Staying Hungry

Some of us learn to say “no,” at an early age. We learn to say it gently, firmly, angrily, assertively and when it’s right to use each tone of voice. Others of us, most of us as a matter of fact, grow up co-dependent, afraid to say “no,” even when it’s obviously, overwhelmingly in our best interest to do so.

After years of believing I had learned to say “No,” I learned this week that I didn’t really. And with each reluctant, “Okay, or “Yes,” I uttered - I became more and more depressed. I said “Yes,” believing I was saying it to help, when I was really saying it to please. Then a client referred me to Byron Katie, and the light bulb went on!! I listened to a wonderful podcast - an interview with her by the “Get it Done Guy,” Stever Robbins.

One of the points she makes that I like SO well is that when you say “No,” out of integrity, you say “Yes,” to yourself and “Yes,” to better possibilities for the person you’re dealing with. Go to her blog to hear the podcast - a valuable 27 minutes of your time and well worth the listen.

Of all the speakers and articles I’ve heard or read, she really hit the mark for me with the simplicity and graciousness with how she says no. I would feel her love and concern for me even through the disappointment of a no from her!

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Transformation

There are four, no five seedlings that have actually sprung up from the watermelon seeds I planted last week. Pale green, they languished in a tiny yellow pot in my bathroom - the only light from the tiny window above the tub, until I actually noticed they were growing! So I moved them to the living room, where there is usually more light. But the day I moved them, it rained. And it rained the next day and the next. But they kept growing anyway - with only a little more light than they had in the dark bathroom.

Which makes me think - maybe we don’t need the best conditions either. Maybe we do just as well when we use what we have and wait for better days.

Patty Newbold, one of my wisest of wise friends, and I talked about this concept today - that people and things learn to cope in spite of less than ideal circumstances and actually do better when they learn and train that way.

She pointed out that there are some studies and evidence that maybe depressed people and psychologists are doing it all wrong. They’re waiting until someone is no longer depressed to teach them how to deal with life. Maybe, she said, they need to be taught how to deal with life in the same way the Army teaches soldiers to be sharpshooters.

The Army gets their soldiers exhausted and loopy from lack of sleep, too much hard work, exhaustion and lack of food. They’re at their lowest point physically and mentally. They’re barely able to function.  They can’t think straight and they can’t shoot. That -  she said - is when they teach them how to shoot. Because THAT is how they’ll feel and what the conditions will be like when they are in a war and actually need to be shooting. Anyone can shoot when conditions are perfect. It’s when they’re not perfect that we need to learn how to operate.

So maybe, she said. Maybe the best time to learn how to write when you’re depressed, or deal with life when you’re depressed, is to write and deal when you’re actually depressed. Maybe now, when things are the darkest, and the most depressing and nothing is going right - it’s actually the best time to be writing and making hard decisions. So I thought about that - and it’s 2 a.m. and I’m still thinking about that.

My seedlings, I’m sure, didn’t think about whether or not they wouldn’t grow much in low light. They just grew. They had enough light to grow as much as they could grow. They didn’t refuse to grow because it was raining outside and there wasn’t much light and maybe they’d wait for a sunnier day. They just did what they did with what they had. When the sun comes out tomorrow, maybe they’ll grow more, their paleness will turn darker green as the sun does its thing and so on. The important thing is, they’re becoming watermelons one day, one quarter-inch at a time. Some days will be sunnier and better and they’ll grow more - but they won’t stop just because it stops being sunny. So like a sharpshooter - and a watermelon seedling - I can do the same - train in the rain.

How about you? Are you “training in the rain?”

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Until April 2007, Ruth was a normal busy professional mom of 8 children–obsessed with her career.  She worked hard and reached the pinnacle of success (or so she said she thought at the time). She became a Chief Financial Officer for a large nonprofit,  loved her job, but put in extraordinarily long hours which meant less time for her husband and kids.  But the tradeoffs were great.  Ruth said “We were living the American dream—plenty of money in the bank, a nice home, nice cars (even an RV and Goldwing motorcycle), the kids had every gaming system that came out, the list goes on and on.”

But then tragedy struck. Ruth said:

“Our perfect little American dream came crashing down around us when our 21-year old son accidentally overdosed on acetaminophen.  Over a 5 day period, we watched as he was snatched away from us so prematurely.  However, the shock caused us to reevaluate the way we were living our lives.  Material possessions no longer mattered as much, all we wanted to do was spend time with our children.  We found ourselves anxious when we were at work, and our youngest children (aged 8 and 9 at the time) started experiencing problems at school because they couldn’t shake the feeling we might not come home that night.

