Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Turning 60: The Twelve Most Important Lessons I've Learned So Far

http://blogs.hbr.org/schwartz/2012/05/turning-60-the-twelve-most.html

Turning 60: The Twelve Most Important Lessons I've Learned So Far

Tomorrow is my birthday — always an opportunity for reflection, but especially this time. For several weeks now, I've been thinking about what I've learned during the past six decades that really matters. Here's a first pass:
1. The more we know about ourselves, the more power we have to behave better. Humility is underrated. We each have an infinite capacity for self-deception — countless unconscious ways we protect ourselves from pain, uncertainty, and responsibility — often at the expense of others and of ourselves. Endless introspection can turn into self-indulgence, but deepening self-awareness is essential to freeing ourselves from our reactive, habitual behaviors.
2. Notice the good. We each carry an evolutionary predisposition to dwell on what's wrong in our lives. The antidote is to deliberately take time out each day to notice what's going right, and to feel grateful for what you've got. It's probably a lot.
3. Let go of certainty. The opposite isn't uncertainty. It's openness, curiosity and a willingness to embrace paradox, rather than choose up sides. The ultimate challenge is to accept ourselves exactly as we are, but never stop trying to learn and grow.
4. Never seek your value at the expense of someone else's. When we're feeling devalued, our reactive instinct is to do anything to restore what we've lost. Devaluing the person who made you feel bad will only prompt more of the same in return.
5. Do the most important thing first in the morning and you'll never have an unproductive day. Most of us have the highest energy early in the day, and the fewest distractions. By focusing for a designated period of time, without interruption, on the highest value task for no more than 90 minutes, it's possible to get an extraordinary amount of work accomplished in a short time.
6. It's possible to be excellent at anything, but nothing valuable comes easy and discomfort is part of growth. Getting better at something depends far less on inborn talent than it does the willingness to practice the activity over and over, and to seek out regular feedback, the more precise the better.
7. The more behaviors you intentionally make automatic in your life, the more you'll get done. If you have to think about doing something each time you do it, you probably won't do it for very long. The trick is to get more things done using less energy and conscious self-control. How often do you forget to brush your teeth?
8. Slow down. Speed is the enemy of nearly everything in life that really matters. It's addictive and it undermines quality, compassion, depth, creativity, appreciation and real relationship.
9. The feeling of having enough is magical. It rarely depends on how much you've got. More is rarely better. Too much of anything eventually becomes toxic.
10. Do the right thing because it's the right thing to do, and don't expect anything in return. Your values are one of the only possessions you have that no one can take away from you. Doing the right thing may not always get you what you think you want in the moment, but it will almost always leave you feeling better about yourself in the long run. When in doubt, default to calm and kind.
11. Add more value in the world than you're using up. We spend down the earth's resources every day. Life's primary challenge is to put more back into the world than we take out.
12. Savor every moment — even the difficult ones. It all goes so fast.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Making big decisions about money - seth godin



http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2012/03/making-big-decisions-about-money.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+typepad%2Fsethsmainblog+%28Seth%27s+Blog%29&utm_content=Yahoo!+Mail

Making big decisions about money

We're bad at it. And marketers know this.
Consider: you're buying a $30,000 car and you have the option of upgrading the stereo to the 18 speaker, 100 watt version for just $500 more. Should you?
Or perhaps you're considering two jobs, one that you love and one that pays $2,000 more. Which to choose?
Or...
You are lucky enough to be able to choose between two colleges. One, the one with the nice campus and slightly more famous name, will cost your parents (and your long-term debt) about $200,000 for four years, and the other ("lesser" school) has offered you a full scholarship.
Which should you take?
In a surprisingly large number of cases, we take the stereo, even though we'd never buy a nice stereo at home, or we choose to "go with our heart because college is so important" and pick the expensive college. (This is, of course, a good choice to have to make, as most people can't possibly find the money).
Here's one reason we mess up: Money is just a number.
Comparing dreams of a great stereo (four years of driving long distances, listening to great music!) compared with the daily reminder of our cheapness makes picking the better stereo feel easier. After all, we're not giving up anything but a number.
The college case is even more clear. $200,000 is a number that's big, sure, but it doesn't have much substance. It's not a number we play with or encounter very often. The feeling about the story of compromise involving something tied up in our self-esteem, though, that feeling is something we deal with daily.
Here's how to undo the self-marketing. Stop using numbers.
You can have the stereo if you give up going to Starbucks every workday for the next year and a half. Worth it?
If you go to the free school, you can drive there in a brand new Mini convertible, and every summer you can spend $25,000 on a top-of-the-line internship/experience, and you can create a jazz series and pay your favorite musicians to come to campus to play for you and your fifty coolest friends, and you can have Herbie Hancock give you piano lessons and you can still have enough money left over to live without debt for a year after you graduate while you look for the perfect gig...
Suddenly, you're not comparing "this is my dream," with a number that means very little. You're comparing one version of your dream with another version.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Invocation for beginnings


http://ashow.zefrank.com/episodes/1


Don’t call it a comb-back, I’ll have hair for years.
I’m scared.
I’m scared that my abilities are gone.
I’m scared that I’m gonna fuck this up.
And I’m scared of you.
I don’t wanna start. But I will.
This is an invocation for everyone who hasn’t begun. Who’s stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.
Let me realize that my past failures at follow-through are no indication of my future performance, they are just healthy little fires that are gonna warm up my ass.
If my FILDI is strong, let me keep him in a velvet box until I really really need him. If my FILDI is weak, let me feed him oranges and not let him gorge himself on ego and arrogance.
Let me not hit on my Facebook, like it’s a crack pipe. Keep the browser closed.
If I catch myself wearing a tutu - too fat, too late, too old - let me shake it off like a donkey would shake off something it doesn’t like.
And when I get that feeling in my stomach - you know the feeling when all of a sudden you get a ball of energy and it shoots down into your legs and up into your arms and tells you to get up and stand up and go to the refrigerator and get a cheese sandwich? That’s my cheesemonster talking. And my cheesemonster will never be satisfied by Cheddar. Only the cheese of accomplishment.
Let me think about the people who I care about the most. And how, when they fail or disappoint me, I still love them, I still give them chances and I still see the best in them. Let me extend that generosity to myself.
Let me find and use metaphors to help me understand the world around me and give me the strength to get rid of them when it’s apparent they no longer work.
Let me thank the parts of me that I no don’t understand or are outside of my rational control, like my creativity and my courage. And let me remember that my courage is a wild dog. It won’t just come when I call it. I have to chase it down and hold on as tight as I can.
Let me not be so vain to think that I’m the sole author of my victories and a victim of my defeats.
Let me remember that the unintended meaning that people project onto what I do is neither my fault nor something I can take credit for.
Perfectionism may look good in his shiny shoes, but he’s a little bit of an asshole and no one invites him to their pool-parties.
Let me remember that the impact of criticism is often not the intent of the critic. But when the intent is evil - that’s what the block-button’s for.
And when I eat my critique, let me be able to separate out the good advice from the bitter herbs.
???
Let me not think about my work only as a stepping stone to something else. And if it is - let me become fascinated with the shape of the stone.
Let me take the idea that has gotten me this far and put it to bed. What I’m about to do will not be that. But it will be something.
There’s no need to sharpen my pencils any more. My pencils are sharp enough. Even the dull ones will make a mark.
Warts and all. Let’s start this shit up.
(And god, let me enjoy this. Life isn’t just a sequence of waiting for things to be done.)