What If vs. What If

 

 

The absolutely best, most creative question ever asked is:  “What if?”

This little question has generated countless books, movies and plays.  What if a Danish prince discovers that his mother’s new husband is his father’s murderer?  What if a young girl falls down a rabbit hole and finds another world?  What if boy meets girl, boy loses girl and then boy finds girl again?

“What if?” has also spawned greatness in other ways.  Like peach salsa.  Like penicillin.  Like new roses. Like Impressionist paintings. Like iPads.

And yet at the very same time “what if?” is our biggest stumbling block to success.

“What if I make a mistake?”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“What if it’s not really possible?”

“What if I’m wrong?”

The stewing and fretting so many of us devote to the potentiality of every single possible “what if?” scenario keeps us completely stuck.

“What if?” we ask.  “What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if? What if?”

Exhausting.

Yet the irony is, like the proverbial two-edged sword, it’s only by asking “what if?” that we can be free to move forward.

What if you don’t like it?  Well, what if you do?  You will never know until you try, so why not just try?

What if you fail?  Well, have you failed before?  Bet you have. I sure have – recently.  And, look: you and I are still above ground and breathing, so that means we are probably stronger and more resilient than we give ourselves credit for.  Failure proves it.

What if it’s not really possible?  Or if you’re wrong?  Well, then, at least you have collected data which shows you what’s not going to work.  Which only makes it more possible for you to figure out what will work.

Pollyanna-ish?  Unrealistic?  Are you thinking that perhaps I don’t understand the stakes involved?  How pressured your situation is?  How overwhelmed you are?

Oh, I understand quite well.  Believe me.  

I hear it every day. And lived it myself.

But there’s one thing I know.  You can make it easier on yourself by simply choosing to use the creative “what if?” rather than the limiting “what if?”

That’s all.  Once choice.  One little choice to come at your overwhelm and pressure and deadlines and stuff from a slightly different angle.

And create something wonderful.

 

Trial & No Error




I happen to love Wednesdays. Once upon a time, “Wednesday” meant “25 cent beer night at Phi Kap’s” – a fond memory, believe me.  But now, in the fullness of time, Wednesdays no longer equate to fraternity party excess.

[Well, not that often.]

Wednesdays have become the day when I work with members of The Club, my affordable coaching program.  Each Wednesday, members get a sharp, focused one-on-one 20 minute coaching session – and, boy, do we get work done.  It’s wonderful.  And during the course of last week’s laser coaching appointments, I realized that there was a common theme emerging.  A theme around perfectionism.

It seems that many of us want to be absolutely perfect right out of the gate.

The website copy must be perfect.

The presentation must be flawless.

The vacation must be life-changing.

The relationship must be relentlessly connected, joyful, energizing and sexy.

No room for errors, mistakes, illness or personal preferences (especially those of other people).  Not enough time. The stakes are way too high. Which, of course, made me write myself a note: “What ever happened to trial and error?”

Trial and error is a beautiful thing! Trial and error opens the mind – why the result could be anything!  I could be surprised.  Elated! I could be disappointed, sure – but, regardless, I will absolutely learn something fascinating. Something that will make my next try more successful.

That’s the reason trial and error underlies the scientific process.  Frankly, I am thrilled that some guys kept looking at blue mold on bread and working it, working it, until there was a successful outcome – penicillin.

I am happy that the guy who goofed up making a new glue decided to see what it would do on paper before the threw the whole batch into the trash.  What would you do without Post-It Notes?

It pleases me to think that right now, out there somewhere, someone is testing what blueberries and spinach would taste like in salsa. Talk about creativity!

Perfectionism absolutely kills this kind of creativity.

Perfectionism prevents exploring – “what if it’s the wrong direction! What happens then? What if I make a mistake? Better just stick to the tried and true. Must not fail.” So to protect yourself against failure, you squash your curiosity, and creativity falls aside. And you learn nothing.

Because you only discover when you explore.

