Snow, Man!

It’s days like today that make me miss the effortless green of June.

But then, in June, I miss the stark, slippery, calm snow.

Right now, all the snow has me feeling like a Snow Man.

The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

-Wallace Stevens

Your daily slice of irony (quote of the week)

“Write a wise saying and your name will live forever.”

-Anonymous

Pause for a second and enjoy the irony. 

Aside from appreciating the irony involved, I think the quote (and missing author) is especially precious because it encapsulates an important aspect of the human experience. 

Most of us are motivated by recognition.  We not only want to make a difference, we also crave recognition for our good work.  While joy comes directly from deeds, being recognized for them makes for a much, much, better experience.  Sadly, there is often a disconnect between the two.  I know I don’t express my gratitude/enjoyment/etc. as often as I could.  This quote is a reminder to spread the joy.  And not just out of duty or obligation. Providing recognition not only gives the person you are recognizing warm and fuzzy feelings, it also allows you to bask in their happiness (assuming you don’t suffer from excessive envy and schadenfreude).  Sheesh.  I might have to add this on to the list of new year’s resolutions as well.    Wish me luck.

Now that’s a good laugh!

I’ve been laughing a lot lately. The full-body, belly-shaking kind.

The kind of laughter that causes your soul to shine out from behind your eyes.

Thinking about laughter reminded me that it isn’t just a source of momentary pleasure. It also contributes to one’s health. I remember hearing about various studies that “proved” laughter is good for you, and decided to refresh my memory. It turns out that laughter:

• improves immune function (it increases a number of antibodies and activates T cells)
• protects your heart (if you laugh a lot, you’re less likely to have a heart attack)
• oxygenates your body
• increases lymph fluid circulation
• works your muscles
• decreases stress hormones
• reduces pain
• lowers blood pressure

So, I’m adding laughing more into my list of New Year’s Resolutions. Feel free to help me out with this one. It’ll probably be good for both of us. (I mean really – it’s free, good for you, and feels great. Other than sex, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. And I can laugh with anyone and anywhere, so it’s got that going for it.)

However, do keep it under control, because I also discovered that like so many other good things, laughter has a down side. It’s contagious. Seriously contagious!

In 1962, in the small village of Kashasha, Tanganyika (modern Tanzania), a group of students at a boarding school began to snicker following some remark or event which is now lost to history. For reasons unknown, the laughter was abnormally infectious, and soon the greater part of the student body was incapacitated with the contagious convulsions. In an effort to quell the inexplicable outbreak, administrators closed the school and sent the giggling students home, but this allowed the epidemic to spread. Parents, siblings, and neighbors were reduced to wriggling, vocalizing masses, and the Tanganyika Laughter Epidemic rapidly propagated to thousands of people including other schools, workplaces, and a neighboring village. The sporadic, uncontrollable episodes quickly became unpleasant for the sufferers, leading to abdominal pain, fainting, respiratory problems, rashes, and uncontrollable weeping; but it continued nonetheless. Reports vary regarding the duration of the epidemic– spanning anywhere from six to eighteen months– but over time it naturally faded. The underlying cause of the outbreak is still uncertain, but most historians and scientists attribute the bizarre incident to mass hysteria. The nation had won its independence from Great Britain only months prior, and the resulting increase in expectations among the citizenry was said to have produced unusually high levels of stress.

The excerpt above is from a blog posting, and you can find several reputable sources confirming the epidemic. It’s not Hamlet’s father’s ghost, but reading about it makes me echo Horatio: “O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!”

Gratitude and Concerts (Pela and Michael Bublé)

I recently saw my first truly great show at a small venue (huzzah for Schuba’s!). This isn’t meant to denigrate Okkerville River, Blue Merle, Phospherescent, LP, Pernice Brothers, Magnolia Electric Co., Destroyer, Sunset Rubdown, or any of the other bands I’ve seen over the past few years, but they just could not compare to Pela. Many thanks to the Johnson brothers for finding them, and to last.fm for keeping track of how many times Dane & Ryan listened to Pela. Pela is a lot of what is great about rock and roll. They remind me a bit of The National, but with a little more “pop” polish a la Bloc Party or U2. I think this must be one of the first tours they are headlining. They have all of the talent of a major band, and are still struggling to make it. This makes them hungry. And, because they are relatively obscure, it seems that they don’t often have good crowds to perform for. Not so in Chicago. Schuba’s was alive. After Pela’s first song, the energy was unbelievable. And, how could it not be? Billy McCarthy pours himself into his songs. You can feel it on the CD. You can see it in the sweat dripping off of him. After hearing that they are small town kids trying to make it big, you can’t help rooting for the band and enjoying the show even more. An introspective slow slong gives a pause, allowing us (and the band) to recharge before the next explosion of passion – leaping on speakers, breaking guitar strings, sweat spraying the stage. All this is going on four feet away. A somewhat intoxicated first cousin who can’t help beaming with pride shakes my hand. Pela’s energy infuses the crowd, the crowd energizes the band, and nobody wants it to stop. They don’t take our adulation lightly. They play every song on their lone full length album, plus nearly dozen more. After his guitar string breaks, Billy unplugs the guitar, and for whatever reason, hands it to me to hold as he goes to get another one. I hold on to it throughout the finale, impressed that the strap is drenched. I’m officially a fan for life.

