Month: August 2017

Overcoming Old

“I’m too old for this.”

That line is a hallmark of the 1987 blockbuster Lethal Weapon. In the movie, established Los Angeles Police Sergeant Roger Murtaugh finds himself partnered up with “loose cannon” Martin Riggs. Anytime Riggs’ reckless actions put the two of them in danger, Murtaugh blurts out those iconic five words (plus an expletive).

There are certainly many moments when this line finds its way into my life. Most recently, it popped into my head as I was walking across a college campus on a sizzling late summer evening.

To my left and right were undergraduate students a decade younger than me — guys in shorts and flip-flops and girls who could best be described as “scantily clad.” (As a classmate would later quip, “It seems like the price of fabric’s gone up since we were in school. Cause no one’s sporting it.”)

In the midst of it all, there I was — dressed in business attire and feeling very out of place.

It was an eerie feeling — one I’m sure anyone might feel on their first day of grad school. For despite our efforts to break down the barriers that come between us, age is still the Great Differentiator in our society. And feeling old is kind of like wearing a Scarlet Letter.

***

Why are age divisions a hallmark of our society? Because we were raised on them.

Literally.

All through grade school, we socialized and learned with peers who were our age. As we steamed past adolescence, our age provided us access to the driver’s seat, the voter’s booth and the bar. And as young adults, we quickly learned how age (masquerading as “experience”) plays a critical role in climbing the corporate ladder.

None of this is an accident. Our system of age-based division provides us structure. It presents us with goals. And it even rewards us for merit.

Still, in certain instances, it can make us stick out like a sore thumb.

Yes, our rigid age structure self-segregates our society. It limits our tolerance of cross-generational activities. And it makes us feel self-conscious when we’re “not in our lane.”

Simply put, it makes getting old no fun at all.

***

Now, I’m generally not one to rail against the cruelty of aging.

I don’t pine for days gone by, when life was more innocent and fun. I’ve fully embraced the changes that come with maturity and experience — changes both in abilities and responsibilities. My awareness of the latter has allowed me to progress through young adulthood gracefully. Perhaps too gracefully.

I’m not kidding. I jokingly refer to myself as a “42-Year-Old at Heart.” And my favorite song is Garth Brooks’ Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old, which I listen to every year on my birthday.

So, no. Aging generally doesn’t bother me.

Yet, when the time and place is just right, my John Wayne façade crumbles. And there I am —  sporting a button-up shirt and slacks, yet feeling as naked as Adam after he was banished from Eden.

Yes, it seems regardless of our disposition, getting old will eventually get to us.

***

So, what can we do to overcome this predicament? What can we do to stem the shame, self-loathing and decreased confidence that comes with being long in the tooth?

We can start by reminding ourselves that we belong. That we have a right to go about our business, pursue our dreams and live our lives, regardless of the crowd we might encounter along the way.

And if we still find ourselves in moments of doubt, we can remind ourselves that we have nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, the knowledge and experience we accrued should be celebrated. It lets us live a more enlightened life and have a bigger impact. And it lets us accomplish more while erring less.

You see, overcoming old is a power we all possess. We don’t need a journey to the fountain of youth or a Botox injection. We just need the mental fortitude to break with our age-obsessed society. The wherewithal to change the narrative from a glass half-empty to a glass half-full.

That’s something we should never be too old for.

Analysis Paralysis

Lock it up.

We’ve likely heard those words from an early age.

Whether we’re looking to protect our property or our own wellbeing, we recognize that we need to guard it behind some sort of resistant barrier. A lock. A passcode. Even a contraceptive.

And a lifetime of closely guarding all we’ve held dear has impacted our feelings about the word lock. It represents our White Knight, our silent protector.

Yet, there are times when that word can mean nothing but doom for us. Such as when machinery we’re using locks up. Or our brains do.

That’s right, we can sabotage our own hopes and dreams by putting our brains on lockdown. I’m not talking about the infamous “Brain Freeze” here — when we seem to act with an absence of thought. I’m talking about the opposite of that.