“We started making changes gradually—first by working out a deal with my employer to allow me to work from home so I could home-school the kids for the last few months of the school year.  The following September, we enrolled them in a charter school that several of their friends were attending, and tried to go back to our old lives.  I continued to work fewer hours in the office which allowed me to spend more time with the kids, but we found it wasn’t enough.  By December, we not only decided to home-school full-time but to move back to my hometown, where most of my family lived, that following summer.

“It wasn’t easy.  My husband was lucky enough to find a telecommuting position with his employer, but I ultimately had to resign from my position because my employer really needed someone in the office.  I tried to find another job closer to our new home, but the economy was already starting to slide so I decided to focus on my QuickBooks consulting practice which I’d started back in 1996 so I could work from home until my kids started kindergarten.  There were moments when we were terrified about our decision—would we be able to survive on just my husband’s salary and, more importantly, were we hurting our kids by moving away from the only home they’ve ever known?

“It’s now been nearly two years after our son died, and even though we miss him terribly we have to admit our lives are better now in so many ways.  My business is thriving—I even continue doing remote consulting for my former employer.  In fact, I now make much more money than I ever did as an employee.  More importantly, I now spend 24  hours a day, 7 days a week with my husband and children.  This might drive some people crazy, but I’ve never seen our kids happier or more secure.

“I guess you can say this is our son’s last gift to us—he opened our eyes to what was really important…before it was too late.”

* * *

I understand Ruth’s sadness and joy at awakening. In one of my last conversations with my father before he died from brain cancer, I asked him - “Do you have any regrets?” He said “A few, the biggest one being that I didn’t travel and do more fun things. I planned to do that when I retired and now I won’t get to.”

It wasn’t that we didn’t try to drag him off. I sure did. My constant whine growing up was, “We never have any fun. We’re always working.” And indeed we were. He kept busy at the office, but he kept us busy at home as well - working on the house, cleaning, mowing, painting. It was a work ethic distilled into me early and I became a dutiful “Type A” - although I did take summers off to camp and bum around the country, it didn’t last long and I never got enough “fun.” I don’t mean partying and drinking. I mean having friends and relaxing, tending to relationships and enjoying life. Now I’m trying to do that. Like Ruth, I know what the important things in life are - and now that my immediate family is pretty much gone - friends and travel beckon. And here I sit - trying to decide what to do, knowing what to do, and planning to do it. How about you? What are you doing to enjoy the gift of life, love and friends?

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I spent the better part of the day yesterday clearing off my computer hard drive. I uploaded photos, thousands of them, to a photo site I use. I deleted duplicate documents, trashed stuff I wouldn’t use any more - shredded all those funny, but old movie clips, jokes and spam mails and then wiped it all out with the empty secure trash command. Gone.

I freed up about 30 gigs of space. My computer runs faster. It’s not crashing every hour - only a couple of times a day now. It’s spring cleaning. I also spent an hour in prayer/meditation - releasing a lot of other garbage - grudges, bad feelings, resentments, losses, petty arguments. And tonight - I too feel better. Over the weekend I tackled the kitchen and all those duplicate but worthless lidless storage things. I ruthlessly attacked the closet - boxing up clothes for a soon-to-be yard sale. I shredded boxes of old notes and papers. In my living room right now - waiting for trash day so I don’t have to hike it all around to the back of the house to the trash - are NINE bags of shredded paper trash and two or three more of other crap.

I feel the chi (energy) moving already. I still have several rooms to tackle and dozens of more boxes and another closet or two to sweep through. But it’s a start.

If you’re into spring cleaning - don’t stop at the house. Think computer, think emotions, think head and heart and soul as well. This is a holy week. What better time to forgive and move on.

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A friend of mine is mad at a family member of hers. She has been for 10 years. He embarrassed her at a family function and she’s never forgiven  him, and doesn’t plan to until he apologizes. I told her today that some people won’t ever apologize, some people aren’t capable of apologizing, and some people’s apologies aren’t even apologies and worthless and meaningless anyway.

