone's need for these things, and nurture them as much as we can. Whenever we depart from one of these things, these great ideals that the Greeks knew as transcendentals (transcending and applying to everything in life), we suffer diminishment. When we cultivate them, we can experience extraordinary levels of success.

And each of them needs to be respected and lived in connection with the other three. That's where the real power is to be found.

I got to speak on this topic in Orlando this week, and it was so much fun! For more details on the ideas, go check out the book!

Richard Branson on Second Chances

A number of CEOs and prominent individuals in the culture were recently asked what advice they would give their 22 year old selves, if that were possible. Richard Branson, the founder of The Virgin Group, said something very interesting about how we view ourselves and others - and, especially, how we react to the mistakes that other people have made in their lives. He wrote, at his present age of 64:

I am not the person I was 42 years ago. I am not even the person I was two years ago. We all change, we all learn, we all grow. To continually punish somebody for the mistakes they made in the past is not just illogical, it is plain wrong. 

He advises his early self, and any of us who will listen, to be a person who embraces the possibility of change, both in yourself and in others. He says:

We all deserve a second chance. Next time you have the opportunity to give somebody their second chance, don't think twice.

I know I've needed second chances, and sometimes more chances than that. Maybe you have, too. It's good to remember this when we consider our attitudes toward others. When we give people the chance to change and grow and improve, we enable ourselves to benefit from what can result in their lives, so that our mercy, forgiveness, and even embrace of them can enhance our own lives as well as theirs.

Here's to second chances! And more. And to Richard Branson's bit of life wisdom.

Friendship and Forgiveness

Today, I came across some statements from the poet David Whyte that I want to share. In his new book Consolations, he writes this about one of our most important ongoing experiences in life:

Friendship is a mirror to presence and a testament to forgiveness. Friendship not only helps us see ourselves through another’s eyes, but can be sustained over the years only with someone who has repeatedly forgiven us for our trespasses as we must find it in ourselves to forgive them in turn. A friend knows our difficulties and shadows and remains in sight, a companion to our vulnerabilities more than our triumphs, when we are under the strange illusion we do not need them. An undercurrent of real friendship is a blessing exactly because its elemental form is rediscovered again and again through understanding and mercy. All friendships of any length are based on a continued, mutual forgiveness. Without tolerance and mercy all friendships die.

That's a beautiful characterization of an immensely valuable thing in life, whose importance we easily forget. And I want to give you one more passage, because of the deeply wise advice it provides:

To remain friends we must know the other and their difficulties and even their sins and encourage the best in them, not through critique but through addressing the better part of them, the leading creative edge of their incarnation, thus subtly discouraging what makes them smaller, less generous, less of themselves.

Real friends help each other grow. We help our friends best when we encourage the best in them. Sometimes, yes, we need to point out a flaw with that honesty that only true friendship will muster. And it can be effective, when given and received in the right spirit. But more often, we help our friends most by encouraging them to be their best selves, through genuine praise and reinforcement. 

Life is a team sport. Great friends make for great teams.

Where Are The Philosophers?

On Sunday, the New York Times Columnist David Brooks wrote an essay from the midst of his book tour called "What is Your Purpose?" He begins the piece by reminding us that there were times in this country, and around various parts of the world, when wisdom seemed to be readily available. A theologian or philosopher could appear on the cover of a major news magazine. The top publishers put out books that helped us reflect more deeply on our lives. The morning talk shows were visited regularly by psychologists, economists, historians, astronomers, serious novelists, and, yes, an occasional philosopher. Even late night TV surprised us now and then with a real thinker. I remember as a child enjoying the Cornell University astronomer Carl Sagan on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.

In my own career, I've had the opportunity, many years back, to talk philosophy with Regis Philbin, at the height of popularity for his morning show (now Kelly's show), with Matt Lauer, on the NBC Today Show, on CNN, CNBC, and NPR's Talk of the Nation and Morning Edition. But that hasn't happened in a while, for me or any other philosopher I know of. It's not what the programming people are looking for, these days. We've left the big life issues out of the public square, squeezing them to the margins of the culture. And we wonder why we're feeling adrift.

I'm old enough to remember the golden days of TV talk shows like Donahue, and the early days of Oprah, when there were always intellectually challenging guests grabbing my attention, and helping me to think about some new, or old, topic that was relevant to my life. But then other shows came around where people yelled at each other and threw chairs, and the carnival had then come to town to stay.

I've almost come to believe that a superficial entertainment culture is just a subtle form of nihilism. People despair of meaning and purpose, and so, as Pascal said in the seventeenth century, they find diversions to keep from thinking about the deeper issues of life, death, and meaning. But when we engage these things, we can make great progress. We can actually get our bearings in the world. And we can change our lives.

