Make the call. Most people don’t take initiative. Steve Jobs said no one he ever reached out
to for help ever refused. He simply
asked.
Years ago as I was sitting on the sofa of my cramped New York apartment my friend was pounding away at my laptop. He was make inquiry after inquiry looking for opportunities to get in his foot in the door. Just as he was about close shop he checked one last email before mumbling something under his breath, "You'd be amazed what you can get out of life if you just ask." That inadvertent piece of advice has become the single most influential insight of my life. And to think, I wasn't even supposed to hear it!
Here's my brief track record of simply asking:
-- Worked as an intern at a major news station in the San Francisco Bay Area and got to interview several members of the Oakland A's and San Francisco Giants. I was only 19.
-- Volunteered for a New York City Council Member and was allowed to attend meetings and events not open to the public. I learned a great deal about the nuances of city government.
-- Became a casting reader for major television networks and Broadway, reading opposite stars of the stage and screen.
-- Spent time at an orphanage in Haiti.
-- Spoke at a TEDx Event by asking the coordinator if they still needed speakers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSAgO3sPBog&t=517s
-- Acted in a feature film I was only supposed to be a production assistant for
Figure out what it is you want and ask for it. The worst that can happen pales in comparison to what doors may open if you make the call.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Lessons from My Mom and Dad
In a few weeks one of my closest friends ties the knot. A few months back he asked me in a quiet coffee shop if I'd be his Best Man. "Of course," I told him. "I'd be honored."
Since that rainy morning, I've spent the last few months drafting a speech for his wedding night. It might sound a little extreme to take such measures to prep a 5 minute speech several months in advance, but I want to make sure I include all the wonderful qualities that make my friend such a good guy.
I've spent a great deal reflecting about our friendship and the man he's become. To watch someone you care about grow into a person of integrity, kindness, and respect is perhaps one of the most fulfilling joys of life. (he was once banned from a Mormon basketball league for cursing)
I've also thought about relationships and how much I admire his partnership with his soon to be wife. It reminds me in some ways of the relationship between my own parents. And if they can somehow emulate some of the patterns that have made their relationship so successful I'm convinced they'll do just fine. After all, I believe my mom and dad's marriage is the greatest love story ever told.
Many years ago after I'd broken up with a girl I loved deeply but just wasn't mature enough to commit to fully I met up with my dad for dinner. He was in New York for business as he often was and asked if we could grab a bite to eat before he left the following day. We always met on Theater Row over on 46th Street. My dad loved the simple, no frills Italian restaurants that lined the street. He was also a big fan of the pre-fixed meal you could get for $25. (at least 10 years ago)
As we sat at our table on a rather slow night I told him my 3-year relationship had just ended. He paused before saying, "You know, as you get older in life, things like intimacy and appearance become less important. What matters is the friendship you have with someone. And your mother has always been my best friend," he told me.
After nearly 40 years of marriage my parents are still together and happily so. But to be fair, they have never denied their partnership has required immensely hard work, sacrifice, and overcoming challenges. Still, as far as I can tell what makes their relationship work so well is mastering the simple things:
-- They laugh together. A LOT.
-- They still hold hands.
-- They listen to one another.
-- They agree to disagree.
-- They sit in silence with one another
-- They go for walks together.
-- They give each other space and allow each to do their own thing.
-- They travel together.
-- They communicate.
-- They have perspective.
-- They're honest with themselves and as a result with each other.
-- They don't hide anything.
-- They recognize that life is short and there's not time to waste.
Watching them has been a Masters Class not only in how to make a relationship thrive but how to treat another human being.
Since that rainy morning, I've spent the last few months drafting a speech for his wedding night. It might sound a little extreme to take such measures to prep a 5 minute speech several months in advance, but I want to make sure I include all the wonderful qualities that make my friend such a good guy.
I've spent a great deal reflecting about our friendship and the man he's become. To watch someone you care about grow into a person of integrity, kindness, and respect is perhaps one of the most fulfilling joys of life. (he was once banned from a Mormon basketball league for cursing)
I've also thought about relationships and how much I admire his partnership with his soon to be wife. It reminds me in some ways of the relationship between my own parents. And if they can somehow emulate some of the patterns that have made their relationship so successful I'm convinced they'll do just fine. After all, I believe my mom and dad's marriage is the greatest love story ever told.
