Posts tagged as:

Quality of Life

The Tim Commandments

February 24, 2010

Dis­claimer: I got the idea for this post from Gretchen Rubin’s per­sonal com­mand­ments –which she shares in her Hap­pi­ness Project. I learned so much doing my Life List that I fig­ured I have a go at this as well. (As for the title, I couldn’t resist.)

These ‘’com­mand­ments’’ are actu­ally just reminders to myself of the big real­iza­tions I’ve had about how to keep myself happy and mov­ing forward.

1) A clear target

Take time to con­sider what the ulti­mate sit­u­a­tion would be for me and the peo­ple I care about. I prob­a­bly do this 4 or 5 times a week and it’s actu­ally not an easy task. It IS easy to cop-out and say, “mega-rich on a trop­i­cal island,’’ but that’s not what I really want.

I try to clar­ify what my days will be like when I’ve finally arrived in my ideal sit­u­a­tion. I want to be able to read the news­pa­per, eat­ing fruit, in a sunny place. I want to have bril­liant friends who I spend a lot of time with. I want to learn a lot every day, as a part of my job. Plus about 50 other things. I think the clearer I can be about pre­cisely where I’d like to end up, the more likely I’ll get there.

2) Some­thing every day

I try to take at least a small step for­ward, toward my ulti­mate lifestyle, every day. I put some­thing on my To Do list every day that will pre­pare me for that sit­u­a­tion (I work on a lad­der), to make sure I’m mov­ing toward that target.

3) Appre­ci­ate it

Just like at Thanks­giv­ing, take a moment to think of some­thing you’re grate­ful for. It’ll remind you of how far you’ve come and that, while not every­thing is always per­fect, you’re life is mostly pretty good. As my mom used to say on cold win­ter nights, “be thank­ful that we have a nice warm place to live.” Or as Socrates said, “He is the rich­est who is con­tent with the least.”

4) Speak up

I’ve had to learn this les­son a few times in my life –that I need to share my ideas. I need to put my ideas into the world for a few rea­sons. First, it’s a way to real­ize what I know and to push my think­ing (to be con­struc­tive). It’s also a way to con­nect with peo­ple, to build com­mu­nity. The last time I real­ized this in a big way was my first trip to Aus­tralia. There peo­ple expect you to have a story to tell. I found I was so used to being a lis­tener that I didn’t know how to tell my stories.

5) Make it a good day

Even on good days, I try to think of one thing that could make the day a lit­tle bet­ter. If it’s stop­ping at the store and buy­ing some candy to eat, that’s okay. What­ever can make it a lit­tle hap­pier okay. Get­ting into my paja­mas early also makes me hap­pier. The point is that, for me, tak­ing each day as a project works.

6) Sleep on rice

This one comes from a story I heard of a poor immi­grant man who slept on rice (with his long­suf­fer­ing wife) in the back room. He did this for year so that he could save money. Even when he had saved enough to move into an apart­ment, he didn’t. He con­tin­ued to make sac­ri­fices until he could buy the store. I’m always inspired by sto­ries of peo­ple who have worked harder than they had to, so they could achieve uncom­mon ends.

Did you enjoy this arti­cle? Sub­scribe for free by RSS or email and you’ll always know when I pub­lish some­thing new.  (What’s RSS?)

{ 0 comments }

camera

Find­ing a way to be artis­tic can add tremen­dously to your qual­ity of life.

For most of us, much of our active time every day is dom­i­nated by task-completion-activities, things that aren’t par­tic­u­larly mean­ing­ful or impor­tant to us, but just have to get done. Cre­ative prac­tice is about mak­ing a time for meaning.

Here are some ben­e­fits of a cre­ative prac­tice: (Any­where where I’ve writ­ten ‘writ­ing’ feel free to sub­sti­tute any other kind of artis­tic activity).

1) To be hap­pier. Aristotle’s def­i­n­i­tion of hap­pi­ness is “deploy­ing your full force along lines of excel­lence.” Writ­ing allows you to do exactly that. It’s about dis­ci­pline and see­ing some­thing through. And I do find it makes me hap­pier, feel­ing a piece come to form. As Hugh Macleod says, “Every­body has their own pri­vate Mount Ever­est they were put on this earth to climb.”

2) To learn. Peo­ple always say, “Write what you know,” but writ­ing is always a process of dis­cov­ery. By writ­ing you’re not just doc­u­ment­ing what you already know, but you’re coming-to-know things you hadn’t yet realized.

3) It’s good for your career. Before I was hired for my most recent job I was Googled by my inter­view­ers. They men­tioned in my inter­view that they’d read by blog about Roger Fed­erer and were impressed. I could tell that they were more com­fort­able with me because they had some evi­dence of how my mind works. In a way, they knew me. It made me more of a known entity and slightly less of a risk. I don’t write my blog for the recog­ni­tion. But it’s nice.