After being blindsided by someone on a social media site I belong to I wanted an apology. I’m not going to get it, but yesterday I realized it didn’t matter - for all the reasons above. It must be God’s way of confirming what I figured out yesterday to get to explain it to someone else today.

The ONLY reason for an apology is to “clear the decks” so the relationship can get back on track. That’s it. Period. Forgiveness of someone is so WE can get past an incident, drop the baggage and move on with our lives. Forgiveness doesn’t need anybody but us. An apology involves TWO people. Why? Because apologies are for when you WANT to preserve or work on the relationship. If you don’t care - or the relationship is toast anyway - an apology doesn’t matter. One or both people are saying, “I’m not happy, it hurt, but I’m willing to work on what we have and get past it.”

If they’re not willing to apologize - they’re not interested in you or the relationship. So bail out, forgive them (that’s another post) and get on with your life.

I realized after repeated public postings and making myself vulnerable, expressing my hurt etc. that there was never going to be an apology from this person. NOT only is she incapable of an apology, she has no desire to pursue the friendship and an apology at this point would be superficial and meaningless. Why? Because now, after all that - I no longer have any desire for the connection.

I explained this to my friend and she’s thinking about it. She’s not ready to write him off. She still wants the apology. But this time she’s trying a different tack - she’s being honest about how it made her feel, how it hurt her, how he’s someone she wants to be friends with. Knowing them both - I’m pretty sure he’ll apologize - even if he doesn’t even remember what he did or said. He’ll do it because he values the relationship more than being right, or being funny at her expense.

So next time YOU’RE wanting an apology or reluctant to apologize because you don’t want to be wrong or feel shame - remember the question isn’t about if you’re right or wrong in that moment. It’s about if the RELATIONSHIP is important.

To those whom it wasn’t important to for me - have a nice life. I have a feeling it will be a rough one - filled with pain, but I wish you well…and…

I forgive you.

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I love a good thunderstorm. I was never afraid of them until I was camping on a ridge almost at timberline in the Great Smoky Mountains. A “War of the Worlds” category five thunderstorm blew up and all that stood between me and it was a nylon tent. I headed for a stand of boulders to be closer to anything taller than I was. Within five minutes of my arrival and my huddling on a flat rock with my poncho draped over me, lightning hit. The “Boom!” was tremendous, and the impact only about 30 or 40 yards from where I squatted. I knew it was coming. I smelled it and all the hair - even the wet strands - stood on end right before it hit. It was an indescribable feeling - a cross between knowing you’re going to die and not being too worried because you know it won’t hurt - it’ll be over that fast.

The strike split a tall tree down the path from where I had just come a couple hours earlier and where I had considered pitching my tent because it “was safer.” But I wanted to see the stars so I had climbed higher. I was glad I had. Scared to death, but alive. And after the storm passed and the sky cleared I rolled myself up in my soggy sleeping bag and a tarp, and shivered, watching the stars come out and even more thrilled to be seeing them after the storm.

Being a heretic is a lot like that. You see what is safe, what is “best,” but the stars beckon and you answer. Some nights the storm breaks and the lightning flashes and someone or something gets hurt. I’ve been lucky that most of my life the strikes haven’t been as powerful as the one that split the tree. Because I do stand out with word and deed, I attract lightning.

Being around me - or any heretic - means sometimes getting hit with those strikes, or sometimes seeing a near miss. So, unless you share the heretic’s fascination with danger and possibility, chances are you aren’t going to hang out in the heretic tribe.

Everyone wants to BE a heretic because they’re considered “edgy, sexy, cutting edge, brilliant” and so on - AFTER the fact, after they’ve become millionaires, or after they’ve made a medical break-through. But not all heretics become famous. Many of them just become a pain in the ass. That doesn’t mean they aren’t changing their worlds - they are.

Ask anyone who works with a heretic and they’ll tell you they hate us a lot of the time. Or, if they don’t hate us, they hate how we are - unpredictable, offensive, opinionated, uncontrollable, untame-able, and blunt. Heretics can be generous, fun-loving, curious, unfocused and playful too - because they don’t obey all the rules and they enjoy having fun. They are - by their very nature - creatures who create their own path and often a path others chose to follow as well. Sometimes the path building is easy, or inspiring. Sometimes the number of followers is so great a heretic need merely point to the horizon and the tribe will trample the path almost effortlessly in their rush to get there.

