Learning to Listen to What You Need (7-10-24)

I hope you all enjoyed the 4^th of July holiday! The last entry was about expanding your comfort zone. This entry is about listening to what you need.

Cam came home after a particularly long rehearsal and was irritable. It had been a long week of rehearsals and other commitments. He was exhausted and grouchy. He comes home and says, “I’m grumpy. I just need to go flump.” In our house, flumping is like collapsing onto a softer cushiony service like a bed or a chair. Sometimes the flump also includes snuggling, reading, or just listening to music. In this instance, Cam flumped on his bed in his room and read his favorite book for 10-15 minutes. He then emerged from his room feeling so much better and was ready to face the world again. (Pic from Pawz Pet Café where you can go to snuggle some cats. #advancedflumping)

What does this have to do with anything? I love and am so impressed with how well Cameron can listen to what he needs in a moment and then act on that. He knew he was irritable and grumpy, and he knew that all he needed was 10-15 minutes to read to recharge his batteries. That’s wisdom and awareness that I don’t always have.

Meanwhile, here is how things play out for me. I don’t fully understand how upset I am at the moment and continue to keep pushing forward while a lot of time goes by. Eventually, I accidentally stumble into doing something along the way that is what I need whether that’s going on a walk, writing, reading a book, or something else. All of a sudden I feel a bit better, and then I say to myself, “Dang, I didn’t realize how much negative energy I was carrying. I wish I would have paused and did this thing sooner to deal with it.” Anyone else like that, or is it just me? I’m getting a bit better at listening to myself, but I’m not where I want to be yet.

The challenge: How can we do a better job of listening to ourselves and taking action?

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

Photography and Being Present (5-6-20)

Bond of Brothers by David Lloyd

Happy Wednesday,

This is our last in the series inspired by art. We started with painting over our mistakes, reflected on how mosaics are what true inclusion is about, explored how messiness is often the price of greatness, and last week was about what we see in a painting and situation. This week is about photography and being present. The photos come from https://www.theguardian.com/environment/gallery/2020/jan/01/the-best-of-2019-wildlife-photography-awards-in-pictures.

Photography has always fascinated me, because at its heart it is about capturing a moment. The camera can’t dwell on the past, replaying the mistakes it has made and the things it wishes it could do over. The camera can’t get lost in the future, worrying about what might come to be. Instead, the camera can only capture what is in front of it in that specific moment.

How does this connect to life? There is incredible power in photography, because it is fully present. The photo captures that one moment in time in all its beauty, joy, sadness, pain, splendor, or any other emotion. To see a picture is to be brought to that moment and nowhere else. I often find myself lost in the past or the future, concerned about things I did or worried about what might come. I get lost in the business of the day to day grind and stop seeing what is in front of me. As I reflect, I wish sometimes that I was more like a photographer with their camera, fully immersed in the moment, taking it all in, and experiencing all that moment has to offer. I wish I did that better as a husband, a dad, a friend, an employee, and a human.

The challenge: How can you do better at living in the moment?

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

What do you see in the picture? (4-29-20)

Last week was about how messiness is often the price of greatness. This week is about what you see in a painting, a person, or a situation.

Take a moment and look at the image. What do you see? What do you notice? The painting is called “Wheatfield with Cypresses” and was painted by Vincent Van Gogh. When you look at the image you might notice a variety of things. You might notice it is an oil painting. You might notice the large trees. You might notice the billowing clouds. You might notice the soft swirl that created the wheat field. If you’re my daughter Alice you notice the collection of the rocks/bushes/small trees to the left of the painting and how it looks like a rock monster. I’m guessing you didn’t see the rock monster. However, if you were a young Pokémon fan, maybe you would have seen the rock monster too. I’d imagine that’s not exactly what Van Gogh was going for, but he still is bringing her joy 😉

What does this have to do with anything? Every situation, every conversation, every self-reflection is a painted canvas for us to observe, and we will all see different things. What we see is often shaped by our experiences and our context. The trick is that as we grow older we get more set in our ways and often lose the ability to see the wide variety of things we once could when we were kids, like hidden rock monsters. When you are presented with a challenge, what do you see? Do you see the obstacles and all the things that will stop you? Do you see the opportunities and the different ways you can succeed? Whether you see mainly obstacles or mainly opportunities, drastically changes what you see. When you meet others do you see their flaws first or their potential? When you look at yourself do you see your beauty or your shortcomings?

The challenge: What will you see in the canvases (people and situations) placed in front of you? Will you see light and love? Will you see darkness and despair? Will you see all these things and more?

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

Cooking, Messiness, and the Price of Greatness (4-22-20)

Last week was about mosaics, diversity, and inclusion. This week is about the art of cooking and the price of greatness. It was a Saturday morning. I woke up and cleaned the house from top to bottom with the help of my daughters. If they help they get more screen time, and that is a huge motivator (#parentinggenius). Anyway, that morning I had deep cleaned the kitchen. The counters were spotless. The sink was gleaming. The dishwasher was empty, and the stove looked like it was brand new.