Many years ago after I'd broken up with a girl I loved deeply but just wasn't mature enough to commit to fully I met up with my dad for dinner. He was in New York for business as he often was and asked if we could grab a bite to eat before he left the following day. We always met on Theater Row over on 46th Street. My dad loved the simple, no frills Italian restaurants that lined the street. He was also a big fan of the pre-fixed meal you could get for $25. (at least 10 years ago)
As we sat at our table on a rather slow night I told him my 3-year relationship had just ended. He paused before saying, "You know, as you get older in life, things like intimacy and appearance become less important. What matters is the friendship you have with someone. And your mother has always been my best friend," he told me.
After nearly 40 years of marriage my parents are still together and happily so. But to be fair, they have never denied their partnership has required immensely hard work, sacrifice, and overcoming challenges. Still, as far as I can tell what makes their relationship work so well is mastering the simple things:
-- They laugh together. A LOT.
-- They still hold hands.
-- They listen to one another.
-- They agree to disagree.
-- They sit in silence with one another
-- They go for walks together.
-- They give each other space and allow each to do their own thing.
-- They travel together.
-- They communicate.
-- They have perspective.
-- They're honest with themselves and as a result with each other.
-- They don't hide anything.
-- They recognize that life is short and there's not time to waste.
Watching them has been a Masters Class not only in how to make a relationship thrive but how to treat another human being.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
What Would Babis Do?
Many years ago I spent a summer in Saratoga Springs, New York. It's been a popular resort destination for nearly 200 years and is also the home of Skidmore College. It was a wonderful time in my young life and a great place to spend a summer working with my mentor Anne Bogart, and her terrific theater group SITI Company.
I was impressed by how far people had come to study with Anne. Absurdly talented storytellers came from places like Australia, Brazil, and Germany. Each offered wildly unique ways to approach the work and tell truthful stories. I took great comfort in knowing there were people from across the globe who believed our work in bringing life to stage still mattered.
One person in particular who had a great impression on me was a man named Babis. He was about ten years older and moved to New York from Greece years before. He spoke with a heavy accent as I often wondered if we were having the same conversation. But to know Babis was to love him. Words or no words.
He was a brilliant stage actor. Babis was never afraid to look silly or be perceived a certain way. He was absolutely fearless when it came to performing. Maybe it's in the blood, I often wondered. How does someone just get that good?
Babis and I got along well but lost contact shortly after the program. He performed a handful of times in student productions, while I was at Columbia. I made sure I went to see him each time he was in a play and he never disappointed. You knew with Babis you were getting your money's worth. When he stepped on stage he gave you everything he had.
Babis passed away a few years ago. Far too young. He died of some sudden and rather mysterious illness that I've never asked to know more about. I never thought it mattered really. Everybody that knew Babis knows all that counted was how he lived.
As compelling as he was to watch on stage he was even more beautiful to watch in life. Even in my limited time with him he still influences me in profound ways. He emanated life -- it seemed to pour out of every fiber of his being. He didn't hesitate or wait for life to begin. There was no lukewarm living. Just the now.
Today, as I was driving to a teaching assignment I thought about Babis and how he might handle a decision I've been wrestling with for quite some time. At this point, I've turned it over countless times in my mind and can't seem to come to a conclusion. There are definite pros and cons to each choice I'm faced with but I sense I'll regret not taking advantage of the opportunity more than anything else.
Toward the end of my drive I wondered what Babis would do. I can't tell you why I had this thought but I'm enormously grateful I did because all I could see in my mind was his big smile. He didn't utter a word. Didn't need to. Perhaps I wouldn't have understood him anyway. Somehow the image of him beaming from ear to ear was all I needed to make my decision. Suddenly, it all seemed so clear.
Find your inner Babis and GO.
I was impressed by how far people had come to study with Anne. Absurdly talented storytellers came from places like Australia, Brazil, and Germany. Each offered wildly unique ways to approach the work and tell truthful stories. I took great comfort in knowing there were people from across the globe who believed our work in bringing life to stage still mattered.
One person in particular who had a great impression on me was a man named Babis. He was about ten years older and moved to New York from Greece years before. He spoke with a heavy accent as I often wondered if we were having the same conversation. But to know Babis was to love him. Words or no words.