But there are more times when people say, “Can’t you stop? Can’t you change? Can’t you keep your mouth shut? Can”t you get along to go along? Can’t you ignore it? Can’t you say something positive? Can’t you, can’t you, can’t you????”

No. We can’t. You can’t ask a bull to give up it’s reaction to a red cape or a sword in its side. The very thing that makes a bull a symbol of machismo and aggression and courage, also makes it dangerous.

Heretics are the spark, not the engine. They create paths, they don’t maintain them. They challenge, annoy, test, push and disagree because that is their nature. To have a “socially acceptable” and well-behaved, predictable heretic is to not have a heretic but a eunuch. Heretics are hated because they are loose cannons. They see and experience and crave a different world. They think differently, react, respond and reply to stimuli differently. THEY SEE DIFFERENTLY. But it’s NOT a choice. It’s innate.

And if you don’t get that - you’ll both love and hate them, benefit from them and be hurt by them. It’s not calculated. It just is.The most amazing thing happened last week when I had this conversation with a friend. Once, she said, she began to be honest with herself and to strip away the lies she told herself about how important it was to be polite and to be liked - even at the cost of sacrificing her standards, she began to understand me more.

She began to think like a heretic (not respecting the status quo), and her co-workers began to see her as a heretic. She lost friends for giving her honest, and unpopular opinion about what changes need to take place in her job because seeing something that needed to change for the better became more important than being liked. As she feels more empowered she is more dissatisfied with her position. It’s what honesty will do for you. If you will work through the storm, and the strikes, the discomfort, the pain, the uncertainty - you emerge a better person for having seen the stars - as dangerous as it might have felt.

So yes. Heretics are hated for a reason - we upset the status quo. We say things, think things, and point out the uncomfortable truth. We don’t always do it in a comfortable or timely way. But we do it. And as much as you may hate us - for that - you should be grateful. We DO change the world.

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I’ve shared close quarters and even closer business partnerships with some pretty stranger folks in my life. But, I have to admit this hen and puppy picture beats any mutually beneficial arrangement I ever had. As I’m working on my book proposal one of the qualities I’m expounding on is tolerance. It’s not on the usual list of entrepreneurial or success traits that I’ve seen, but it’s a critical element for both.

Why? Well, because by “bedfellows,” we mean people that we are - by need or design, close to, intimate with even. We share SOMETHING in common - or we wouldn’t be rubbing elbows. That “something” may be all we share, but it’s important that we recognize that that something is pretty critical or we’d be looking elsewhere for it.

I hope that makes sense. For instance… as a security guard in an old paper warehouse in Denver in the 80’s, I worked the graveyard shift. It meant wandering around in the bowels of the paper plant alone, at night, with the rats. I don’t mean mice. I mean rats. I had to stoop to traverse leaky old pipes, slog through puddles and walk through piles of shredded paper and cardboard. Me and the rats. Ugh. I could hear them squealing and running and falling or leaping off of bales of paper as I trekked along on my hourly rounds. The only thing worse than the rats were the spiders. I soon learned to bang on the metal door with my flashlight before I entered each room. It gave them fair warning and I didn’t worry about them falling onto my neck or head from the overhead pipes.

After several weeks of this, one night I didn’t hear them. No snuffling, squeaking or rustling of paper. No thump, thump, thump as they hit the floor in a panic to escape. Just silence. It meant that someone else had already been through ahead of me - and had already scared them off. It took me a bit to figure that out - like about three minutes later when I rounded the corner and found a work crew no one had told me about. It scared me to walk up on them unexpectedly - and frightened them as well, but ever after that I learned to appreciate the rats. They were my signal that I was alone on the hundreds of acres of empty factory. They were my “strange bedfellows.” We shared space in a way that benefited us both I suppose.

As the world changes, economies shift and resources tighten or disappear, being able to recognize, utilize and capitalize on “strange bedfellows,” is almost a necessity. We no longer have the luxury of picking and choosing the company, the person or the opportunity we might fire on all cylinders with. Finding a common need is a way to do several things:

Extend our capabilities
Extend our network
Open ourselves to new ideas, approaches and markets
Learn tolerance
See need, purpose and design differently than we might otherwise have
Appreciate the smallest, most seemingly insignificant or important things in our world.

There are more benefits I’m sure. But those stand out for me right now. I hope you can think of opportunities in your life where “a strange bedfellow,” is or has been a blessing in disguise. Even if that disguise is a rat, you never know how valuable their contribution may be.

