My Year of Hopefulness - Unaccustomed Earth

I'm reading the book Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, a book I've been interested for over a year because I was so touched by her last book, The Namesake. Lahiri has a beautiful way of weaving stories between generations and across cultures, identifying and then eloquently writing about her characters thoughts and their often mismatched actions. Her characters are flawed in serious ways, making them so real that after a few pages, we think they are our neighbors, our family members, our friends.

The title "Unaccustomed Earth" intrigues me. Before picking up the book, I thought Lahiri was talking about new and uncharted waters that her characters would take on. This true, with the added twist that the uncharted waters are new challenges taken on by new generations while their hearts, minds, traditions, and families remain firmly rooted in the past. Her main focus in this book is the conflict that arises in a family as the world, physical and emotional, quickly transforms and changes from one generation to the next.

In my home town, people rarely leave. 99% of families are Italian and Catholic, like mine. There are roads named after prominent families in town who have made their homes there for generations. Generations of families live side-by-side, childhood friends remain friends forever, having the same conversations day in and day out. There, time stands still.

My family is a transplant there - neither my mom nor my dad grew up there. My brother is there thought my sister, Weez, and I left as soon as we headed off for college and never looked back. This was an unfamiliar practice - most people who went to college went locally or at least within the state. My sister and I never even considered sticking around. We were off for greener pastures, the same way my mom and dad were when they were young. Maybe finding our own way in the world, away from everything and everyone we knew as kids, is somehow rooted in our genes.

While my mom always wanted us to make our own way, it's fair to say that she wishes we were all always around, all the time. It must be a hard process to watch someone you brought into the world head out into the unknown to see what they can find. Lahiri's stories boil down to a common theme: the unknown is frightening, and it's especially frightening for older generations who watch younger ones take flight in foreign spaces. I imagine it's the same for my mom - while she wants so much for us to have adventures, she also worries about Weez and I being safe and happy and healthy in a way that she doesn't worry about my brother.

Lahiri begins her book with a quote that puts her stories in perspective. "Human nature will not flourish...for too long a series of generations in the same worn-out soil. My children...shall strike their roots in unaccustomed earth. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne." While the stories mostly talk about conflict between generations, with Hawthorne's quote she acknowledges that future generations must put down their roots in foreign soil in order for us to move forward, evolve, and lead productive lives. It's that process of making the unfamiliar familiar that is so critical to our development, and the development of humanity. Adapt and change are the only two things we ever really have to do.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Lessons of Fear

Fear preoccupies us, consumes us. We can't get it out of our minds. It follows us around, a shadow that's always just a step or two behind. It impacts our actions. It's distracts us from our responsibilities and keeps us from our dreams.

It's amazing what happens when we let fear dissipate. A weight lifts from our shoulders. The world is a little brighter. There's a little more hope in our hearts. Best of all, we are able to be more ourselves without fear. We can see all the possibilities in front of us.

So how do we let go of fear? Like most other ailments, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. So here are some ideas on how to banish fear and also how to keep it at bay, along with an example of a fear I've worked through.

1.) Identify the fear. Give it a name.
I always thought I had a real fear of not having money. But then as my earning power increased, I found I was still afraid. It took me a while to realize that my real fear was not being able to provide for myself.

2.) With the true fear identified, consider what would happen if we had to handle the fear head-on tomorrow.
Once I realized that I was afraid of not being able to provide for myself, I thought about what I would do if I suddenly found myself living my fear. I made a list of friends and family who might be able to help me. As I worked through my list, I realized what an amazing support group I have.

And then I considered all the times in my life when I had been very close to living my fear. I thought about how I'd previously gotten myself out of tight budget situations. In college, I was always on the verge of being completely broke. I would get an extra job or pick up a few hours at my current jobs. I even participated in psychology experiments run by grad students at my university to get an extra $25 or $50. I was very good at cutting my expenses down to nearly $0 if need be. I got used to super-cheap food, and I went without every possible frill imaginable.

3.) Talk to others about the fear. Articulated fears are much less scary than those that swim around in our minds.
This one was hard for me. For the majority of my life I was really embarrassed about my financial situation. And then I met a bunch of people in college who also had a hard time making ends meet. They were more at ease about it than I was and they always had some odd job leads that were very helpful.

4.) Set-up a plan to keep the fear at bay, and remember that a fear can be a wonderful motivator to promote good habits.
Because I was worried about not being able to provide for myself, I made an action plan of how to get myself into a situation that made my fear irrelevant. I put myself onto an aggressive savings plan so that I'd have a cushion to fall back on if something went wrong. I also became an expert negotiator for my salary and for variable priced purchases like cars and rental apartments.

My fear about not being able to provide for myself also made me very empathic toward those who truly can't provide for themselves. I knew that fear and sadness and embarrassment they felt. I'd felt it, too. And spending time with those people made me realize how extra ordinarily lucky I am, even at times when I didn't have much at all.

I also realized that I wanted to have more control over my earnings. The roots of my entrepreneurial spirit were started in my desire to provide for myself, to take my future into my own hands. And while I wish that I hadn't allowed fear to plague me for so long, in the end I learned to make the most of it while it was here. I lived through my fear many times over and the sky didn't fall down. Maybe what I was afraid of was fear itself.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Day I Grew Up

I am in the midst of preparing an essay for a contest with the theme "the day I grew up." I've been racking my brain, conjuring up old memories, to get to that one realization that defined the end of my childhood and the beginning of my adult life. Trouble was I couldn't think of any one moment. It seemed to happen gradually - actually, I think I'm still in the midst of that transition. Or at least I thought I was until today.