He was a brilliant stage actor. Babis was never afraid to look silly or be perceived a certain way. He was absolutely fearless when it came to performing. Maybe it's in the blood, I often wondered. How does someone just get that good?
Babis and I got along well but lost contact shortly after the program. He performed a handful of times in student productions, while I was at Columbia. I made sure I went to see him each time he was in a play and he never disappointed. You knew with Babis you were getting your money's worth. When he stepped on stage he gave you everything he had.
Babis passed away a few years ago. Far too young. He died of some sudden and rather mysterious illness that I've never asked to know more about. I never thought it mattered really. Everybody that knew Babis knows all that counted was how he lived.
As compelling as he was to watch on stage he was even more beautiful to watch in life. Even in my limited time with him he still influences me in profound ways. He emanated life -- it seemed to pour out of every fiber of his being. He didn't hesitate or wait for life to begin. There was no lukewarm living. Just the now.
Today, as I was driving to a teaching assignment I thought about Babis and how he might handle a decision I've been wrestling with for quite some time. At this point, I've turned it over countless times in my mind and can't seem to come to a conclusion. There are definite pros and cons to each choice I'm faced with but I sense I'll regret not taking advantage of the opportunity more than anything else.
Toward the end of my drive I wondered what Babis would do. I can't tell you why I had this thought but I'm enormously grateful I did because all I could see in my mind was his big smile. He didn't utter a word. Didn't need to. Perhaps I wouldn't have understood him anyway. Somehow the image of him beaming from ear to ear was all I needed to make my decision. Suddenly, it all seemed so clear.
Find your inner Babis and GO.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Brave vs. Reckless
Right now my 8th graders are reading a book called, Banner in the Sky. The lead character is a young boy of 16 named Rudi Matt who is determined to scale the last great summit of the Alps -- The Citadel. Only one man has ever dared to approach the top and he died in his pursuit. His name was Josef Matt. He was Rudi's father.
The book has inspired some wonderful conversations with my students. We've talked at great length about pursuing dreams and whether or not they can come at too great a cost. The other day I asked, "Is Rudi's dream to climb the Citadel brave or reckless? And what is the difference?"
They say the most rewarding part of being a teacher is learning from those you teach. I couldn't agree more. Each response was unique, unbridled, and sincere. "Well, I think he's being brave," one student said. "It's something he wants to do and he's doing it. That takes courage." Another argued he was being self-serving. "He has a responsibility to his mother who is worried about him. Not only is he being reckless but he's selfish."
Wherever my students stood it was clear the book resonated with them on a deeply personal level. I was reminded of the power of storytelling but more importantly how we must define what it means to be bold instead of careless on our own terms.
The book has inspired some wonderful conversations with my students. We've talked at great length about pursuing dreams and whether or not they can come at too great a cost. The other day I asked, "Is Rudi's dream to climb the Citadel brave or reckless? And what is the difference?"
They say the most rewarding part of being a teacher is learning from those you teach. I couldn't agree more. Each response was unique, unbridled, and sincere. "Well, I think he's being brave," one student said. "It's something he wants to do and he's doing it. That takes courage." Another argued he was being self-serving. "He has a responsibility to his mother who is worried about him. Not only is he being reckless but he's selfish."
Wherever my students stood it was clear the book resonated with them on a deeply personal level. I was reminded of the power of storytelling but more importantly how we must define what it means to be bold instead of careless on our own terms.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
How You Spend Your Time Has Enormous Symbolic Value
I've been talking about a book I recently picked up called, Only the Paranoid Survive by the former CEO of Intel, Andrew S. Grove. Not surprisingly, he addresses how leaders should consider their time:
"One more word about your own time: if you're in a leadership position, how you spend your time has enormous symbolic value. It will communicate what's important or what isn't far more powerfully than all the speeches you can give. Strategic change doesn't just start at the top. It starts with your calendar. "
Poet Annie Dillard once said, "How we spend our days is how we spend our lives."
The two could not come from more contrasting spectrums. Grove was the CEO of a multinational corporation, while Dillard is a Pulitzer Prize winning writer. Still, both seem to understand that how we spend our time is different that how we talk about our time.