Namely, I’m talking about the dangers of Analysis Paralysis.

***

We are, by and large, thoughtful people. Our collective exuberance for learning has helped us innovate and organize over Millennia. It’s taken us from cave paintings to computer sciences, quintupled our average lifespan and even allowed us to systemize the passing of knowledge to new generations.

Thought is the engine that’s driven much of what we’ve created, and much of what we’ve destroyed. It’s been touted, both subtly and blatantly, as the must-have attribute in our society.

But the power of thought is not unlimited. It can turn our mind into a pretzel if we’re not careful.

You see, Analysis Paralysis is not just a catchy buzzword. It’s a real, debilitating condition we subject ourselves to, far too regularly.

How do I know? Because I find myself afflicted with it time and again.

Thinking is at the heart of everything I do. I try and learn something new every day, and as my Words of the West readers know, I write at least once a week. But for every moment I ponder something existential and profound, there’s another where I can’t decide what to eat for dinner.

It’s maddening — not only to myself, but also to my friends and family.

Why? Because Analysis Paralysis brings out a vicious cycle of annoying traits.

At first, there’s indecisiveness. While I ultimately do come to a decision, I then feel compelled to back it up with a convoluted logical argument. And finally, regret over the option I didn’t choose kicks in, and I spend hours playing the “What If” game.

By the time this cycle has run its course, I’ve expended a ton of unnecessary energy on a basic decision. It my daily brainpower is a finite resource, I’ve effectively spilled a large portion of it onto the pavement.

It’s sad, even shameful. But, I reckon I’m far from the only one to ever experience this.

***

So, who’s to blame for this onslaught of Analysis Paralysis?

Is it us? Our society?

Truth be told, it’s probably a little bit of both.

You see, our societal expectations are stringent and exacting. We value innovators and thought leaders — those who go the extra mile to expand their minds and horizons.

It takes a lot of work to go that extra mile. In particular, it requires recoding our brain to gather as much pertinent information as possible before making an assessment.

And once we get there, there’s really no turning back.

For all we talk about “flipping an off switch” in our brains or “going on vacation mode,” the reality is that we’re still running all the calculations with every decision we make — no matter where we make it.

Some of us can prioritize these decisions, tuning out the white noise for the basic ones in order to keep them simple.

Others of us cannot.

But, there is hope for those of us in this predicament. Hope that starts with awareness.

  • Awareness of the varying levels of gravity of the decisions we make.
  • Awareness of the debilitating effects of chronic overthinking.
  • Awareness of the benefits of “Letting It Ride” from time to time.

If we can get to this point of conscientiousness, our brains can run a new set of calculations. One that convinces us that choosing between tacos and burgers doesn’t need to be as exacting a process as pondering the meaning of life. One that lets us use our brainpower more efficiently. And one that allows us to preserve our sanity.

We owe it to ourselves, our loved ones and our society to get to this point — to eliminate Analysis Paralysis once and for all. It will make us happier. And it will make us better citizens.

Time to slay this beast. Let’s get started.

Analyst or Innovator?

When I was growing up, I loved baseball. I loved playing it. I loved watching it. But most of all, I loved checking out baseball statistics.

Even though I was no math whiz, my young mind recognized that those numbers I saw in the newspaper box scores were actually a barometer. A player who batted to a .330 average with 30 Home Runs and 100 Runs Batted In would be someone I’d want to see starting for my favorite team. One who batted .210 with 5 homers and 25 RBI would not.

Whenever I saw those guys with poor statistics in a box score, I responded with bemusement. Why would a team run a player out there who hadn’t proven he could hit?

Of course, I failed to consider the ancillary reasons for those low numbers. Maybe the player was known for his outstanding defense. Maybe he was anxious because his wife was due any day with their first child. Maybe he was suffering from colitis but trying to tough it out anyway.

These scenarios wouldn’t erase goose eggs in a box score. But they would put them into context.

In particular, they had the power to integrate the human element into an industry based on numerical benchmarks. And given baseball’s legacy of pageantry and tradition, this element was sorely needed.

***

Sadly, that human element is harder to find these days.

