“We have met the enemy and they is us.” Pogo
I always loved that quote from Walt Kelly’s comic strip. His animal characters, the residents of the swamp, reflect all the foibles of human nature—selfishness, stupidity, greediness, and narrow-mindedness, but ironically, they are harmless because most of their faults are directed inward toward themselves.
What an accurate representation of the world that we live in! We complain about taxes, laziness, and too many governmental rules and regulations that result in the short-circuiting of our personal self-actualization. But the simple fact is this: It’s our fault. Many of us have lost our personal moral compass and as a result, certain institutions must step in to act “in loco parentis”.
How does this relate to careers, education and your life?
In the swamp, Pogo Possum is the only character that sees this. Take a look at your own life, can you see it?
In our search for something meaningful, we are our own worst enemy. Instead of choosing the difficult journey, we opt for the easy road. With the malodorous fear of success in our head, we subconsciously self-sabotage our well-being to sink back into our comfort zone, where we are lulled into complacency and sleepwalk through our lives.
It is excruciatingly painful to grow and change. You must navigate unchartered territory never knowing the outcome of that journey, but hoping that it matches that vision planted in your head. You're oblivious to the fact that everything and everyone around you is changing everyday. It’s an imperceptible change that you don’t feel or recognize, but it’s there just the same. You are the only one kicking and screaming to remain in the same place.
Start today and make your inner self your best friend, instead of your worst enemy. Monitor your daily actions and see if you, yourself, are the one barricading yourself from your ultimate potential.
Monday, December 06, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Have a Heaping Helping of Thanksgiving With A Pinch of Guilt
As most Americans move from the table to the television, I hope all of you have given sincere thanks for your many blessings, but I hope you have a added just a pinch of healthy guilt to your full stomach.
Many, many Americans (and non-Americans) are suffering greatly, not just today, but everyday. It doesn’t matter if it’s the homeless on the streets of Downtown Lubbock or on the savannahs of Sudan, people are suffering, while we are full, warm, entertained and sadly, oblivious.
Thinking that guilt should not apply to them, more Americans and Lubbockites (than I care to admit) will shrug this message off—“Hey, well, I don’t feel very bad for those people, some of them have made bad choices and besides, I have a right to this, I’ve worked hard, saved, and led a good life and besides I give to my church to give to those people”.
“Those people”…that’s the term that makes me cringe.
But for the Grace of God, go I. Think about where you began your life—much of your success can be attributed to being born with advantages—good infant health, two parents (or one really committed strong parent), an education, access to good health care as a child, and continued good health far into your working years.
“Those people” may not have been a "lucky sperm of month club" or a "winning egg in the ovarian lottery" as Warren Buffett so aptly puts it—YOU, either by chance of birth or by geography, by DNA, by religion, by gender, could be one of “those people”. By chance, you could have been born in the poorest slum in Mexico or the outbacks of Tasmania, or the thick forests in Jakarta.
I don't know if many of you realize it, but your grasp on prosperity is tenuous, very tenuous. If you got lucky with your birth circumstance, you may not have fared so well with your “happenstance”. You might have begun life with a lucky beginning, but perhaps worked in an occupation that made you sick, or fought in a war that took your limbs, or your livelihood was downsized and you couldn’t find work and you used alcohol or drugs to take away the pain of your loss. Unlucky, unlucky, unlucky…with a mere toss of the dice, you might be one of “those people”—in a soup kitchen today instead of your stainless steel kitchen.
In my thirty years of work in education, where most of my “customers” were those in dire socioeconomic straits—I can’t think of a single one that WANTED, really wanted to be in the situation they found themselves. They truly didn’t know the path to get out. That’s where YOU come in.
Helping out the disenfranchised doesn’t mean throwing money at the problem, it means building bonds with “those people”. That’s what “those people” need most—the unconditional positive regard of those in other places. They need someone to convince them that they are not “those people”, the losers, the underbelly of the world—some strange American equivalent to an “untouchable” caste.
Guilt is a negative emotion, but some times guilt is an effective motivator in getting people off the couch and out into the world of “those people”.
Many, many Americans (and non-Americans) are suffering greatly, not just today, but everyday. It doesn’t matter if it’s the homeless on the streets of Downtown Lubbock or on the savannahs of Sudan, people are suffering, while we are full, warm, entertained and sadly, oblivious.
Thinking that guilt should not apply to them, more Americans and Lubbockites (than I care to admit) will shrug this message off—“Hey, well, I don’t feel very bad for those people, some of them have made bad choices and besides, I have a right to this, I’ve worked hard, saved, and led a good life and besides I give to my church to give to those people”.
“Those people”…that’s the term that makes me cringe.
But for the Grace of God, go I. Think about where you began your life—much of your success can be attributed to being born with advantages—good infant health, two parents (or one really committed strong parent), an education, access to good health care as a child, and continued good health far into your working years.
“Those people” may not have been a "lucky sperm of month club" or a "winning egg in the ovarian lottery" as Warren Buffett so aptly puts it—YOU, either by chance of birth or by geography, by DNA, by religion, by gender, could be one of “those people”. By chance, you could have been born in the poorest slum in Mexico or the outbacks of Tasmania, or the thick forests in Jakarta.