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On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog” is an adage which began as the caption of a Peter Steiner cartoon published by ”The New Yorker” on July 4, 1993. Since then the cartoon has taken on a life of its own - like the “smiley face” in a way.  The cartoon shows two dogs: One sitting on a chair in front of a computer, speaking the caption to a second dog sitting on the floor. As of 2000 it was the most published cartoon ever from The New Yorker. No, I don’t have the headline to my post wrong.

"On the internet no one knows you're a dog."

What’s funny about Peter’s cartoon - on several levels, is how people can BE anyone they want to be, and many a tech savvy teenager has passed for an adult in venues where they’d never gain entrance in person. Yet the reverse is true as well - if your tech skills, your writing, your keyboard and dissociative social skills aren’t up to par people may indeed MISTAKE YOU FOR A DOG!

So while men can pretend to be women, and women can pretend to be girls and everyone can pretend to be pretty much anyone  and no one much notices - I noticed something. People don’t notice that some of those folks they’re meeting are disabled and may be mistaken for “dogs.” (in the slang term meaning “not pretty or desirable,”)

I don’t mean disabled as in a wheelchair, although they may be. I mean many of the folks I interact with have mental disabilities, depression, cancer, age issues diabetes, chronic fatigue syndrome and a variety of illnesses that should become invisible on the internet - but don’t. Because while hiding your looks, or your status, or your accent or gender online is fairly simple, hiding your disability, your lack of skills, your age or other challenges is often not so easy.

From the speed of typing, to the age or other challenges, disabilities are often hard to hide. I teach basic computer skills at a local college (volunteer) a couple of times a month. Those attending are in their 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. They are determined to learn to get online. Most are men. Unlike their sons or grandsons who can type 100 words per minute with their thumbs, they never learned to type. So they hunt and peck. As a result, their blog posts and their infrequent emails tend to be rather short. More time is spent hunting for the keys than thinking about what and how they want to say what they have to say.

As a result their communications are terse, and not the sort of compelling prose they speak in person. On the internet, no one knows what kind, gentle, generous souls they are. On the internet, no one hears their laughter, or their jokes or sees their smiles. I have learned to encourage them to be upfront with their shortcomings - to make a joke - so they let those reading their posts understand their limitations.

“In real life I’m a real chatter-box. But I don’t type as fast as I talk,” I urge them to tell folks when they first come online. Maybe I’m helping, maybe I’m doing them a disservice. I just know when I talk to someone and they sound a little odd, hearing, “I’m sorry, I had chemo today,” or “I’m sorry, I have some medical issues and today is not a good day,” make all the difference in the world to me. I should be patient because I have my days too - with my chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia flare-ups there are times I can’t remember what I wanted to say, or I sound out of it myself!

“I’m okay!!” I want to shout

“I just didn’t get the 30-hours sleep I needed last night!”

This has been one of those weeks for me. I worry that I haven’t posted every day, or that I’ve slept more than I’ve been awake. Then this afternoon a friend recovering from another round of chemo wrote to apologize for not answering an email I sent a few days ago.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Lying in bed listening to the rain on the roof all week has just been so much more relaxing than answering email.”

I know exactly what she meant.

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The night before the cranes leave it’s quiet there. Only the sound of the wind blowing through dry leaves and the murmur of conversation drifts down the road. If you didn’t know there were 19 endangered whooping cranes hidden away under a dark netting on a far hillside, nothing would give them away - except the four ultralight aircraft lined up against the fence line. For this Kentucky farm has a secret.

One night a year it is host to some of the most incredible birds in the world - the endangered whooping crane. There are fewer than 500 in existence now - not many, but up from only 14 just half a century ago. Overcrowding, hunting and environmental factors have killed off the birds, but concentrated efforts by a handful of dedicated individuals are bringing them back. And in the worldwide scheme of things, this Civil War era farm is fortunate enough to have them grace the ground and the skies - for 48 hours once a year.

As a journalist and freelance writer I’ve had some once in a lifetime opportunities to photograph amazing things. This was one of my most memorable. One of the most amazing things is that these birds don’t know the way home when they’re born. The ultra-lites are their “mothers” who lead them there after they hatch. The way home has to be imprinted upon them. Someone has to “show them,” the way. But then, it becomes part of them forever.