It’s long gone from baseball. Statisticians are now an integral part of the sport’s brain trust, and players are judged on obscure metrics like WAR, Exit Velocity, Launch Angle and Spin Rate. (Sometimes, when I tune in to a baseball broadcast, I feel like I’m watching cyborgs.)

But it’s disappeared from many other industries as well. Big data is in vogue and seemingly every decision out there comes from cold, hard numbers. A whole new class of employees spend their days looking at analytics and reporting to their bosses solely on those very same numbers. They might not know it, but these analysts are now the key cogs that define their employers’ strategies.

This all seems well and good on the surface. More young adults can now have access to corporate jobs that actually impact their employers’ strategies. And companies don’t have to gamble with profitability each time they change things up; the cold, hard data is within arm’s reach.

But dig a little deeper, and you’ll find the quandary.

***

We were never meant to take the human element out of the equation. Anyone who’s watched Star Trek knows that instinct and emotion are just as critical as logic in completing our mission.

On a high level, our love affair with data-based decision making excludes us from any growth opportunities that require breaking from the norm, or bending the rules. It sacrifices our independence of thought in favor of hard numbers, thereby compromising our integrity.

But on a more basic level, our all-in data approach has created a new class of professionals. A class that is as stuck in the mud as Joe Pesci was in My Cousin Vinny.

You see, it’s relatively easy to analyze data that’s already there. Assuming one has a certain level of specialization, it’s even a secure area to work in.

But this type of occupation doesn’t provide a great opportunity for growth. There’s no need to go beyond the numbers. After all, no one’s looking for us to do that.

***

We were meant for something greater. We weren’t meant to be analysts. We were meant to be innovators.

And while the world at large seems to be pulling in the other direction, we don’t have to follow suit.

We have more to contribute than the digits on our spreadsheets and the colored arrows on our charts. There are untold stories behind those trends and totals. Stories that tie the often-unpredictable course of human psychology to the concrete data we cultivate like corn on a Nebraska field.

We must tell those stories to tie everything together. We must tell these stories to forge a new way forward for a society that has doubled down on a solitary variable. We must tell these stories to lead.

This process might seem uncomfortable. Unsafe even.

That’s OK. Innovators never take the well-worn path.

But regardless of our apprehension, we owe it to ourselves to explore our true potential. We owe it to humanity to take that leap. We owe it to our future to make the right choice.

Analyst or innovator?

The answer should be clear.

All or Some?

Go for it all.

Think big.

Shoot for the stars.

We’ve all heard some version of these sayings throughout our lives.

Our society embellishes dreamers who become doers. It’s why we bestow fame, notoriety and power on our biggest achievers.

This is the reason we recognize Marissa Mayer, but not the engineers who have helped her innovate at both Google and Yahoo. (Unless one of them spews out  sexist comments in a viral memo, that is.) It’s we recognize Derek Jeter, but not Mike Hessman. (Hessman is the all-time home run leader in minor league baseball.)

The message is clear. We must be somebody to be viewed as successful. Anything less means we’re irrelevant.

So, we all strive for fame, fortune and notoriety. We set our sights on titles such as CEO or VIP. We dream of “making it,” simply for the power and prestige that destination provides.

But we fail to consider is what life at the top is actually like.

You see, power is intoxicating. This is why history is filled with examples of both its use and misuse.

It’s quite something to have the ability to control both our own destiny and that of others. But this ability comes with significant side effects.

When we take the reins and ride into the spotlight, we sacrifice our anonymity. Our actions are heavily scrutinized. Our privacy is compromised. And our decisions leave a trail.

Whether we become the President of the United States or a musician with a bigtime recording deal, a basketball star or a chief executive, there is no more hiding from the world after we hit the bigtime. There is no way to turn off the attention our notoriety provides.

For try as we might to get away, there’s always someone there to keep us honest — whether it be a journalist on a beat, a paparazzi photographer or an astute social media user.

That scrutiny can be far-reaching. It can even extend to our families and even impact the way we live our lives.

