Cutting To The Chase

Two questions to ask if you really want to cut to the chase…

The first has to do with sales. Ask your potential customer person the following:

“Is there anything I can say or do that would get you to say yes to my offer?”

The second has to do with advice. If you seek it from someone (a trusted friend perhaps, and after you’ve downloaded your situation), ask them the following:

“If you were me, what would you do”

Chances are, you’ll get some powerful and clarifying responses to these questions. Just be open and non-defensive.

If you don’t, rest assured you’d never get them anyway. Now you know. Time to move on.

True Wisdom

Perhaps the reason you’re unwilling to step forward and take a stand or make your art, isn’t because you lack courage. Perhaps it’s because you lack wisdom. True wisdom. The kind that comes from experience and reflection and can withstand intense scrutiny.

But here’s the thing–as Socrates brilliantly once said–the more you know, the more you know that you don’t know.

If that’s the case, then you might as well step forward and do it anyway, right?

Because the only way you’ll ever gain any wisdom and subsequently any courage, is to just do it.

And then do it again.

And then do it again.

Each time proceeding with openness and a beginner’s mind. Secure in the true wisdom that you don’t know.

They Have To Experience It

For the director or coach or teacher (or parent)…

You can talk until you’re blue in the face, but until they directly experience it for themselves, your corrective talk is meaningless.

The greatest thing you can do is lead the person to a place where they can truly watch and see what they’re doing. No judgment from you or them. Just watching. You both participate together in the discovery. That’s how they’ll make the breakthrough they seek.

In his masterpiece, “The Inner Game Of Tennis”, author Timothy Gallwey describes a lesson with his student, Jack. Jack had struggled for years to improve his backhand. He went to many teachers and took many lessons.

Instead of instructing with words, Gallwey had Jack simply watch his backswing in a mirror, and describe to Gallwey what he saw. Without judgment and without castigating himself. Jack was surprised, almost childlike, by seeing that he was, in fact, taking his racket back too high. Then after making this discovery, Jack was able to instantly correct his stroke.

An excerpt from the book that describes this encounter…

I asked Jack to take a few swings on the patio where we were standing. His backswing started back very low, but then, sure enough, just before swinging forward it lifted to the level of his shoulder and swung down into the imagined ball. The five pros were right. I asked him to swing several more times without making any comment. “Isn’t that better?” he asked. “I tried to keep it low.” But each time just before swinging forward, his racket lifted; it was obvious that had he been hitting an actual ball, the underspin imparted by the downward swing would have caused it to sail out.

“Your backhand is all right,” I said reassuringly. “It’s just going through some changes. Why don’t you take a closer look at it.” We walked over to a large windowpane and there I asked him to swing again while watching his reflection. He did so, again taking his characteristic hitch at the back of his swing, but this time he was astounded. “Hey, I really do take my racket back high! It goes up above my shoulder!” There was no judgment in his voice; he was just reporting with amazement what his eyes had seen.

What surprised me was Jack’s surprise. Hadn’t he said that five pros had told him his racket was too high? I was certain that if I had told him the same thing after his first swing, he would have replied, “Yes, I know.” But what was now clear was that he didn’t really know, since no one is ever surprised at seeing something they already know. Despite all those lessons, he had never directly experienced his racket going back high. His mind had been so absorbed in the process of judgment and trying to change this “bad” stroke that he had never perceived the stroke itself.

Looking in the glass which mirrored his stroke as it was, Jack was able to keep his racket low quite effortlessly as he swung again. “That feels entirely different than any backhand I’ve ever swung,” he declared. By now he was swinging up and through the ball over and over again. Interestingly, he wasn’t congratulating himself for doing it right; he was simply absorbed in how different it felt.

After lunch I threw Jack a few balls and he was able to remember how the stroke felt and to repeat the action. This time he just felt where his racket was going, letting his sense of feel replace the visual image offered by the mirror. It was a new experience for him. Soon he was consistently hitting topspin backhands into the court with an effortlessness that made it appear this was his natural swing. In ten minutes he was feeling “in the groove,” and he paused to express his gratitude. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I’ve learned more in ten minutes from you than in twenty hours of lessons I’ve taken on my backhand.” I could feel something inside me begin to puff up as it absorbed these “good” words. At the same time, I didn’t know quite how to handle this lavish compliment, and found myself hemming and hawing, trying to come up with an appropriately modest reply. Then, for a moment, my mind turned off and I realized that I hadn’t given Jack a single instruction on his backhand! “But what did I teach you?” I asked. He was quiet for a full half-minute, trying to remember what I had told him. Finally he said, “I can’t remember your telling me anything! You were just there watching, and you got me watching myself closer than I ever had before. Instead of seeing what was wrong with my backhand, I just started observing, and improvement seemed to happen on its own. I’m not sure why, but I certainly learned a lot in a short period of time.” He had learned, but had he been “taught”? This question fascinated me.”

I can’t describe how good I felt at that moment, or why. Tears even began to come to my eyes. I had learned and he had learned, but there was no one there to take credit. There was only the glimmer of a realization that we were both participating in a wonderful process of natural learning. The key that unlocked Jack’s new backhand—which was really there all the time just waiting to be let out—was that in the instant he stopped trying to change his backhand, he saw it as it was. At first, with the aid of the mirror, he directly experienced his backswing. Without thinking or analyzing, he increased his awareness of that part of his swing. When the mind is free of any thought or judgment, it is still and acts like a mirror. Then and only then can we know things as they are.