Not to mention the waiting. Good golly, Miss Molly, but perfectionism often requires waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting. So many people wait until the perfect pops out, fully developed and well-formed. Indisputably astounding. Making observers say, “Wow!”

This, darlings, is a happy dream. A happy dream which, I will admit, has never happened to me or anyone I know in real life. The best stuff has come with focus, over time, with smart trial and plenty of errors.

Perhaps people seek perfection as an insurance policy so they can’t be told they’re wrong when they put their stuff out there.

But I have better insurance: When I’m using trial and error, I’m not “wrong” – I’m just not “right”… yet.

I am, however, happily on the road bound there. Doing stuff. Creating. Filing errors under “learning” so my next attempt will be even better.

Michele’s Feast



I’ve decided that there are no coincidences – only opportunities for me to open up and learn.

Last night I found myself with unexpected time to myself. I’m sure all you single parents of teenagers understand exactly what I’m talking about. I had no plans but was utterly delighted with having no plans. My blog post was written, my to-dos all done, my day complete. I happily whipped up an egg salad sandwich and paired it with a cold glass of pinot grigio (an odd but inspired summer combo, if I do say so myself) and parked myself on the couch, remote in hand, intent on finding a movie to watch.

A movie that I picked. Me. For me. No compromising on comedy when I wanted drama.  No action when I wanted love.  It could be anything I wanted. Anything.

Ah, the delicious freedom.

There were hundreds of free options. Feeling all giddy, I only perused high definition films. Ha! Still hundreds to choose from. Then I stopped. “Babette’s Feast.” I had seen it.  Hadn’t I liked it?  It was free, so I thought, “Oh, I’ll just watch a little and if it’s awful I’ll watch something else!” [imagine the power!]

Darlings, in just a few moments, Babette’s Feast became Michele’s Feast. I was utterly drawn in.

Do you know the movie? Based on a story by Karen Blixen, the Danish writer also known as Isak Dinesen, the film follows the two daughters of an austere pastor as they deny themselves joy, love, pleasure and opportunity in order to support the work of their father. Over time, they quietly become old women, living together in rigid self-denial, keeping the memory of their father alive.

Into their lives blows Babette, a refuge from political upheaval in France. For fourteen years, Babette lives with the sisters, caring for them and for their small fishing community, mirroring their simple, unadorned life, until one day she wins the French lottery – 10,000 francs – and asks if she can prepare a real French dinner in honor of the deceased pastor’s 100th birthday.

Here’s where it gets really good.

After fourteen years of cautious living, Babette pours her heart and soul into the meal. She carefully obtains fresh fruits, exotic meats, fine wines, exquisite cheeses. She prepares the feast with care, with joy, with creativity, with expertise.

And when the meal is served, the reserved, anti-sensual, closed up, bitter, sniping guests become transformed – they actually taste their food. They enlarge their senses. They are drawn together.  They find that they love one another, and themselves.

The meal is a triumph.

And Babette is broke, having spent her entire lottery winnings on the meal.

When one of the sisters laments that Babette will now spend the rest of her life poor, Babette replies, “An artist is never poor.”

Got me right there.  An artist is never, never poor.

Then, Babette reveals that she had been head chef at a remarkable Paris restaurant, shrugs and says, “I was able to make them happy when I gave of my very best.”

Not only did Babette make others happy – she made herself happy when she gave of her amazing gifts. But wait – Babette’s final words in the film: “Throughout the world sounds one long cry from the heart of the artist – ‘Give me the chance to do my very best.’”

It’s no coincidence that I watched this film last night, because I needed a reminder that my best is all I want to do. My very best. As a woman, as a mother, as a coach, as a creator, and, yes, as an artist.

You, too, are an artist like Babette – even if you aren’t conscious of your creative power. Every day you have the chance to do your very best. Every day you have the power to live via your senses.  Every day you have the opportunity to create something new. Every day you can serve others with your creativity.   Every day. Remember that.