This is the cost of power, fortune and fame. It’s a cost we often fail to consider until we’ve made it big. And by then it’s too late. The mansion with the pool might be nice, but having to sneak out the back entrance to run to the grocery store sure ain’t.

Is this really what we want? Not a chance.

And it brings us to the crux of our paradox:

We don’t actually want it all. We just want some of it.

Sure, we want the glory and the adulation. But we also crave the anonymity that allows us to reset our batteries and spend cherished time with our loved ones in peace.

This setup is perfect for the middleman role. For the undersecretary. For the vice president.

But those roles are harder and harder to come by these days, and many of the ones that remain are getting replaced by machines.

So, with no ready-made outlet to turn to, what should we do to satiate our ambition yet save our sanity?

We should look before we leap.

We should do our due diligence. We should consider the tradeoffs of the spotlight long before we shoot for it.

And critically, we should ask ourselves the following:

Is pursuing our dreams worth sacrificing life as we know it?

If the answer to this question is yes, we can proceed with eyes wide open. We can round the bend prepared for the cage-rattling hit that awaits on the other end. The world-rocker that will send us into a new reality that there’s no turning back from.

If the answer is no, we can stop chasing a dream that we find undesirable. We can instead strive to make the life we know, love and are comfortable with the best it can possibly be.

Now, neither of these answers are wrong. But only one will be right for us.

All or some? The choice is ours.

 

Who We Are

“I’ll just be Jules, Vincent.”

I love this line, which is from my favorite movie — Pulp Fiction.

It comes as gang enforcers Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega are eating breakfast at a coffee shop in Southern California. Noting an earlier near-death experience where he “saw God,” Jules tells Vincent that he aspires to leave the gangster life and “walk the earth.” After Vincent responds by calling him a bum, Jules uncorks those five powerful words.

It might seem strange that this line resonates with me the way it does. After all, it’s far from Shakespearean. It doesn’t even roll off the tongue.

Why does it strike such a chord? Because it gets real. Realer than we’re willing to get.

You see, when we describe who we are, we tend to use a ton of labels as identifiers. Our job, our ethnicity, our family name. Whether it’s ego talking or the realities of a culture built on the twin concepts of diversity and resumes, these labels dominate the discussion. They describe us, define us and even impact our behavior.

Our obsession with rising in stature — both professionally and socially — is fueled in part by our label-crazed culture. And our achievements are shrouded in the context of these labels.

But they don’t define who we are.

Strip all the labels away, and we still have something unique to contribute.

Our quirks, our habits, our intonations, our looks, our interests and hobbies — these attributes are geared toward our individuality. Sure, we might share some of them with relatives, friends, or even complete strangers. But ultimately, the combination of all these attributes makes us unique. It makes us 1 in 7 billion.

The decisions we make, the paths we choose to navigate life’s complexities — these all ought to be as unique as we are as well. But all too often, they get caught in the fray of our label obsession.

This is a reflection of human nature. After all, we are social beings. It’s totally normal to want to conform. It builds camaraderie and a shared community.

Even so, we must consider what we’re sacrificing in this exchange.

Can we do better for ourselves when it comes to the decisions we make? All too often, the answer is yes.

Now, I’m not saying we should all Walk the Earth without a rhyme or reason to it. That strategy is far from foolproof, even in a Hollywood script. (The fate of Jules Winnfield is intentionally left ambiguous in the film.)

That said, I do think we can use the decisions we make to show more of who we really are.

This shift might make us feel squeamish, but it’s worth fighting through the internal discomfort. Why? Because refocusing our internal compass around our individuality forces us to conquer the apprehensiveness of making a decision for ourselves, rather than the acceptance of the masses. It allows us to describe who we are through our actions, rather than our accolades.

Most of all, it leaves us happier and freer. Life is not like its eponymous board game. We each have our own path to follow. Chaining ourselves to the wagon trails others is masochistic and counterproductive.

So, let’s just be Jules. Or Pete. Or Vanessa. Or Cory, Danielle, Taylor, Dylan — you get the idea.

We don’t need more than that to express who we are.