In stark contrast to my $10 Pela show is Mr. Michael Bublé. Talk a bout a classy operation. He puts on a slick show. He’s the modern incarnation of Frank Sinatra. Seeing old footage of the “rat pack”, I never understood the screaming girls. I lumped it into the naiveté of a “simpler” time. I put it in the same category as getting married to your high school sweetheart, single income families, and belief that the government has your best interests at heart, and other rosy ideas that went out of fashion sometime during my grandparent’s youth. Well, ladies and gentleman, Michael Buble makes me understand – or rather, I’ve seen something similar in the 21^st century. He’s every bit as passionate as Pela’s McCarthy, but comes a much more sophisticated package. Black suit and tie, slick dance moves, a 15 piece jazz band, pure, pure, pure singing voice, keen sense of humor, unbelievable charm, and boyish good looks. All in all, your typical Canadian dream boat. I’m sure by now, you’re wondering what in God’s name I was doing at the show. I mean, it’s not like a have a girlfriend to impress these days. So, why would a straight, indie-rock loving male attend? Honestly, he’s good enough that seeing the performance would be reason enough. But in this case it was another reason. Gratitude, and the desire to bring joy to loved ones. A few years ago, I stumbled upon the following quotation by Cicero: “Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.” As with so many other things that I have learned from, I initially disagreed with the statement. I had never considered gratitude a “capital v” Virtue. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed true. While there are sure to be some virtues that are possible without gratitude (courage, perhaps), gratitude, to me, implies self-awareness, appreciating the good things in life, and a generally positive attitude. Life without gratitude seems bitter indeed, and it is hard to imagine virtue and arrogance/bitterness cohabitating with each other. I try to keep gratitude in my heart.

For many years, throughout my childhood, my grandparents served as an auxiliary set of parents. I spent a month living with them most summers. They would invariably schedule a vacation during that time and drag me all across the country with them. Many of my fondest childhood memories revolve around time spent with my grandparents. Playing cards, watching the cubs, playing miniature golf, swimming in lake Michigan, all surrounded by love. I am sure I would not be the person I am today without their steadying, loving, compassionate influence.

So, when an event comes up that allows me to share my gratitude, to share a perfect experience with the people that have given me so much, and that I treasure and adore, I do my best to take advantage of it. And what better to share with my grandparent’s a concert given by a man who reminds me of the seemingly romantic ideas of my grandparent’s youth? That night was one of those all too rare moments in life. It was brilliant music heightened by the sweet satisfaction arising from expressing gratitude and love. In short, it was perfect.

“You get what you tolerate.”

Last week at work was crazy busy; this week is not looking much better. However, last week was busy for a good reason. Management training. As you may or may not know, I’m now a de facto “manager”. De facto manager = all the responsibility, none of the perks. In fact, I think my cube shrank when I was “promoted”. Schweet! Er… yeah.

 

 Back to management training. A day and a half of listening and discussing. Things learned:

“You get what you tolerate” – if you figure out shortcuts and ways to manage around problems/people, you’ll have to continue to do it forever. I think this fits into my goal of “becoming more of an asshole”, or letting fewer things slide, both personally and professionally.

Being a good manager means your values and the way you look at time and productivity has to change. I’m good at efficiently getting things done. I’m not very good at delegating, or including others in discussions. I have to learn to include my managees in daily tasks (conference calls, email responses, etc.). I need to schedule more meetings to discuss our goals and spend time communicating rather than doing. They kept emphasizing that accomplishing things is a function of your technical aptitude and time spend providing direction. It was discussed as a multiplicative relationship (productivity = technical skills X personal communication). In my company, we are all technical experts, so that is (by in large) not the issue. It is the other part that is lacking. So, I have to focus on it. It’s quite challenging. But challenging is better than stagnating. Given the choice I’ll take difficult any day of the week. (Remind me of that when I complain about my job.)

Another interesting statistic mentioned is that 70% of the way your view your job/company is due to your relationship with your direct manager. They said people don’t quit companies, they quit managers. Initially, I didn’t agree that the percentage should be that high, but the more I look at it, it may well be.

We left the session being asked two questions: If not now, then when? If not you, then who?

Reminds me of one of my favorite recent quotes: “Delay is the enemy of success” – Lester Thurow