I've got no problem with "Keeping Up With The Kardashians." When I go into the gym, and enter the back room where the really heavy lifting happens, I often turn the channel to E! to see what my favorite celeb family is doing. But the ancients had a principle that's deep and telling. I like to call it "The Functionality Rule": The value of nearly anything in our lives is dependent on how we use it. Entertainment is fine, as long as it functions in a positive and limited role. Our work, and other recreations can be even more fun than catching up on your favorite Bravo show, or watching the finale of The Voice.

David Brooks reminds us that in a cultural vacuum of reflection on real life issues - the proper territory of philosophy at its best - we all suffer. We have no great guidance on the big issues that loom in our lives and that people have confronted forever. My role model for being a public philosopher is Ralph Waldo Emerson, 150 years ago. I have to go that far back to find someone outside the university system bringing philosophy into people's lives where they live and work. We need to turn this around. Of course, early in the twentieth century, we had William James and John Dewey, and then later the existentialists and the ever irascible Bertrand Russell came along. Even the even more irritated Mortimer J. Adler made a splash in his time. I remember when it was a big thing, in all the papers, when theologian Hans Kung would publish his latest big book on God. It was almost like a Harry Potter publication day, but for everyday intellectuals. 

We need to bring back the wisdom. Where are the philosophers? Let's go find them. It can greatly help in our work and our lives.

Diane von Furstenberg on Clarity

For 25 years, I've spoken on what the great philosophers realized about attaining success in anything we do. Long ago, I isolated seven universal conditions for success. The first two are:

1. A clear CONCEPTION of what we want, a vivid vision, a goal clearly imagined,

2. A strong CONFIDENCE that we can attain the goal.

In this week's Sunday Business Section of the New York Times, Adam Bryant did his great "Corner Office" interview with fashion legend Diane von Furstenberg. I've referred to it earlier this week. Let me share one more question and answer here:

Q: How do you get the best work out of creative teams on your staff?

A: I think the most important thing is to believe in what you do. And identifying a goal, to have clarity, is very important. You cannot fake clarity. When you don’t have clarity, you don’t. And then all of a sudden, the fog lifts and you’re clear. It’s very important to constantly try to look for clarity, like pruning a tree or cleaning the plumbing.

DVF starts with condition #2 and quickly backs it up with condition #1.

I've found that a lot of CEOs take for granted that everyone around them is clear on their corporate goals, while fog is actually enveloping everyone on the ground. We can't just assume that our own clarity has been communicated well. And sometimes, we find that we ourselves aren't as clear as we need to be. We allow general vague slogans with feel good language to substitute for rigorous clear thought. And that's always a problem. We need to heed the fashion mogul's words. In any pursuit, Confidence and Clarity are needed. And they'll never go out of fashion.

For a video related to the interview with DVF, click here.

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.

What an Idiot!

The country club swimming pool not far from my home is a great social place where neighbors visit and watch their kids frolic in the water, when they're not themselves swimming laps, or just lounging about in the water, often with a drink and a story or two. Last year, I had an interesting experience there. In the pool house locker room for gentlemen, I noticed one day that someone had left dark blue swimming trunks hung on a hook outside the showers. No big deal. But the next day, they were still there, and the next, and the next. One day I said to myself, "Who leaves swimming trunks hanging here and doesn't even know they're missing?" The next day, same thing. I shook my head. 

I think I had to travel for a few days, or maybe a week, to give some talks around the country, and when I got home, I decided to go back to the pool for a little exercise. Walking into the locker room, I couldn't help but notice - there were the same swimming trunks in the same place as before. I thought, "Really?" And, well, to make a long story short, my sightings of the shorts continued pretty much daily on through the summer. As the weeks passed, the blue bathing suit, as we say, stayed on the hook, like a flag flying in honor of missing items everywhere. "But who would use this locker room once, and forget his shorts, and never come back to get them?" I was puzzled. Most people who used the facility did so as often as I did, or nearly as often. Who would not notice their shorts hung up alone on this hook?

I told my wife the tale of the swim shorts, and some of the people working at the Sports Center complex that contains the pool. I'd regale them with the story of the forgetful idiot who loses his pants. I'd make it funny. We'd all laugh. And I'd still feel perplexed. 

By the end of the summer, I remember walking into the pool house, seeing the now very familiar trunks once again, and saying to myself "I really do wonder who the idiot is who still doesn't realize he's missing these?" And then for reasons unknown to me, I walked over and looked more closely.

It took me a second before I had a stunning realization and said to myself, now this time out loud, "Oh. I'm the idiot."

And, yeah, the moral of the story is just a little too obvious. So, fellow physicians, join me and let's heal ourselves.