Just Start And Complete Something

No doubt if you’re working on a passion project, there are a million ideas, tasks, and roads you can travel down. All of them have merit.

If you’re struggling to prioritize, pick one task–no matter how small or inconsequential you think it is–and complete it. Trust that in doing so, you will gain momentum and clarity to know exactly what to do next.

P.S. – This excellent Daily Stoic blog post.

Show Them Your Plan

If you seek affirmation about whether you should do the thing in your head…

Instead of just telling someone (ideally a trusted confidant) your idea, show them your plan. Your work plan. Your system for executing the idea. Complete with estimation of project length, action steps, arbitrary deadlines, budget, contingencies, and anticipated obstacles.

While the idea is fun to talk about, the work plan is the true mark of someone who’s serious.  Serious enough to be taken seriously. 

Center Down!

The mystic and the artist have this in common: they both notice more and feel things much deeper than the average person.

If you want to get in touch with the mystical, start by paying more attention to the everyday, quotidian moments in your life.

Author Lerita Coleman Brown in her book, What Makes You Come Alive writes this about the theologian and mystic, Howard Thurman (He was also Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s spiritual adviser):

As a seminary student walking home late one night, Thurman noticed the sound of water. He had taken this route many times, and he had never heard even a drip. The next day Thurman discussed his observations with one of his professors, who told him that a canal ran underneath the street. Because the noises of streetcars, automobiles, and passersby were absent late at night, Howard could discern the sound of water.

Noticing and listening is the first step towards presence. In his writings, Thurman constantly instructed us to quiet our minds and “center down.”

I’ll leave with you with this beautiful poem he wrote…

How Good To Center Down!by Howard Thurman

How good it is to center down!

To sit quietly and see one’s self pass by!

The streets of our minds seethe with endless traffic;

Our spirits resound with clashings, with noisy silences,

While something deep within hungers and thirsts for the still moment

    and the resting lull.

With full intensity we seek, ere the quiet passes, a fresh sense

    of order in our living;

A direction, a strong sure purpose that will structure our confusion

    and bring meaning in our chaos.

We look at ourselves in this waiting moment –

    the kinds of people we are.

The questions persist:  what are we doing with our lives? –

    what are the motives that order our days?

What is the end of our doings?

Where are we trying to go?

Where do we put the emphasis and where are our values focused?

For what end do we make sacrifices?

Where is my treasure and what do I love most in life?

What do I hate most in life and to what am I true?

Over and over the questions beat in upon the waiting moment.

As we listen, floating up through all the jangling echoes of our turbulence,

   there is a sound of another kind –

A deeper note which only the stillness of the heart makes clear.

It moves directly to the core of our being.  

Our questions are answered,

Our spirits refreshed, and we move back into the traffic of our daily round

With the peace of the Eternal in our step.

How good it is to center down!

Name Your Fear

One great takeaway from Steven Pressfield’s The War Of Art is that he names the blocked feeling we often experience when trying to make our art. Pressfield calls it “The Resistance.”

By naming it “The Resistance”, we now have a worthy adversary. Something concrete. Something we can battle.

For any fear, problem or obstacle you’re up against, see if you can give it an actual name. (It might also be helpful to associate an image with it in your mind.)

You can’t fight darkness in darkness. You’ve got to bring it into the light and see what you’re up against. Only then, can you can “go to war” with it.

The Fun Uncle Vs. The Parent

Multi-hyphenate artist Mark Duplass says that he relishes when he’s hired to “just be the actor” on a given project. He can focus on only one thing instead of several. He likens it to “being the fun uncle who comes over on a Saturday, plays with the kids and then gets to leave.”

When you’re not just the actor, but also the producer (or writer or director or all) on a project, you’re the parent. It’s a lot more work and a lot more responsibility.

But that’s okay. It’s worth it. Because when you step up to produce, you get to make what you’re passionate about. And if you’re also the actor, you get to play the role you’re dying to play.

Remember, with great responsibility, comes great power.

“Why Didn’t They Ask Me?”

It’s tempting to wonder (especially if you’re an actor) when you find out about a particular project or production that’s happening…

“Why Didn’t They Ask Me?”

A few things that might help before you go down a bad F.O.M.O road…

(1) Turn the question around. “Did YOU ever ask for it?” Remember, if you don’t ask, you don’t get.

(2) If you didn’t ask for it, then why not? Do you really want it? Or are you just connected to the IDEA of it? (If you’re not sure, then you can follow Derek Sivers advice which is…If it’s not a “Hell Yeah!”, then it’s a “No.”)

If you didn’t really want it, be grateful you weren’t asked. You didn’t have to disappoint someone by turning them down.

(3) If you really did want it and are a little bit jealous, that’s a good thing. You’re actually excited about something. Follow that jealousy. Get curious with it. A potential passion project lurks.

(4) Feel empowered. Remind yourself that while institutional validation or getting picked is nice, it isn’t necessary. You and a burning desire to make the art you’re passionate about are enough.

(5) Wish the project and participants well. A generous spirit is a beautiful thing.