You may have heard the expression, a long road to a small house. We could interpret this as a long, long journey to get to a destination. I want to look at this differently as it pertains to getting something accomplished. Remember, there are many roads to get to a destination.
When I worked in a corporate environment, sometimes I got something done in ways that didn’t fit into someone else’s mold. This was not always an accepted practice and caused some nice ruckus occasionally. There are those times, for regulatory purposes, following protocols is a must. I get that! But outside the boundaries of regulations, does it really matter how you get to your endpoint?
As a leader in an organization, you have a goal to accomplish. Said leader probably has a team to help get to the target. In the larger scope of things, regulations aside, does it matter if I use a purple binder instead of a green one? Maybe I work better with my headphones on, blocking out the surrounding chatter so I can think. Or, perhaps I take my laptop outside on a pretty day to sit under a tree, but I still get to the target. Is my way wrong, or just different?
As leaders, it is important to remember your team is there to help you accomplish, to get to a house. If they choose a paved road to a house or a grassy tundra to the same house, does it really matter? Maybe the paved road is a little longer than the tundra route. The house is most important, is it not? Choose a road and get to the house, but get to the house, that’s the most important.
Now, back to that long road to a small house. Shortcuts are not always the best idea, for sure. Sometimes, though, if a shorter road to the house still gets it done without negatively impacting the organization, is there anything wrong with that? All this to plant a seed. As a leader, be open to the gifts your team offer, even if their road is a little different from yours.
Jealousy, to me, looks like a cowering posture that says “I’m inadequate”, or “I’m doing something wrong”, or “I’m less than in some capacity”. What does it look like to you? Perhaps it comes in shades of green, like envy. Do you ever feel jealous about someone traveling to a destination where you’d like to go? Or, maybe your jealousy looks like wanting an article of clothing for yourself that someone else has.
I feel Jealousy in my arms and shoulders. They feel like they have to protect me somehow from the comparison of myself to someone else or my actions to someone else’s actions. Jealously feels like I’m not enough. Perhaps someone is sharing about a spectacular trip to a place I long to experience myself. It is easy for me to retort, “I’m so jealous!” But what does that mean?
Sure, it could look like wanting something for yourself that you see in someone else. That is not a bad thing. Is jealousy bad? Or is it an invitation to set a goal for yourself? I think when we live from a jealous perspective, that can be destructive. However, if we use it as a tool to explore, it can bring us gifts that otherwise go unnoticed.
I think Jealousy could function to remind me to take part in another person’s joy or excitement, instead of flogging myself about something that might be missing or somehow incomplete or feeble. When I recognize Jealousy, I can focus that on an opportunity to acknowledge greatness in another being, and see a piece of my greatness.
What is your jealousy all about? Show me a picture of what jealousy looks like to you. How does it feel? What is the gift of jealousy?
Our stories about our feelings make us deeply acquainted with who we are…
What does that mean – the gift of time? Have you ever opened a package with time in it? (Chuckle, chortle, grin.) Time is an amazing thing. How many volumes are there regarding time? Let me pick a few ideas for you to jump around in.
From a scientific perspective, time is both linear and parallel. As human beings, we mostly think of time from a linear standpoint. We have this moment. Oops, that moment’s gone now. Blink and instantly we’re experiencing the next moment. It happens in a flash – doesn’t it?
Ever thought about the magic of small gestures? Imagine if someone handed you a little box filled with kind acts. Makes you smile, right? Small gestures are seriously powerful and there is so much to say about them.
Let’s think about it this way. Like time, small gestures can be straightforward yet profound. You do something nice, and bam, it’s out there. But the cool part? Those little things reverberate way beyond that moment and touch so many people beyond the moment.
And here’s where it gets interesting – it’s like these gestures are happening all around us, all the time. We all play a part… you’re out there, doing a kind thing for someone, and at the same exact time, someone else is doing something nice for another person. Mind-blowing, isn’t it?
Can we all be part of this chain of kindness? Every small act, every little moment of kindness, it’s all part of this huge web. I’m here, thinking and talking about kindness, and at the same time, someone else is out there doing a good deed. Usually, you’d think you have to do something first before it makes an impact. But with a small gesture of kindness, the moment you do it, it’s already touching lives.
Playing around with the idea of small gestures is kind of fun. They can change things in a heartbeat. One second, someone might be having a rough day, and a small act of kindness can turn it all around. Is it possible to make a difference and feel the impact at the same time? Are we hopping from one good deed to another, or can these acts blend together? I believe it is all possible.
A simple gesture can heal, just like time heals a skinned knee. It creates moments, memories, and connections. Kindness can feel slow and gentle, or it can be quick and impactful. And in the time it took for us to chat about this, someone somewhere probably just made someone else’s day a bit brighter.
I’m not trying to solve world peace, just tossing around some thoughts around simple gestures of kindness. Maybe you’ve got your own experiences with small gestures. Do tell…
What comes to mind when you visualize all your priorities? Can you see them in a popcorn popper jumping around? Do you ever feel like, when you make a list of tasks and priorities and something comes up to shift your plan, that your priorities are jumping around uncontrollably? I’m thinking there’s a lesson in flexibility snuggled in that scenario – popcorn priorities for dynamic change.
Navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the corporate world is an emotional odyssey. The gleaming skyscrapers and sterile cubicles provide a complex ecosystem of aspirations, expectations, and covert negotiations. With each morning’s swipe of my ID badge at the gate, I don’t just bring in my skills and ambitions, I bring in a cocktail of emotions—hope, trepidation, enthusiasm, and sometimes, a sense of dread that tightens around my gut.
My relationship with co-workers is a balancing act between camaraderie and competition. Sharing a joke over coffee, I can feel a transient sense of community, almost like a refuge in the war-like landscape of spreadsheets and deadlines. Yet, the same folks become rivals in meetings, where ideas clash like titans, and the air thickens with palpable tension. Despite the fleeting joy of teamwork, there’s always an undertone of territorialism—every project is a new battlefield, every success a claim to a limited pool of resources and recognition.
Upper management hovers in the background like Olympian gods, aloof and capricious. Interactions with them are always tinged with a kind of pondering anxiety; their judgments can either elevate me to corporate’s awareness or relegate me to professional obscurity. Their emails arrive like thunderbolts, their pronouncements set the tone for our collective mood—invigorated or deflated and many times blurred between.
My boss, the intermediary between the divine and the mortal, wields enormous power over my daily emotional state. A word of appreciation feels like a shot of adrenaline; a critical comment lingers like an ache, gnawing away at my self-esteem. The complex matrix of my boss’s expectations and my own ambition is a riddle I’m perennially trying to solve.
There’s a constant tug-of-war between my personal integrity and the shifting ethical landscape of corporate requirements. I’ve faced moral dilemmas that force me to question the line between loyalty and ethical conduct. Do I voice my concerns about a project’s viability and risk being labeled a naysayer, or stay quiet to maintain my image as a team player?
Navigating these emotional complexities is draining but inevitable. In this microcosm of human interaction, I’m not just earning my livelihood, I’m also constantly learning the art of emotional survival.