Life's Lemons

Ten years ago, I realized I knew a lot of people who had trouble dealing with change in their lives. I would get asked over and over, "What do you do when bad things happen, or disappointing things, unexpected and difficult things?" People wanted strategies for handling challenges in their lives.

I had grown up hearing the old adage, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade," which pretty much sums up the attitude of the ancient stoic philosophers toward the problem, but in my childhood no one who repeated these words also explained how to do it. How do you turn lemons into lemonade? So I got to work, reading all the great thinkers on the topic, and writing my own book of advice. It was called "Lemonade!" Then I changed the name to "Lemons to Lemonade" and after 24 total re-writes, it became "Plato's Lemonade Stand: Stirring Change into Something Great." Previous versions have been turned down by publishers 45 times, because they're not convinced that a practical book about the personal alchemy needed to turn something sour into something sweet will sell. I'm convinced they're wrong. And whenever I've done the ideas on retreats, people have insisted on having the book available. No one has seen the newest version yet. And I really, really like it. But I'm prepared for more lemonade making before someone in the world of publishing says, "Wait. People need this."

In the Sunday Business Section of the New York Times, Adam Bryant had a very interesting interview with the fashion designer and design mogul Diane von Furstenberg. Let me give you one Q&A:

Q. You’ve said many times that your mother was your biggest influence. What are the most important lessons you learned from her?

A. My mother was a Holocaust survivor and, having survived 13 months in the concentration camps, she taught me that fear is not an option. And no matter what happens, never be a victim. Life is a journey, and when you face obstacles the only thing you can do is accept them and embrace the reality. Very often, with things that are bad or not what you wanted, it’s your job to turn them into something positive.

I love the sentiment about accepting obstacles. Maybe the things that block your path can be taken up and assembled into just the bridge you need. That last sentence of the answer says it all:

Very often, with things that are bad or not what you wanted, it’s your job to turn them into something positive.

That's one of the enduring themes of the practical philosophers. And it's become something I believe deeply. So, when you face your next challenge, difficulty, or disappointment, get out a paring knife, some sugar, ample ice, and whatever additional spices you think you'll like, and make from the lemons that confront you some world class lemonade. Plato would have wanted it.

Your Money Or Your Life

Decades ago, the famous television comedian Jack Benny did a routine that played off his reputation as being a cheapskate. In the sketch, a robber came up to him with a gun and demanded "Your money or your life!" Benny just stood there, silent, staring into space. The robber said something like "Come one! What'll it be?" And Benny replied with frustration, "I'm thinking. I'm thinking."

Let me ask you a question. Why do you do what you do? Is your goal in life to make as much money as possible? Maybe that's not a realistic aim in your current job. But is it a dream? Many people tell me that they indeed fantasize about "The Number" - the amount of money they'd have to make and save in order to just stop working and enjoy themselves lavishly for the rest of their lives. The fantasy is one of immense wealth and all its trappings. So they start a company, or play the lottery, whichever path their circumstances seem to allow. Some people work almost all the time, in pursuit of that number. They'll do whatever it takes. They'll pay any price.

But do a thought experiment with me. Suppose you came across a wise person with the ability to see the future. Imagine that she's always right. She has an unblemished track record. She could see what is to be, and also what would be if you were to keep on your current path. Imagine then that you shared with her a dream of riches and she said to you, "You can be wealthy beyond imagining, if you choose, but you will be miserably unhappy if you take that path." Let's say you asked for clarification. She replies, "Chase money, and you'll be wretched. Pursue a greater purpose and you'll find happiness."

How would you react? Would you doubt her words? Or would you heed them? 

Many people replicate the Jack Benny skit in their lives. The guy with the gun is just pointing out the choice they face. Will they give up their entire lives just to get as much money as possible? Or will they give up some money for the sake of a life?

I attended a meeting the other day where my friend Matt Ham spoke to a real estate company on the topic of his new book, Redefine Rich. His presentation was about how to define riches in a way that will be deeply satisfying, and and that will lead you to pursue all the right things, so that the treasure you attain will be something that no one can take away. There is no amount of money that's forbidden to a wise person, as Thales in the ancient world demonstrated. But there are ways of living that are. When we understand that, we truly prosper. 

Should You Study Philosophy?

A couple of weeks ago, the New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristol wrote an essay in praise of the humanities, entitled "Starving for Wisdom." In it, he argued vigorously in favor of college students taking serious courses in philosophy, literature, history, and the other humanities and arts. In prose reminiscent of C. P. Snow's famous book, The Two Cultures, he showed ways in which we need both the sciences and humanities in our educations.

