It Takes Time To Learn And Grow, Are You Ready?

In the introduction to this series of videos, I said that my aim was to be a kind of contentment officer for you, if I can — to get you to think differently, breathe differently, have a different perspective on your life and your work, that hopefully will then be applied to your life and your work, work being an essential and important part of our lives. And I was thinking about that, and thinking also about one of the episodes in which I talked about George Shultz, who was Reagan's Secretary of State, and the fact that he would take time every day — what he called the Shultz hour — to switch to a comfortable chair, to close the office door, and to look up and stare at the ceiling tiles, or out the window at the clouds. Who knows what he looked at, or what he thought?

And I'm wondering if you don't do that because maybe you say, "I just don't know what to think about or to do. I don't know how best to use that time, so I won't make the time for it." I want to offer you a piece of writing that I think will be intriguing and thought-provoking, and hopefully provoke conversation in your life with the people in your life, and hopefully create change. It's a poem — but don't be dissuaded from listening just because I said the word "poem." Some people might think that's intimidating. Just listen; it's really wonderful and accessible. It's called "Autobiography in Five Short Chapters," and the poet is called Portia Nelson. Here it goes.

Chapter one: I walk down the street. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I'm lost. I'm hopeless. It isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. Chapter two: I walk down the same street. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I'm in the same place, but it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out. Chapter three: I walk down the same street. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in — it's a habit — but my eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately. Chapter four: I walk down the same street. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it. Chapter five: I walk down another street.

What a great short poem — about life, and about change management, and about our ability to manage changes in our own lives, and about the fact that all of us do all those four chapters before we get to the fifth. We're not ready, we don't see the pitfalls, we don't see the perils, we don't see the patterns — but then we grow. And the question is, when are we willing to say, "It's time to change direction, time to change course"? I often think that a change in the direction of my feet, just that much, will take me to a completely different destination on the map. I don't need to think about moving this much — we're turning around all together. Sometimes it's just a simple, subtle shift in the direction of my toes that will take me in a completely different, and hopefully better, direction. So I offer you this poem, and these thoughts, hopefully for these days and for your perspective and contemplation.