johnmaconline

You’ve been there. As have I.

Sometimes, it just all falls apart. No amount of good intentions, proper practice, or belief could save it.

What do you do?

First, you mourn. That’s OK. In fact, it’s necessary. Your beliefs and intentions, although ultimately askew, were initially well-placed. Their nobility requires acknowledgment.

Second, you learn. What happened? Is there anything to take from it? Yes, there always is. Find that.

Third, you turn the page. Could be scary. Could be exciting. Should be both. The clean sheet of paper.

Imagining all of the beautiful colors, shapes, and designs that may end up on that clean sheet of paper is the most important part.

“At the heart of most stable governments is a willingness to share power with people you disagree with–and may even hate.”

– Sebstian Junger, Freedom

Yes, and not just governments. Great teams share this trait.

Plus, there is another quality — a willingness to lose.

In a healthy democracy, it’s the willingness to admit you’ve lost the election and will commit to the peaceful transfer of power.

On a healthy team, it’s the willingness try new things that don’t work out. It’s the willingness to admit that the other idea is better. It’s the willingness to commit to something you don’t (yet) agree with.

It’s ok to argue. It’s ok to debate. It’s ok to not agree. It’s ok to passionately and emotionally defend your position. But it’s not ok to work against it for the sake of winning.

Great team members, like great government leaders, have a willingness to lose. 

You’ve been here before. You know how it plays out. The last time it happened, you were optimistic it was the last time.

But here you are again because, once again, you aren’t in control of your own destiny.

How will you handle this one?

You will mourn appropriately but then transition.
You will focus on what you can control.
You will take care of your people.
You will be a professional.
You will be an example.
You will try new things.
You will be optimistic.
You will have faith.
You will add value.
You will try again.
You will learn.
You will lead.

How many more shots do you have left? Well, as many as you’re willing to take. 

When I was a little kid, I remember watching cliff divers on TV. ABC’s Wide World of Sports, if I remember correctly.

“That is the coolest thing anyone could ever do! I want to do that!”

The diver stands calm and stoic on the smallest of rock outcroppings. The camera (brilliantly) set up behind and above pans slowly, giving the viewer the perspective of nothing but the sunny, warm air and the blue water seemingly miles below. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, coils slightly, and launches into the great beyond, arms outstretched, body arched, legs together, and toes pointed. Two seconds or two minutes later, he breaks the plane of the beautiful blue water and disappears beneath, leaving no trace that he was ever there. The very definition of majestic. 

Well, my 8-year-old self had no idea that my 18+-year-old self would be wildly allergic to heights. Consequently, I’ve never cliff-dived from 60+ feet into the gleaming and warm Pacific like those majestic divers in Acapulco. I have, however, jumped from a 10m diving platform and 20-ish feet from the rocks along one of the local streams running in and around Warren, VT. 

In both cases, I was neither calm nor majestic. At the 10m board, I needed a physical push from a friend.

Sometimes it’s gonna be ugly. Sometimes, you’re gonna need a push from a friend. Sometimes, you’re not gonna know exactly what’s at the bottom.

But you’re gonna have to dive off the cliff anyway.

Nature certainly has an order.

The circle of life. The laws of physics and chemistry. Evolution. Our understanding of this order changes over time, but we recognize that order exists objectively, and that it has been designed in from the beginning.

Humans also have an order to our world.

Justice. Altruism. Aesthetics. Purpose. As with nature, our understanding of human order changes over time, and we recognize that this order is not designed in, but relative to culture, time, and place.

I sometimes wonder if the natural order of things and the human order of things are at odds. Maybe the magic happens when we seek to align the two orders.

Excitement. Apprehension. Nervousness. Optimism. Dread.

New adventures bring out all the feelings, whether you signed up voluntarily or someone else forced it on you.

The question isn’t whether you feel them. The question is what you do with them. Like everything else in life, it’s about perspective.

And you control your perspective.

Mediocre. Average. Meh.

Nobody wants that label. It doesn’t matter if it’s applied to you at work, the dinner you just made, or your skills as a spouse. I feel like I’ve spent much of my life trying to outrun mediocre.

Extraordinary. Outstanding. Exemplary.

Those are the labels you want.

But each set of labels have one thing in common — they’re relative to the people in the room. They require a comparison. Mediocre in relation to who? Extraordinary compared to what?

Sometimes, you just gotta change rooms. Recognizing when is next level.