The comments the piece generated were telling. Angry fathers wrote that a humanities degree wouldn't get their kids a good job. Barely literate rejoinders suggested that such frivolity is a luxury for the elite who come from vast wealth, and can't be indulged in by students who have had to borrow the money for an education.

I found myself worried about both the negative comments and many of the positive ones, endorsing a study of the humanities. Whether college coursework in the humanities is worthwhile or not ultimately turns on a principle you learn while studying the humanities - a view from ancient Greece and Rome that the value of most things in this world depends on how they function in our lives. Will a college course in philosophy elevate a student and bring practical wisdom, or will it deprive him of a vocational boost that he could have gotten from one more course in business, or engineering? It all depends on the way in which the course was taught and the way in which the subject was studied. Both the professor and the student have the chance to ruin their time together by their choices along the way. But if each is performing masterfully well in his or her own respective capacities, magic can happen.

It may surprise you to learn that, as a philosopher, I don't go around recommending that people take philosophy courses or read philosophy books - except for mine, I should quickly add. The wrong courses and books can be an absurdly monumental waste of time. But the right courses and books can be life changing. It took me years to learn how to tell the difference.

There is a game that academics learn to play, and play well. Professors in the humanities are typically smart enough to discern what will get them promoted and tenured, and even intellectually esteemed by those who work in their field. That doesn't necessarily translate into writing or teaching on issues of general life significance and value. But those who focus on the right issues and take penetratingly wise approaches to those issues can confer on their students advantages in work and life that are impossible to replicate in any other way.

Great philosophy confers great advantages. And the same is true of work in any of the humanities, which is not just an area of study for college, but for life.

That's why I often recommend to people what great books they may want to read. Books can be great for different reasons, and not all of those reasons relate directly to a life well lived or work extraordinarily done. The right books, though, can make all the difference for cultivating personal wisdom and guiding professional success. When you do it right, there is no study worth more than work in the humanities.

True Grit

Looking back over my life so far, I've noticed an interesting quality, which is, actually, a firm tendency.

Knock me down, and I'll get back up. Knock me out and I'll wake back up. I stay in the game, regardless. I have what seems to be an innate drive never to give up, even on goals that look impossible and things that seem hopeless. Maybe I'm just trying to live up to my middle name. Victor.

My first book was turned down 36 times. At rejection number 20, I guess some people would give up. I couldn't. I've had another book "passed over" by editors 45 times. Ditto. That's part of the reason I've had over twenty books published. If I have something to say, I'm going to say it.

When I was a professor at Notre Dame, I would often suggest something very new to the administration. As a result, I typically heard the words, "Well, there's a problem with that." I would always respond, "That's fine, I'm a problem solver. What can we do about it?"

There are many psychologists now deeming this to be the most important quality for success. They call it grit. I'm glad I have it it. And maybe it's no surprise. Nearly every morning of my southern childhood, I grew up eating grits. And at least one remains. And it's a big one. Grit. Determination. Persistence. Heart. Consistency through trouble, disappointment, and "No."

Is it a form of optimism? Often, yes it is. But really, it can even be independent of any confidence that I will in the end prevail in a certain project or aim. I'm going to keep going whether I win or not. Shut down the arena, turn out the lights, and I'll probably still be at it. Stubbornness may indeed be a close cousin to this drive.

When you're passionate about what you're doing, when you're a true believer in the task, then giving up seems dishonorable, disloyal, and maybe, at times, a disgrace. We may not be in this world always to succeed, but it seems to me that we're here to persist. That doesn't mean that you can't change tactics, adjust a goal as you learn, and perhaps go at the whole thing in a new way. It just means you never fold accept defeat. Any failure along the way is a step, an opportunity to learn, a moment to rest on the canvas before your next charge.

If the game is not worth the effort, then you're in the wrong game.

When I was in high school, I had long-distance friends in Chicago who liked to make fun of my North Carolina accent, but not nearly as much as they enjoyed mocking me for my love of grits. One of the greatest days of my life was when I was able to present them with a large container of  standard Quaker Grits, turn over the cylindrical box, and show them on the back the words 'Made in Chicago.'

Where is real grit made? In your heart. In your soul. And if you don't feel you have it, you can cultivate it. You can create it. You just have to find a way to be passionate about what you're doing, to care with all your heart. Commencement speakers are criticized this days for advising graduates to "Do what you love," as if that's a luxury available only to the very few. But anyone can be advised to "Love what you do." Because there's always a way. By nature, we are all discoverers of meaning. But most of all, we're makers of meaning. When what you're doing, or seeking, or chasing is meaningful to you, there's an extra resilience in your soul, a flexibility and strength that we all need for tough jobs, and worthwhile achievements. And that's true grit.