And, you artist, you – remember that the true richness in life is truly and utterly your own creation.


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The Art of Being Lazy


All art requires practice, and patience. Art requires the proper setting, too. And there is no better setting to perfect the art of being lazy than summer.

Being truly lazy seems a lost art in our time of instant messaging, instant gratification — instant everything. We enjoy so many luxuries, except the luxury of time, which is precisely what the lazy state of being requires.

Summer beckons us away from the hustle and bustle and toward laziness. To laze about on a summer Sunday means to recharge batteries. To reconnect with other lazy souls. To rest. To think. To meander. To lollygag. To accomplish much, while accomplishing nothing of any great purpose.

And that’s the point — to have no apparent point. We spend so much of our working days striving. Summer laziness allows us to deposit that baggage at the door and really relax.

What’s funny to me is the number of people who chastise themselves for being “lazy”, yet when asked what they’ve accomplished today, they can tick off ten or twenty things. They don’t see lazy as an art, but as a notion anathema to productive living.

But here’s the deal: the art of being lazy is just as creative as any other art. While you’re being “lazy”, you are allowing your fertile mind to grow and bloom. You are creating something new. A new you.

Lazy is taking a walk — not to get the aerobic workout, but to look at the flowers. Lazy is taking the time to read a book the whole way through — in one sitting. Lazy is a catnap — without giving a hoot about the chores waiting. Lazy is a two hour talk with your teenager about nothing at all, and everything in the world.

Lazy is loving yourself enough to let go of the need to impress and achieve long enough to really and truly relax and recharge.

Being lazy is an art and I mean to be an accomplished practitioner this summer. Will you join me?

Mistakes Were Made


Can you imagine a world without Post-It Notes? Well, you almost didn’t have them… the adhesive used to make sticky notes sticky was a total mistake. In 1968, inventor Spence Silver was tinkering with adhesives and developed something quite unusual. According to the 3M website, Dr. Silver tried to get 3M brass to champion the new glue for five years. But it took Art Fry, a visionary at the company, to see the practical use — he made a bookmark for his choir hymnal, and the purpose of the adhesive became clear. Post-It Notes were rolled out in 1980 and have become a great American product.

If our scientist-hero had been a perfectionist, he might have thrown out that batch of adhesive because he’d made a “mistake”. Fortunately, Dr. Silver took the time to learn from his mistake — and to see if he could do something with it.

Learning from mistakes. Something we’ve been taught all our lives, huh? But how many of us really do it? Seems like what we actually do is orient our lives so we don’t make mistakes. We so control and prepare and plan that we allow no room for mistakes. No room for the creativity mistakes inspire. No room, then, for serendipity.

I love serendipity. Serendipity can only happen when you allow yourself room for it — by first saying, “oops”. Think of the guy who first thought: “What if I put peaches in…salsa?” Or the guy who missed his flight and met his future spouse? Or the woman who took a wrong turn… and avoided an accident. Or the scientist who screwed up a batch of glue, and became a millionaire?

Tightly controlling all aspects of our lives may help us feel safe, and unchallenged… but at what cost? We set up an impossible standard to live by — perfection — and then deal with the stress of not being able to meet “perfect” very often.

I’m face-to-face with my shortcomings everytime I’m on a golf course. Did you know that less that one half of one percent of all amateur golfers actually make par on every hole in a single round of golf? Yet, every golf course in the world is set up for the perfect player. The vast majority of golfers are far from perfect, and they keep on playing. How do they do it? Many golf instructors suggest golfers establish their own par for a hole: “I usually score six here, so if I do better than that, great!”

If you struggle with being perfect, think about setting your own “par”. How do you usually do this task? What’s good enough for you? Don’t worry about the guy in the next cubicle, or the gal next to you in line, or those insistent voice of your mother in your head… what’s your “par”? Shoot for your own par, make mistakes and leave room for serendipity. What will you create?