Two events happened to me today that signaled to me that I had turned the corner - leaving my childish insecurity and lack of confidence behind, tossing it off in favor of the confidence and self-assurance I have always admired in adults. I recognize that it's odd that it would take me 33 years of living to make the leap. Better late than never.

Event one: I was told that I may have to stop writing, or at the very least have my writing approved and heavily edited, if I am to continue my association with an organization that I am currently involved with. It seems that they think my writing reflects upon them, even if I'm writing about a subject entirely unrelated to them.

That means that this blog would go silent and that my Examiner.com column would grind to a halt, just as I am finding my own voice and rhythm. I would have to stop doing the one activity I love most in the world - writing - because someone else demanded it. Without a second thought I decided that if I cannot have my writing life and be associated with that organization, then that organization would cease to be a part of my life. As a child, if my mother told me to stop jumping on the bed, I stopped jumping on the bed. As an adult, I won't stop doing something I love because someone else say I have to.

Event two: I was asked to put my name on a request that I cannot support because "that's the way it's always been done." Even though the request doesn't make any sense, and everyone involved with the request agrees it doesn't make sense, I was still being asked to push it forward. I will admit that I got a bit exasperated. My emotions got the best of me. I'm a passionate person.

As if someone was asking me to dishonor my name and my sense of judgment for the sake of being compliant to a rule I disagree with, I was handed the dare: say yes, even though you disagree, or face the consequences. A child would flinch at the thought of the consequences. I chose the consequences. I know the value of my name and judgment, and they're worth so much to me that I'd rather suffer any consequences that their defense may trigger.

When I was a kid, I always imagined that growing up would be this phenomenal achievement. It would be a welcome release. And it is, sort of. But it's a little lonely, too. Today, I shut some doors. I made a few decisions that cannot be undone. And while I am confident that they are the right decisions for me to make, those doors are still a little painful to shut. It means there's one less avenue, one less path to take to wherever it is my life is headed.

It's almost as if I didn't even make the choices in the two events today. The world made them for me. It handed me a set of circumstances, already knowing which direction I'd take, in order to push me forward. Fate's a funny thing. On one hand, it's comforting to know that the world has something in store for us that's far better than anything we can dream up on our own. On the other hand, we have to cede control to a grander plan that we don't entirely know. One thing is for certain: in order to grow up we have to let go of all the "might-have-been's" to focus on the "all-that-will be's".

My Year of Hopefulness - The Blessing and Curse of Growth

In BusinessWeek this week, there's a great one page article about The Peter Principle, a book whose basic premise is that the workplace does strange things to people. It was the precursor to The Office, Office Space, and the Dilbert comic strip. We laugh because the material is funny, and it's funny because it's all too familiar to all of us.

The main conclusion of The Peter Principle is one of my favorite quotes that I repeat so often as I read the paper these days or hear my friends talk about their latest work travails: In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence. And while it's a bold statement, it's also completely logical. We are pushed so hard to claw our way up as high as we can go that we risk toppling over to the other side of the tipping point that represents exactly where we optimally operate.

Here's a great example: A friend of mine has a boss who is brilliant at my friend's job, which she used to have. The boss is a fantastic individual contributor, very detail-oriented, strong follow-through, enjoys rolling up her sleeves, and pitching in wherever she's needed. These are perfect skills and interests if you have my friend's job. They aren't good if you're her boss. Her boss has no interest in developing people, managing others, or taking a step back and distributing work among the team members. She likes implementation and has no interest (or skill) in strategy.

Such a classic case: My friend's boss was excellent at her job, and because she did so well they promoted her - right into the completely wrong type of role. We see this all the time at so many companies. It's all about growth - as much of it as we can get as quickly as possible. As a result, a lot of people, good, talented people in just the right place, end up being moved to a position where they have no aptitude or interest. All for the sake of "growth".

You'd think we'd learn our lesson: companies grew too big, people's financial ambitions grew too big, we lived beyond our means for so many years, housing prices and demand for real estate sky-rocketed causing bidding wars. In so many aspects our economy grew so big that it was bloated, and as a result, a correcting period has begun that has destroyed all of the growth we've experienced the last decade. So what good was the growth at all?

Here's a little bit of advice that I try to remember every day and it has helped me tremendously in my career: keep you eyes on your strengths, your interests, and your goals. Not your company's. Not your boss's, or your friends', or your family's. Yours. For example, I enjoy managing large, cross-functional teams that work on complex, multi-faceted problems. I like making things, tangible new products that answer an unmet need, and I'd like to help people live extraordinary lives through the work that I do. Pretty simple to state, hard to keep doing. There are always distractions, always people who want you to stop doing what you're good at and what you love, and do something you aren't so great at. Growth in new areas has its benefits, though should not be undertaken at the expense of your aptitudes and happiness. Why rise to a level of incompetence and fail when you can do what you love and are good at and succeed? Growth has its rewards, but it can, and often does, come with a very heft price tag.