Later that night my wife was baking. She looked at the ingredients she had spilled on the island, the dirty dishes littering the counters, the smudges on what I had perfected earlier that morning and she said, “I’m sorry I just ruined the kitchen you cleaned.” Without missing a beat, I responded, “That’s the price of deliciousness, and I’m happy to pay that.” (#smooth #getonmylevel) Sure, I had worked hard on cleaning the kitchen. Yes, she had completely ruined my hard work in a matter of minutes. However, my wife is an amazing baker, and I knew whatever she was creating was going to be incredible, and well worth the mess. I could always clean the kitchen again, but I can’t easily reproduce what my wife makes.

How does this connect with anything? Cooking, like any other art, is an expression of creativity that can lead to greatness. More importantly, in my experience creativity makes things messy on its way to greatness. Sometimes it’s messy in the form of a dirty kitchen or spilled paint. Sometimes it’s messy in the form of whiteboards with arrows everywhere and conversations where people are thinking out loud while wading through the mud to get somewhere.

Getting to greatness is always a bit messy, so it’s important to be aware of how you respond to this messiness. There are some individuals who get frustrated by the messiness and try to shut it down. They don’t want to allow things to move forward until they are perfect. This creates a stifling environment where people aren’t comfortable sharing and exploring ideas. There are other individuals who are comfortable with the messiness, because they know it is the price you have to pay for greatness. These individuals let things play out, ask questions to help others think through things, and ultimately are patient enough for the messiness to transform into something. What kind of person are you?

The challenge: Will you get frustrated by the messiness and stifle creativity? Or, will you recognize messiness is the price that must be paid for greatness?

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

Mosaics, Diversity, and Inclusion (4-15-20)

Last week we started a series about art by examining how we can paint over our mistakes. This week is about mosaics, diversity, and inclusion.

Mosaics are beautiful pieces of art that have always fascinated me, because you combine things, but you never blend them. The mosaic is made of several small pieces, and each piece has its own individual integrity, shape, design, color, etc. At the same time, the individual pieces are part of a larger whole. Each individual piece has its own role to play in creating the larger picture. The images in this blog post are of the mosaics my wife made on stepping stones that lead out to our garden. #marriedup

What does this have to do with anything? Mosaics are an example of what true inclusion should look like. A mosaic is made of pieces that maintain their individuality, while also contributing to the larger picture. Mosaics don’t blend. Mosaics don’t require all of the individual pieces to assimilate. Making a mosaic requires the creator to understand the piece and where it can fit in a way to add to an image that is larger and more beautiful than the piece can be on its own. We should all strive for this as we build cultures and teams.

Have you ever been on a great team where you truly felt included? What caused you to feel that way? In my case, I’ve felt this way when people have seen me as the individual I am, valued that, and at the same time helped me see my role in something larger. Those teams and situations always give me joy, engagement, and the fuel I need to get through anything. Have you ever experienced the opposite? I have. I’ve been in situations where my individuality wasn’t valued and where the expectation was to blend in with everything. I’ve been in situations where all of the members on the team were individuals, and we were never part of something. At best this was exhausting and at worst this was often toxic.

The challenge: How will you build teams and culture like a mosaic?

Bonus poem about mosaic making

You are an artist making a mosaic,

the pieces dumped in front of you,

tiles and glass of different colors and shapes.

Handle the pieces carefully,

or they will cut you for your carelessness.

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

Painting and Making Mistakes (4-8-20)

This week I’d like to tell one more story about my daughters and transition us into a series inspired by art. This week is about painting and making mistakes.

The picture is of Alice holding a painting she did on her own for a 2^nd grade project. You probably can’t tell looking at the picture, but she initially made a mistake on the eyes. When she realized her mistake, she got upset with herself and was convinced that she had ruined the painting. I took her aside explained to her that when people examine paintings, even some of the most famous paintings in the world, that if they look beyond the top layer of paint they can see where the artist initially made a mistake. They can see where the artist recovered and painted over their mistake, and unless you had the right equipment, you’d never know an error was made in the first place. I told her she could just paint over her mistake, and the painting would turn out just fine.

What does this have to do with anything? I don’t know about you, but I can be just like Alice sometimes. I make one small mistake and think that something is ruined. The truth is that most of the mistakes and flaws that I see in myself and my work aren’t even seen by other people. On top of this, even if the mistake is seen, it’s usually something that can be painted over, before it ever impacts the final deliverable. With everything going on right now it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by supposed mistakes and shortcomings like not being as productive, missed opportunities, not being as on top of things, kids crashing conference calls, etc. If you feel or experience any of these, it’s okay. It’s just a sign that you’re human. When you experience these I hope you can take a deep breath and realize that this mistake is something that most likely will not be noticed and can easily be painted over. By the time this is all over, you will be a piece of art showcasing your grit, tenacity, and grace, and that beauty is what will be seen.

The challenge: When you make a mistake, will you pause and remember you can probably “paint over it”?

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry