A Generous Spirit

This week, I was going to write about Dan Pink’s new book about motivation, Drive.

Then, I also considered writing about Brigid Schulte’s article in The Washington Post, about a busy working mom’s search for leisure time.

I also thought about writing an arch, sassy essay on New Year’s Resolutions.

But I couldn’t write those posts. They seem so inconsequential.

Because I can’t get Haiti out of my mind.

The scope of the loss there is so hard to grasp. The only way I’ve been able to understand it is like this: It’s as if Land Shark Stadium in Miami, filled to the rafters for the Super Bowl, collapsed and suddenly every single person in the stadium – players, refs, fans, vendors, women selling programs, beer guys, security guards – died.

And as if every single car in the parking lot were filled with people who were hurt by falling debris from the stadium, had no gas, no food, no water, and no where to go.

And everyone in Miami suddenly had no power, no police, no firemen, no nothing.

Imagine if we began burying people in a mass grave in the middle of the football field.

That’s what Haiti is like.

And so much else feels insignificant.

Last Friday as I watched the news coverage out of Port-au-Prince,  I found myself feeling much the same way I did on September 11, 2001. I live four miles from the Pentagon, and I knew someone on that plane. I knew people who worked at the Pentagon, and a security guard who saved lives. Firefighters just down the street were among the first responders. I saw the smoke, I smelled the jet fuel, I saw the scorch marks. The loss felt so heavy.

One hundred and twenty five souls died that day at the Pentagon. Almost 3,000 people died in New York, Pennsylvania and DC as a result of the 9-11 attack. Our attention has been grabbed by other recent situations. Nearly 4,500 soldiers have died in Iraq since 2003.  Eight hundred and fifty in Afghanistan.  Six thousand five hundred people died from swine flu in 2009, worldwide.

All of these instances have received understandable media coverage.

But Haiti’s death toll is almost 1000 times that of the Pentagon. More than thirty times the losses of 9-11. Twenty times the soldiers lost in Iraq. Fifteen times that lost to swine flu.

It is so big.

So what can we do? We can, and have, given to charitable organizations who are on the ground in Haiti, delivering basic supplies, medical assistance and coordinating recovery efforts. In just a few days, $12 million has been generated in ten dollar increments for the American Red Cross by text messaging alone.

We are a generous people.

And catastrophes tend to bring us together, and bring out the best in us.

So I have an idea.

What if we could keep that generosity going? Certainly to Haiti as it rebuilds.

But also to Flint, Michigan, as it recovers.

And to Schenectady and Siler City. And to Des Moines and Danville.

And to Main Street and to your very own street.

Amid our personal concerns about our financial health and prospects for the future, what if we made a commitment to keep on being as generous in the future as we are right now?

What if, as a business owner, you hired someone and accepted a slightly smaller profit margin for yourself?

What if, as a homeowner, you hired someone to repair your roof rather than get up on a ladder?

What if, as a corporation, you added just one percent to your workforce?

What if, as a bank, you lent money to people who will use it to create opportunity for others through employment?

What if, as a society, we figuratively kept texting each other $10 each day?

Why, we’d change everything.

Always You

I have a theory. It’s that we are pretty much who we’re going to be at an early age. That’s not to say that life experiences don’t change us, or that we can’t undertake change on our own. Stuff happens, our perspectives shift and we change.

But if you’re born left-handed, you’re probably going to stay left-handed for life.

The Internet is an unparalleled way to reconnect. I got this in my Classmates.com in-box:

“I don’t know if you remember me from elementary [school], but I’ll never forget you. I remember nervously walking into the school for the first time after I moved there at the beginning of the 3rd grade. Mrs. W (who scared me to death!) was showing me where the classroom was located — it was early and hardly any kids had arrived yet. You walked up to me from the other end of the hall and struck up a conversation, and made me feel like I wasn’t an outsider. I don’t know if I ever thanked you, but I always appreciated that. You made my transition to a new school much easier.”

I have to tell you, this email rocked me. Families tell stories of our youth, but they usually involve — in my case — where I made a complete and total fool of myself by saying or doing something incredibly dopey.

To hear a tale of my past, from an outside, objective observer is like watching a documentary of my life. No spin, no role-playing — just a glimpse of who I was in third grade. Priceless.

And know what? I don’t remember the woman who wrote me (I do remember the evil and wicked Mrs. W, our teacher. Still get the shivers mentioning her name). But a year or so after the incident my correspondent described, my family moved two thousand miles away and I haven’t been back to that little town since. So in writing me she had no relationship to mend, heal or promote — she just had an open, grateful heart and a place to share. What a gift to me.

I’ve been spending a lot of time recently working with clients — and myself — on discovering strengths. I ask questions like: What do you do best? What do you really like? How can you play to your strengths? Because when you play to your strengths, whatever you do feels…easy. Not at all like work. Even, dare I say, fun?

Can you imagine what life would be like if you played to the inherent strengths you’ve had your whole life? Since you were in, oh, third grade? How effortless would that be?

So, what parts of your childhood personality remain? Who were you then — and who are you now? Understanding who you were — to others, to yourself — can illuminate and inspire your life today. Turn the light on, and uncover your own, innate, wonderful strengths. Then put those natural strengths to use, and craft a meaningful, purpose-filled… easy life.

Clinging To Money

So, you have two gold coins. They are the only gold coins you have in the whole wide world, so you hold them tightly in each fist. Then one day you actually meet the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow with his pot of gold.

He says to you, “Dip your hands in and you can keep as much gold as you can carry.” If you dip your hands in with your fists clenched, holding tightly to your two gold coins, how much gold can you scoop? Uh, none.

But if you open your hands, allowing those two gold coins to possibly slip out, how much gold can you scoop?

When you open your hands, you can hold so much more. When you close them tightly, there is no room for more than what you’ve already got.

I developed this little story to illustrate the “issues” many people have around money. Most of the time we cling to what we think money does for our status, and what we perceive money can do for us. I can’t tell you how many times a client will say, “I know I’m not happy in my job, but to do what I truly love I’d have to take a cut in pay!” Hmmmn. Perhaps. But doing what you love is, just like the commercial, priceless. And, remember this: do what you love, and the money will follow.

I was recently in a meeting when a man declared that his objective was to make $10,000 a day. Again, I thought, “Hmmmn.” Will $10,000 a day make you measurably happier than, say, $9,000 a day? Would you be even happier at $12,000 a day? Is there an end in sight, or will you always incrementalize your happiness – ‘til you get to the point where you can never make enough to be “happy”?

Can you tell me who’s got their gold coins grasped tightly in their fists?

I have the most wonderful CPA. His name is Stan Friedman, and I’ve worked with him for quite some time. Many years ago, Stan told me that he saw a direct correlation between how much clients give away and their income. When he told me that, I was intrigued and made an effort to look at how I allocated my money. And Stan was absolutely right.  The more I gave away, the more I got. The happier I got, the less I felt I needed. And still, more came to me. It’s nutty!

Don’t get me wrong. It’s better to have a dollar in your pocket than have none. Having been in both situations, I can personally testify to that statement. Being paid what you’re worth is affirming, and having financial integrity is fulfilling.

But, when you give yourself the freedom to be generous, the world opens up to you. Generosity begets abundance. Don’t take my word for it — give it a try.

Clinging tightly to an idea that money = happiness… limits you. It restricts your access to the underpinnings of true happiness, which are, simply, doing what you love and are good at. You can’t help but be rewarded for that, my friends.