4) To be gen­er­ous. When you share your art, you’re being gen­er­ous. Even the tini­est, hon­est obser­va­tion is a gift. (That’s what I think any­way). And gift-giving cre­ates com­mu­nity. If you share some­thing that peo­ple can read (or  look at and see truth in) that, if noth­ing else, is com­fort­ing to peo­ple.  Also by writ­ing, you put your­self out there. You make your­self a lit­tle vul­ner­a­ble. You show that you’re human and peo­ple appre­ci­ate that.

5) To keep a record. I sit in air­ports and cafes around the world, writ­ing mun­dane minor details about how the light is shin­ing in through the steam of my morn­ing cof­fee or about how the smell of saw­dust takes me back to my dad’s stu­dio above the garage on Sec­ond Street.  Tak­ing the moment to write these thoughts makes me aware of things I wouldn’t oth­er­wise notice. It helps me appre­ci­ate the moment, in the moment. And read­ing my notes later reminds me of the life I’m liv­ing. It shows me what I like about my life and explains, in lit­tle ways, how my life is com­ing together. Cather­ine Bowen said that, “Writ­ing … is not apart from liv­ing. Writ­ing is a kind of dou­ble liv­ing. The writer expe­ri­ences every­thing twice. Once in real­ity and once in that mir­ror which waits always before or behind.”

6) To stay bal­anced. We all want jobs that value our human­ness. But it’s okay for a job to just be a job. It doesn’t have to fill absolutely every void in our lives. Hugh MacLeod (in his ebook) shares what he calls his Sex and Cash The­ory. He explains it like this: “The cre­ative per­son basi­cally has two kinds of jobs. One is the sexy, cre­ative kind. Sec­ond is the kind that pays the bills. Some­times the task in hand cov­ers both bases, but not often. This tense dual­ity will always play cen­ter stage. It will never be tran­scended.” This the­ory sug­gests that it’s okay that your col­leagues value your ideas about life or appre­ci­ate your humour, because it’s just a job. In a way, it’s a good prob­lem, I find that the ten­sions from my work­ing life give me some­thing to write about. They feed my art. A few times, when I finally have no dis­trac­tions and all the time in the world to write, I draw a blank.

7) It feels good. Author Natalie Gold­berg com­pares her cre­ative prac­tice with exer­cise: “Some days you don’t want to run and you resist every step of the three miles, but you do it any­way. You prac­tice whether you want to or not. You don’t wait around for inspi­ra­tion and a deep desire to run… You just do it. And in the mid­dle of the run, you love it. When you come to the end, you never want to stop… That’s how writ­ing is, too. Once you’re deep into it, you won­der what took you so long to finally set­tle down at the desk.”

In more ways than one, the future belongs to the cre­ative classes, the peo­ple who have devel­oped a voice and have both­ered to share.

{ 6 comments }

Scientific RecipeThe traits of suc­cess­ful peo­ple is a sub­ject that has intrigued us since at least the 1930s. That was the era when Dale Carnegie founded self-improvement indus­try (which now worth $11 Bil­lion per year in the US alone); it was also in the late 1930s that a group of social sci­en­tists qui­etly began the ambi­tious Grant study explor­ing the lives of 268 Harvard-educated men.

Sixty years later (the study still going strong) they have basi­cally given up hope of dis­cov­er­ing the secret recipe of great­ness which they were after. (They also didn’t achieve their other lofty aim of eas­ing “the dishar­mony of the world at large.”) How­ever, they have at least iden­ti­fied seven pri­mary fac­tors that pre­dict healthy (phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal) liv­ing and aging. They are: get­ting an edu­ca­tion; hav­ing a sta­ble mar­riage; not smok­ing; employ­ing “mature adap­ta­tions;” not abus­ing alco­hol;  hav­ing some exer­cise and main­tain­ing a healthy weight.

All of these strike me as sur­pris­ingly sim­ple, straight-forward and action­able rec­om­men­da­tions –all but the one. Chal­leng­ing is the con­cept of “adap­ta­tions,” which the study has explored. Adap­ta­tions are the defence mech­a­nisms that peo­ple use to respond psy­cho­log­i­cally to chal­lenges in life:

Vail­lant explains defenses as the men­tal equiv­a­lent of a basic bio­log­i­cal process. When we cut our­selves, for exam­ple, our blood clots—a swift and invol­un­tary response that main­tains home­osta­sis. Sim­i­larly, when we encounter a chal­lenge large or small—a mother’s death or a bro­ken shoelace—our defenses float us through the emo­tional swamp. And just as clot­ting can save us from bleed­ing to death—or plug a coro­nary artery and lead to a heart attack—defenses can spell our redemp­tion or ruin. […]

The health­i­est, or “mature,” adap­ta­tions include altru­ism, humor, antic­i­pa­tion (look­ing ahead and plan­ning for future dis­com­fort), sup­pres­sion (a con­scious deci­sion to post­pone atten­tion to an impulse or con­flict, to be addressed in good time), and sub­li­ma­tion (find­ing out­lets for feel­ings, like putting aggres­sion into sport, or lust into courtship). (The Atlantic arti­cle is avail­able here.)

{ 5 comments }

Photo by PippoWasHere

I love talk­ing to peo­ple about their aspi­ra­tions. I really do. But there is a dark side to goals and what we often think of as “motivation.”

I have a lot of goals. Last week I con­fessed that I wanted to be a doc­tor, a pilot, a CEO, and a Sen­a­tor before I die. I admit that I was at the pub at the time. But I am sure that I will likely not do any of these things. I don’t have a prob­lem with this though. I like list­ing these as goals anyway.

The prob­lem I have with goals is some­thing dif­fer­ent. I have a prob­lem with their power.

Grow­ing up I learned a lot form moti­va­tional speak­ers like Tony Rob­bins and Steven Covey. I learned from them that:

  • Any­thing I wanted to achieve, if I really wanted it and I was will­ing to sac­ri­fice what­ever was nec­es­sary, I could achieve. For this rea­son they say quite rightly that the hard­est part of achiev­ing some­thing should come in the decision-making, right at the begin­ning. When you under­stand the power of goals, you real­ize not to set them lightly.

Many peo­ple go wrong by set­ting too few goals. Many peo­ple under­es­ti­mate them­selves and there­fore set goals half-heartedly.

But for those who have con­fi­dence in them­selves and set chal­leng­ing goals, there is a  hid­den dangers.

Tun­nel Vision

Focus on one thing, necessitates less focus on other things. Busi­nesses expe­ri­ence this all the time. A recent Boston Globe arti­cle dis­cussed how Gen­eral Motors’ fail­ure was partly the result of com­pany goal set­ting. All of GM doggedly focused on regain­ing the 29% mar­ket share they had once held. Focus­ing on this meant they ignored prof­its. They slashed sales prices when they should have cut costs. Every­thing became about achiev­ing the almighty 29%. So, part of the power of goals is that they are non-reasonable. Once agreed the goal itself becomes the rea­son. Naysay­ers at GM (and there must have been a few) weren’t heard because by ques­tion­ing the goal they seemed to be talk­ing nonsense.

I had a friend who was so obsessed with her goals that she seemed to be run­ning on autopi­lot. It got in the way of her see­ing other pos­si­bil­i­ties, much like what hap­pened at GM.

Don’t get me wrong. Goals can be great. And I really do want to achieve every­thing I can list, that I might enjoy. I would like to gain every pos­si­ble skill. I would love to  speak Span­ish for exam­ple. And maybe one day you’ll find me per­form­ing surgery on a fel­low Sen­ta­tor, in Spain, while fly­ing. Maybe.

{ 4 comments }

Money is an emo­tional thing for most of us. I’ve met wealthy peo­ple who still felt they didn’t have enough and rel­a­tively poor peo­ple who embar­rassed me with their gen­eros­ity. Cer­tain atti­tudes toward money seem almost hard-wired into people.

There are few ways you can find out which money per­son­al­ity type you have. There is this arti­cle and this one and this one which are all inter­est­ing But the most insight­ful might be this one, writ­ten by psy­chol­o­gist Kath­leen Gurney.

Atti­tudes toward money seem to be influ­enced by how we grow up (see Born to Rebel ). Brent Kissel (in this arti­cle) says that, “our early expe­ri­ences with money cause us to cling uncon­sciously to spe­cific strate­gies to feel secure and happy about our finan­cial deci­sions.” Fair enough. But I can hear some sub­tle bias here against risk-adverse types, those who play it safe. Is such a bias fair?

Cer­tainly, I would like all of us to be rich some day soon. And I’m com­fort­able with my atti­tude toward money. (We are pretty involved in try­ing to build some invest­ments and our strat­egy seems to be work­ing so far. Fin­gers crossed.) And I think we can all agree that risk tak­ing gen­er­ally leads to increased wealth. But does this mean that every­one should be tak­ing risks? It seems as soon as we look at it as a Qual­ity of Life ques­tion it’s not so straightforward.

Kath­leen Gur­ney has some good advice here. She says that peo­ple make the best use of their money when they are aware of how to con­struc­tively use their per­sonal assets and work with their own style of money management.

Update: If you’d like to learn more about invest­ing you might try The Mot­ley Fool.

{ 1 comment }