Someday, when those guys finally retire...

I am very attuned to the cynicism around me. I wrote my doctoral dissertation on the subject. Unfortunately, it didn't reduce my cynical attitude, but I really, really, really understand it now. Big deal! I still contribute as much negative crap as everybody else; and more than many.

Many times we comment on how great things could be if only someone would retire, quit, die or something, such that things could change for the "better." It doesn't seem to matter which social layer is involved; people are perceived to be exercising their power in narrowly self-interested ways. Consequently, they stand to get what they want at expense of someone else. Their motives are suspect, making their actions less than honorable.

It is not uncommon to hear people refer to a "healthy dose of cynicism." What is that? What is healthy about suspicion with regard to the motivations of others? Anytime we get into the business of judging the motives of others, we tread on uncertain ground. It is true that there are people in the world who will take advantage of others given the chance. In fact, there are those who plan on doing just that. For the most part, however, people are not calculating ways to cheat others. Knowing their actions still does not tell us of their motives.

Just because you are not out to cheat me does not mean that our intentions and motives will blend harmoniously. We can still find ourselves butting heads over important issues. We can move ahead through some real communication, but that takes practice to do it well. Traditionally, we have been taught to engage in a debate-type of format - each presenting our arguments. The one with the most convincing argument wins. We argue over ideas - either mine or yours. If we could move to deeper levels, like purposes, we might be able to see that we are each interested in similar things, and that we just have different ideas about how to proceed.

There is a Mayan saying that goes something like this:

We didn't put our ideas together;
We put our purposes together.
We agreed.
Then we decided.

Understanding each others' purposes requires time and effort but promises a lot. Perhaps we should do less advocating for our ideas and do more listening to others.

One time, as I was preparing a workshop on some of this material, I was thinking about Max Planck's statement that has been paraphrased as "science proceeds one funeral at a time." That seemed to support the title of this blog entry - when someone dies, we will finally be able to move ahead. As I pondered that I was struck by what I later realized was the obvious question:

Who is waiting for me to die? 

I began to wonder about the positive changes that might occur in the world around me if I were not there to resist them. In all of my well-intended behavior, I am impeding some positive change in the world. Someone, either knowingly or not, is waiting for me to get out of the way so that something better can happen for them, or for the world.

Think about it...

Are we clear?

I was standing in line at In-and-Out Burger yesterday. The man in front of me was ordering for his wife and himself. He ordered a #3, which is a burger, fries and medium drink. Then he ordered a second batch of french fries and another drink.

The burger meister behind the counter began to read back the order to verify that he had gotten everything. He said, "That's a burger with (blah, blah, blah), two fries and," when the man interrupted to say, "no, I want one order of french fries. Doesn't the #3 come with fries?"

The burger meister said, "Yes, it does."

The man said, "That's what I thought, okay."

The burger meister then begins to repeat the order again, "Okay, that's a burger with (blah, blah, blah), two fries and," when the man interrupted to say, "no, I want one order of french fries. Didn't you just say that the the #3 comes with fries?"

This goes on for one more round as the burger meister is wondering if he is in the Twilight Zone; each time he patiently says, "Yes, it does." Watching this was like watching the famous Abbot and Costello comedy sketch, "Who's on first."

In the end both the burger meister and the man ordering reach a point where they just accept that the order will be whatever it would be. The man ordering did not understand that even though he ordered a #3, the burger meister was going to itemize the order without any reference to a "#3." Consequently, the man thought that he was getting a #3 AND two orders of fries.

I then placed my order and stood around waiting for the food to be prepared. The man who had the fries dilemma was waiting as well. I noticed that he was now studying his receipt. I assumed that he was pouring over it hoping to find that extra order of fries. I don't believe that he was finally clear until his receipt matched the food that he received.

Although this episode was mildly entertaining, while at the same time a little irritating, I wondered how many times this same thing happens every day. All it would have taken to help this situation was for one of the parties to ask for clarification. The burger meister could have explained that there were two fries total. The man could have asked if the "two fries" included those in the #3.