Persistence, determination, grit - we may all be born with the potential and for some, it just comes naturally - but for many of us - just like these cranes, we need a little help - someone to show us the way, to be a guide - one that expects us to get there under our own power - but who is willing to lead the way. And just like these birds, as they get closer to “home” they often sense it and take the lead themselves.

Sometimes we lead, sometimes we follow. But do one or the other - don’t just sit there!

For more information on whooping cranes and on Operation Migration - or to donate to this worthy cause or to purchase or view other photos of these magnificent birs, go to http://www.operationmigration.org. (c) Photos by Becky Blanton. All rights reserved

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“No one lives long enough to learn everything they need to learn starting from scratch. To be successful, we absolutely, positively have to find people who have already paid the price to learn the things that we need to learn to achieve our goals.”

-Brian Tracy

I had lunch with Ed Brenegar yesterday. It was the first time I’ve ever met him in person. We met online over the Johnny Bunko competition, and I had invited him to join Triiibes.com. We’d spoken over the phone and emailed a lot, but hadn’t met. So, for more than four hours Ed and I and another business acquanitance met and talked about leadership, ideas and community. Then over coffee afterwards, Ed and I talked about our books and the thoughts and motivations behind them. The day pounded home for me, the foundation of both of our ideas - “Say Thank You Every Day,” and “Stay Hungry.”

It was amazing. The future just got better for us both, and more importantly, for all those who know us. Why?

Because collaboration spreads ideas.

A little background. Best selling author Daniel Pink wrote a business book entitled, “Johnny Bunko,” a great story about the six career lessons a fictional character called Johnny Bunko learns through a strange set of magical chopsticks and told in manga (comic book) fashion. Pink didn’t actually “end” the book, but left it open enough that readers got the idea more books would follow. Sure enough - others are in the works.

But Pink wanted reader’s input - so he asked fans to submit their ideas for the “seventh lesson.”  Of the hundreds who submitted ideas, Ed’s and mine were two of the three finalists chosen. Pink posted the finalists on his website and Johnny Bunko fans were asked to vote on their favorite “lesson.” The winner, ie. the one with the most votes, would win an all-expense paid trip to Oxford, England for the 2009 Global TED conference. Shortly after voting began I Googled Ed’s name to find out if he had a blog, and to learn more about his idea. When I found and read his blog I was so taken with his ideas I invited him to join Triiibes.com - a social network I belong to. He did.

Ed stayed ahead in the voting for weeks. He had a great lesson and I had asked my readers and friends not to vote for me, but to vote for the “best idea.” I didn’t want this to simply be a popularity contest, but a way to ensure the “best idea/lesson” truly won. For weeks, “Say Thank You Every Day,” was the winning idea. I assumed it meant the best idea was winning. But two weeks before the contest ended, I got serious about asking more people to vote, and eventually I began to pull ahead. For the last week of the competition Ed and I were neck and neck in the voting.

Then the next to last day of the contest,  Seth Godin stepped in from out of the blue and asked his readers to vote for me and for “Staying Hungry.” Within hours the vote went from 40 and 41% to my lead of 72%.  And I won.

What made the experience remarkable, and not just another competition, was that Ed and I reached out and connected over ideas. He joined my tribe and we became members on the same team. What was supposed to be a “competition,” became a collaboration. The ideas each of us had outside the competition were bigger than simply the Johnny Bunko lessons.  The people who followed each of us, who supported and encouaged and voted for each of us, those who helped me create a comic book for the competition, they all became swept up to some degree or another - in both the contest and in Ed and mine’s connection. It really made me realize, that from Triiibes, Ed, voters, Seth - none of it would have happened for me without the involvement of other people.

No man, or woman, is an island. No one is truly “self-made.” We all have help - maybe not from parents, or family, but certainly from people - great, small, known or unknown. We all arrive on the backs of those who have gone before us. We all have help.

When we reach out - and connect, like Ed and I did with each other, like members of Triiibes who voted, like Seth - we all benefit from the connection. If you’re simply saying, “How did I benefit?” from a connection you’ve made, and you’re not seeing it, then maybe you should be asking, “How did WE benefit?” The answers will be quite different and much more compelling. Connecting with others begins a journey. Begin yours today. Reach out and connect with a stranger. Introduce yourself to someone at work, or a conference. Join a social network and get involved. I guarantee - get involved with life and people and they will get involved with you.

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