I don't know if many of you realize it, but your grasp on prosperity is tenuous, very tenuous. If you got lucky with your birth circumstance, you may not have fared so well with your “happenstance”. You might have begun life with a lucky beginning, but perhaps worked in an occupation that made you sick, or fought in a war that took your limbs, or your livelihood was downsized and you couldn’t find work and you used alcohol or drugs to take away the pain of your loss. Unlucky, unlucky, unlucky…with a mere toss of the dice, you might be one of “those people”—in a soup kitchen today instead of your stainless steel kitchen.
In my thirty years of work in education, where most of my “customers” were those in dire socioeconomic straits—I can’t think of a single one that WANTED, really wanted to be in the situation they found themselves. They truly didn’t know the path to get out. That’s where YOU come in.
Helping out the disenfranchised doesn’t mean throwing money at the problem, it means building bonds with “those people”. That’s what “those people” need most—the unconditional positive regard of those in other places. They need someone to convince them that they are not “those people”, the losers, the underbelly of the world—some strange American equivalent to an “untouchable” caste.
Guilt is a negative emotion, but some times guilt is an effective motivator in getting people off the couch and out into the world of “those people”.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
The Constant Quest for Authenticity
One of the most precarious pitfalls to which a career counselor can succumb is to give advice and not follow it. It's a throwback to those parental voices--"Do as I say, not as I do."
One of the methods I use for life planning in Career TPMS is for clients to create a broad Interstate Highway plan for life, but with Access Road possibilities. Life is a journey and like any well-planned trip, we know Interstate Highways are the fastest, safest, smoothest method of getting to our destination.
On the other hand, any experienced driver knows that Interstate Highway's all look alike with little variation, and after a while, those predictably safe roads can literally put a driver to sleep.
The most interesting journeys require that we take a chance, get off the highway and visit an out-of-the-way place. Sometimes those detours are joyfully serendipitous and sometimes, not, but we can easily get back on the Interstate Highway and continue our trip, until the next detour beckons to us.
Over two years have passed, since I sold my home of 26 years, downsized to a small condominium, and relinquished my maternal role to the misty landscapes of the past. My Interstate Highway plan was to practice career counseling June to December and to write and speak January through May.
Then an Access Road possibility appeared--in the form of running for political office. I got off the Interstate and took the detour--it didn't turn out the way I envisioned, but I don't consider it a loss--not even close. I shared my heart and my ideals with hundreds of people who were strangers at first and now, they are friends.
More importantly, for my clients, I'm an authentic example of the Interstate Highway Plan/Access Road Possibilities. I took Robert Frost's less traveled road and it did, indeed, make all the difference, but now, back on the Interstate, none the worse for wear.
I held my breath, took a risk, leapt off into the black abyss of the unknown and uncertain. I survived and miraculously, thrived.
My present Interstate Highway plan is to get Of Tapestry, Time and Tears published, travel to India in January and stay for at least eight weeks following in the footsteps of the heroine of the novel. I have spring plans for going with a dear friend who has a home in Condessa, a colonias of Mexico City, to talk to a student who is doing a dissertation on human rights violations in Mexico. Then to dive back into career counseling in June through December.
But those are just my Interstate Plans.
Another access road might call to me to get off the Interstate and I will do just that.
Take a risk, be frightened, but don't attach any expectation to the outcome.
I can now say that to my clients with the greatest of confidence and most importantly, authenticity.
One of the methods I use for life planning in Career TPMS is for clients to create a broad Interstate Highway plan for life, but with Access Road possibilities. Life is a journey and like any well-planned trip, we know Interstate Highways are the fastest, safest, smoothest method of getting to our destination.
On the other hand, any experienced driver knows that Interstate Highway's all look alike with little variation, and after a while, those predictably safe roads can literally put a driver to sleep.
The most interesting journeys require that we take a chance, get off the highway and visit an out-of-the-way place. Sometimes those detours are joyfully serendipitous and sometimes, not, but we can easily get back on the Interstate Highway and continue our trip, until the next detour beckons to us.
Over two years have passed, since I sold my home of 26 years, downsized to a small condominium, and relinquished my maternal role to the misty landscapes of the past. My Interstate Highway plan was to practice career counseling June to December and to write and speak January through May.
Then an Access Road possibility appeared--in the form of running for political office. I got off the Interstate and took the detour--it didn't turn out the way I envisioned, but I don't consider it a loss--not even close. I shared my heart and my ideals with hundreds of people who were strangers at first and now, they are friends.
More importantly, for my clients, I'm an authentic example of the Interstate Highway Plan/Access Road Possibilities. I took Robert Frost's less traveled road and it did, indeed, make all the difference, but now, back on the Interstate, none the worse for wear.
I held my breath, took a risk, leapt off into the black abyss of the unknown and uncertain. I survived and miraculously, thrived.
My present Interstate Highway plan is to get Of Tapestry, Time and Tears published, travel to India in January and stay for at least eight weeks following in the footsteps of the heroine of the novel. I have spring plans for going with a dear friend who has a home in Condessa, a colonias of Mexico City, to talk to a student who is doing a dissertation on human rights violations in Mexico. Then to dive back into career counseling in June through December.
But those are just my Interstate Plans.
Another access road might call to me to get off the Interstate and I will do just that.
Take a risk, be frightened, but don't attach any expectation to the outcome.
I can now say that to my clients with the greatest of confidence and most importantly, authenticity.
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