How many times do we fail to recognize that we need to stop the process and ask for clarification? Many times we forge ahead allowing our frustration and anger to build to the point where our emotions block productive action. The angrier we get the "righter" we believe we are in our position. We suffer under the delusion that the other person sees and understands the situation just as we do. Instead, there is often a significant difference in what we each bring to the situation.

Consequently, each party can end up thinking, "If this person would just wise up a little, we could solve this!" ODGeek believes that it just might be true. If each party had the capacity to step back for a moment, they could gain more insight and wise up - things could change.

Confess!!

Most people have some anxiety about doing something in front of others. For many this adds an "edge" to the situation, which improves the outcome. For others, that edge is virtually a cliff from which they fall time and again.

Most performers have stories about times on stage where they didn't feel that tingle of anxiety, and that night's performance was flat and lifeless. The edginess signifies that one is at the boundary of creativity - that something new is going to happen. Even though the performance has been executed countless times in the past, something new can happen each time. Without the edge, the performer and the audience experience a lifeless recreation of the past. With that creative edge, however, comes the possibility of failure, which is also part of the excitement.

A percussionist friend, we'll call him Stu for the purposes of this story, once told me about how much he admired another drummer's expertise and control. Stu talked about how the other drummer never seemed made a mistake in addition to doing things so well. Stu said that he, personally, always felt a little out of control when he played, and worried that at any moment he would lose it during performances. That would be very embarrassing for him.

Some weeks after that conversation, I happened to run into the drummer about whom my friend Stu had spoken so highly. I related Stu's compliments to him, which brought a funny smile to his face.

He said, "You know, I do know what I can play, AND what I can't play. I practice my chops so that I can exhibit that high level of control on stage. I don't like to mess up." I had seen him play and could attest to his abilities; he was tight and I had no doubt that he would play without mistake.

The drummer then went on to say, "Stu amazes me. He is such an edgy player. He takes chances on stage that I could never take. He is out there on the edge where he could lose it at any moment. I can't go there; I could never take the risk. Time and again I think 'this is the moment where he won't make it work,' and then he does it. I really admire him for that and wish that I could do it. But, my need for control is so great that I can't let myself get that close to potential failure."

Years later, a student once came to me for advice. He said that when he had to perform the skills that he had learned, that he would get all hot and sweaty. That would embarrass him and just make things worse. He was afraid to perform at all. He said that he thought others could tell that he was nervous and, consequently, would lose confidence in him, which only made matters worse. I told him to confess his anxiety to them. I told him how he could frame his story to them such that he didn't look like a cluck, but merely someone who wants to do a good job. He tried it, and the anxiety was instantly reduced to a very manageable level. He did a good job. Confession set him free.

At the Woodstock Rock Festival back in the late 1960s, Crosby, Stills and Nash were on stage to perform their new hit song "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes." It was already a massive hit in the U.S.. But there they were on stage before half a million people to play it live. At the end of his introductory remarks, Stephen Stills said to the audience something to the effect, "We've never played before a group this large; and we're scared shitless." Confession sets you free.

A year or so later, I was on stage before a group of 3000 people. I had never played or sung in front of so many people. As I stood there making my introductory remarks the words of Stephen Stills came to me. So, I said, "I haven't really done anything like this before, and I am pretty scared." I left out the "shitless" part. Everyone laughed; I was free.

After reflecting on this experience over the the years, I finally realized something: I stepped onto the stage to perform "in front of" those people. I was there for me. I wanted to make myself feel good by performing at a certain level. Confessing that I was scared changed that. I was telling them that what they thought was important to me. I was now performing "for them." I was bringing a gift with humility. The outcome was entertainment for them and a great level of satisfaction for me. Since I was not trying to hide my nervousness, I was free to direct that mental energy to performing.

I am amazed at how much hiding we do in our daily lives. I'm not saying that we need to walk around telling everyone we meet that we are scared about life. I'm suggesting that we tell those people who need to know that they are important to us. We can tell them that we are a little anxious about failing them. That simple process changes the focus from "me going through my life for me" to "me going through life in service of others."