Archive for September, 2009

The root of courage is embracing doubt

Friday, September 25th, 2009

When confronted with great uncertainty, our sensory cortex fires into high gear and produces a feeling of fear in our bodies. Chimpanzees have a similar biological mechanism, but at least their fight-or-flight response only activates when confronted by real danger. We humans on the other hand react to our imagined fears with the same ferocity as a life threatening situation. Whether it is fear of failure, rejection, reprisal, or death, it is fear that rules this world.

In the midst of our chimpish lives, seeking some kind of bliss while leaping from fear to fear, every once in a while we encounter someone who stands still and stares willfully into the abyss of doubt. We admire those who can enter into a moment of great uncertainty and risk, and yet will not run. I see this kind of courage every day working with men and women who build and run new ventures. They face enormous doubt and at times experience visceral fear, yet they persevere.

What is it that allows some people to move boldly into doubt while others cower or run away? First, you need a little ego. You must believe your action might lead to a better future. Whether you are like Howard Schultz who built a new kind of coffee company despite all the naysayers that insisted middle-class Americans would never pay $2 for a cup of coffee, or like Rosa Parks who refused to give up her bus seat to a white passenger because it just wasn’t right, if you believe that your actions might lead to a better future, you are more willing to risk the consequences of today. Neither Howard nor Rosa was sure of the outcome of their effort. Both faced great uncertainty and economic or personal peril. Yet they each acted because they deemed that the future they sought was worth the risk.

Our inability to know the future often triggers the fight-or-flight response. The human mind, always seeking certainty, then assigns certainty to the undesirable outcome, just as a child at night is sure that the bogey man is in the closet. But until we open the closet, we just don’t know what is in it. The bogey man is in our head.

We all face uncertainty. The root of fear is fighting your doubt. The root of courage is embracing it.

Doubt is not your enemy. Doubt is the source of your creativity. By staring silently and openly into the dark closet of your uncertain future, you discover freedom. Since you can’t know for certain anything that lies in the future, you are completely free to choose today. Fear kicks in when you want to control the outcome. By definition, the riskier the decision or venture, the less control you have of outcome. Most days you can control whether one foot falls before the next as you walk. On the other hand, no matter how hard you try, you cannot control the rain. Nor can you control whether your venture will succeed or fail.

If you relax into your doubt, you will find creativity, hope, and opportunity. And others will witness courage in action.

Sept 11 One Kind Word: a poem and the start of a journey

Friday, September 11th, 2009

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in New York City giving an investment presentation to the executive team at Monster Worldwide.

Within a few minutes of starting that pitch, the 70 year-old Chairman Andy McKelvey was abruptly pulled out of the meeting by his assistant. We all looked at each other wondering what was going on. Some execs rolled their eyes and whispered to each other, chuckling and thinking the old guy was up to no good.

Then a crescendo of anxiety quickly rose as rumors of a small plane hitting the World Trade Center escalated into stories about one tower being on fire. Many of us left the conference room and went to the south side of the buidling.

We stood in a magnificent corporate office, 40 stories in the air, providing a clear view of the World Trade Center south of us. The towers were in fact on fire.

We stood mute, watching in disbelief. Then gasped and shook as each tower crashed before our eyes. There wasn’t a scream among us. Just a sudden gasp, hand covered mouth, eyes watering, quiet sobbing.

I remember trembling that only a week earlier, I had been in the south tower that now crumbled before my eyes, killing thousands as it collapsed. As my tears rolled down, I said a prayer of gratitude that I was a spectator and not a victim.

The city was eerily quiet that afternoon. I walked south to volunteer and turned around again and headed north. I did that at least ten times. Unsure of whether I could be of any help or if I should get home to be with my family. Torn. Guilty. Indecisive. Confused.

I went back to the office. I tried to rent a car to go home, but they were reserved for emergency personnel. All flights had been grounded. I headed to Union Station to try to get a train and found the station jammed with thousands of other would-be rail travelers. I had to leave my bags behind in that station so that I could squeeze into the last train out. It was a stinking, sweltering standing room only ride to Philadelphia. The next day I was on Amtrak headed across the country to Seattle.

On the week-long ride home, I had time to reflect on this experience and wrote a poem. Every year, I re-read this poem again. I feel the same now as I did then. The victims of 9-11 will not have died in vain if we learn to love fully. Those of us who did not die on 9-11 have received the gift of life. Every moment we breathe and see and hear is an opportunity to build a better world.  It isn’t in the hands of our generals, presidents, or prime ministers. The opportunity and the responsibility to build a better world is in our hands.

One kind word by  Michael Schutzler 9/11/2001

In one instant, all we knew

Assumed, hoped, or dreamed

Had collapsed.

So many aspirations, adulations, ruminations

And hard won stations

Washed away in a sea of fire,

Concrete and steel,

Dust and tears.

Haunting cries of electric armbands in the darkness

Screeching, shrill alarms

Sole witness and testimony

To heroes lost.

Twin towers of Babel

Monuments to the one language

That cowers humanity;

Mighty fortress,

Brought down with blood of innocents;

Pride bedashed lying at our feet;

Stench of smoldering death

Draped on a late summer breeze.

Ten thousand eyes burned dry for life;

Ten thousand hands scraped raw moving rocks in vain;

Ten thousand hearts broken searching in the rain.

Cries of vengeance! Calls for revenge!

Tip-tip like rain on a thin glass roof;

The question WHY bursts in

Desperate, choking, breathless despair.

But the soul of the world knows

What is softly whispered in the quiet corners

Of our solitude:

Violence sown is violence reaped.

Oh the mother of hatred is an empty belly;

And her husband is neglect.

Yet one act of kindness

Born of humility,

Propelled by faith,

Marks the end of suffering.

The time to act is a twinkling;

A challenge that flickers,

Fleeting and swift.

It is our chance to reply

With one kind word,

Or help lift one burden,

Or ask forgiveness,

Or offer thanks.

Our moment is at hand!

Don’t waste it.

Say one kind word;

So it might flourish and grow.

Hurry!

For in an instant, all you know,

Assume, hope, or dream,

May collapse

Leaving orphaned intentions

To wander in the caverns

Of broken hearts.