In my own life, I used to talk a great deal about the importance of personal relationships and family. Yet, each week when I took a glance at my calendar I had the sobering realization that very little of those 168 hours went to either. I was talking a big game but not backing it up with my actions.
It seems whether you look at your time through the lens of work life or personal life one thing is for certain: actions speak far louder than words. And theory alone means nothing without initiative.
"One more word about your own time: if you're in a leadership position, how you spend your time has enormous symbolic value. It will communicate what's important or what isn't far more powerfully than all the speeches you can give. Strategic change doesn't just start at the top. It starts with your calendar. "
Poet Annie Dillard once said, "How we spend our days is how we spend our lives."
The two could not come from more contrasting spectrums. Grove was the CEO of a multinational corporation, while Dillard is a Pulitzer Prize winning writer. Still, both seem to understand that how we spend our time is different that how we talk about our time.
In my own life, I used to talk a great deal about the importance of personal relationships and family. Yet, each week when I took a glance at my calendar I had the sobering realization that very little of those 168 hours went to either. I was talking a big game but not backing it up with my actions.
It seems whether you look at your time through the lens of work life or personal life one thing is for certain: actions speak far louder than words. And theory alone means nothing without initiative.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Speak to Strangers
A few months back I
hopped into a cab to go the airport. The driver was cordial and asked if I could help
him navigate down the dark and windy roads that would lead us back to the freeway.
I spent many years hailing cabs back in New York. I discovered it's like any other dance between two human spirits – two strangers feeling each other
out, gauging if one cares much to talk or sit in solitude. The morning rides in
particular leave a fog, a sort of haze making it difficult to decipher reality
from a dream.
In the end, we did
talk. We spoke about family, work, and the merciless pace of time. We
got along well and I wondered if in another life we might have been good
friends. He was a gentle soul who seemed to have a delicate relationship with the
world; two things I could relate to.
The ride was quick
and uneventful, which is to say it was fine. When we got to the arrival curb I paid him and wished him well. He drove
off into the still dark morning as I wheeled my bag through the automatic doors to a brightly lit kiosk. I'll likely never see that man again, but somehow felt better of than I was before. Being human is about connecting regardless of time and space.
Speak to strangers.
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
You've Already Made It: Lessons from the Movie, "Swingers"
There's a part in the film Swingers where Ron Livingston's character, Rob, tries to cheer up his friend Mikey, played by Jon Favreau. Mikey sits in his apartment with the blinds drawn and has quite literally not not the seen the light of day for quite some time.
When Rob all but forces himself up to Mikey's place to check on his friend we find him unshaven with his hair disheveled and distraught over the break-up of his girlfriend back in New York 6 months earlier.
"That's your problem," Rob says. "You don't look at the things you have. You only look at the stuff you don't have. Look out the window. It's sunny every day here. It's like manifest destiny. Don't tell me we didn't make it. We made it! We are here. And everything that is past is prologue to this."
How often have you failed to see how you've already made it? The truth is, if you're pursuing something you love and getting fulfillment out of your work you are living a profoundly rare and fortunate existence.
It took me years to to discover the real superstars in my own life were friends with full-time jobs who still found time to sing, write, act, or play. I marveled at how they’d babysit, teach, or wait tables just so they could pursue something they loved. They taught me to recognize the accomplishments I had overlooked but more importantly to take a little inventory of all that I already had.
They were my "Rob's." They made me realize I was already living the dream.
When Rob all but forces himself up to Mikey's place to check on his friend we find him unshaven with his hair disheveled and distraught over the break-up of his girlfriend back in New York 6 months earlier.
"That's your problem," Rob says. "You don't look at the things you have. You only look at the stuff you don't have. Look out the window. It's sunny every day here. It's like manifest destiny. Don't tell me we didn't make it. We made it! We are here. And everything that is past is prologue to this."
How often have you failed to see how you've already made it? The truth is, if you're pursuing something you love and getting fulfillment out of your work you are living a profoundly rare and fortunate existence.
It took me years to to discover the real superstars in my own life were friends with full-time jobs who still found time to sing, write, act, or play. I marveled at how they’d babysit, teach, or wait tables just so they could pursue something they loved. They taught me to recognize the accomplishments I had overlooked but more importantly to take a little inventory of all that I already had.
They were my "Rob's." They made me realize I was already living the dream.
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