Tag: achievement

The Danger of Premature Celebration

There’s an indelible image that’s lodged in my mind.

It comes from a Monday Night Football game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Philadelphia Eagles that took place several years ago.

In the second quarter of the game, the Eagles quarterback drops back and unleashes a majestic throw. The ball spirals sharply through the warm Texas night, landing in the arms of receiver DeSean Jackson as he’s running at full-stride 60 yards downfield near the goal line.

Jackson raises his arms in jubilation as he prepares for his touchdown celebration dance. He then points mockingly toward the Dallas fans and starts dancing in the end zone, just beyond the silver paint that reads COWBOYS.

It was a moment of sweet jubilation for Jackson — making a highlight-reel play on national television.

There was one problem. He didn’t have the ball.

When Jackson raised his arms, he was still two yards from the goal line. The ball popped backward out of his hand and bounded away behind him.

There was no touchdown. Just a fumble.

With all that dancing and gesturing, DeSean Jackson was only making a mockery of himself — on national television.

I’m captivated by this image. For it is the ultimate cautionary tale for our most obnoxious character flaw.

Premature celebration.

 

Our culture is built upon celebration.

As a capitalist society, we continually indoctrinate ourselves in the ethos of Taking what’s ours.

This ethos has had several iterations over the years.

First, pioneers and frontiersmen pushed their way west from the Atlantic to the Pacific, clearing swaths of forests and decimating native tribes to lay claim to the land.

Journalists of that era named the process Manifest Destiny — a term that whitewashed the true ugliness of what was going on. Out west, frontier life was punctuated by brutal acts of celebration.

Murderous bandits roamed the prairie, claiming ever bigger scores of gold and glory. Native tribesmen collected scalps off of their captives. And public hangings drew crowds of hundreds, even in one-horse towns.

In each case, someone was taking what was theirs, but at another’s expense. And they weren’t shy in letting the world know about it.

As the lawlessness of the west died down, a new revolution started back east. Stock and bond trading went from a side industry to the mainstream, turning Wall Street from a city street to a cultural icon.

Those who got rich in the early years of this movement weren’t afraid to flaunt their wealth. They dressed to the nines and threw extravagant parties. The era became known as The Roaring Twenties, and the roar was resonant — until the 1929 stock market crash brought an abrupt end to the party.

As America emerged from the Great Depression and the ensuing World War, the art of celebration went national for the first time. Radio and television programs made it from coast to coast, and Hollywood had more cultural influence than ever before. As new generation became infatuated with entertainment, our culture of celebration truly took root.

Now, what was once a campfire has erupted into a full-on inferno. Today, we focus less on what we accomplish and more on how we celebrate those accomplishments.

For that is how we’ll be judged. That is how we’ll be remembered.

And that, I assure you, that is what was running through the mind of DeSean Jackson when he foolishly dropped the ball two yards from glory.

Swim through the wall.

These four words sound like terrible advice — if you take them at face value.

After all, the water has plenty of give. It parts itself as we cut through it, as if beckoned by Moses’ staff.

The wall has no give. It stands as firm as the Himalayas, demanding deference.

But from a different perspective, what seems like folly is pure gold.

Yes, metaphorically, Swim through the wall means Don’t let up.

Or, more specifically: Achieve now. Celebrate later.

It’s simple advice. But that simplicity doesn’t make it any less effective.

DeSean Jackson could have used that advice on that warm Texas night all those years ago. But truth be told, we all could use that advice.

For the act of claiming victory is more foolish now than ever.

There is always more work to be done. In an era when information and collaboration travel digitally, the next challenge beckons around the corner.

Changing tastes make what’s acceptable today unacceptable tomorrow. Relentless innovation accelerates the demise of those who refuse to adapt. And the existential threat of violent extremism persists, no matter how relentlessly we beat it back.

Yet, it seems we can’t help ourselves. We can’t stop raising our arms in triumph and beating our chests, even as the goalposts for these issues drift ever further away.

Don’t believe me? Consider this.

There was a time when entertainers like R. Kelly, Bill Cosby, Michael Jackson and Kevin Spacey were the toast of the town. We talked about their brilliance and their talent — and turned the other way as they abused the power of their celebrity.

There was a time when quarterly earnings from Sears and Kodak drew news coverage. We made the Sears catalog a staple of our holiday shopping lists and planned around Kodak Moments — dismissing the notion that such references would ever be obsolete.

And there was a time we spoke of the end of segregation, the end of toxic radicalism, and the end of hate — conveniently forgetting that such troublesome ideas are like a Hydra, and don’t just die with the body they’re housed in.

Over and over we’ve declared victory too early. And in each case, the collateral damage was massive.

We should know better than this. We should recognize that life can rarely be placed into neat little boxes, each topped with a bow.

No, life is a messy, unpredictable journey. A constant parade of experiences and challenges to claw our way through. An abundant set of opportunities for us to pick ourselves up and reach for something greater.

We’re better off embracing that climb, and the inevitable change that comes with it. We’re better off preparing for what’s ahead than celebrating what’s imminent.

So, let’s not make a mockery of ourselves. Let’s not get egg on our face.

Timing is everything. Best to get it right.

Accomplishments and Stepping Stones

Celebrate good times. Come on!

If you’ve been to any party or other social gathering with a boombox, you’ve likely heard this song.

And you probably saw someone too old, too overweight or too uncoordinated — or maybe all three — gleefully letting loose on the dance floor to Kool and the Gang’s upbeat rhythms.

It’s an odd mixture. Big smiles, cringeworthy dance moves and a song we rarely listen to on any other occasion.

Yet, it’s as much a part of our culture as Apple Pie and Fireworks on the Fourth of July.

For we are wired to go all-out to recognize accomplishments. To rent out that hotel ballroom, put on our formal wear, hire the expensive DJ and invite all our family and friends to come join us.

We do this for weddings, birthdays and graduations. For anniversaries and reunions. If there’s an accomplishment to be had, it will be celebrated with glamour and gusto.

At first glance, it all seems innocuous enough. After all, what’s so wrong about one night of fun?

A lot, it turns out.

There is a phrase making the rounds. One still riding the embers of the afterglow, a decade after it went viral.

That phrase? Start With Why.

Simon Sinek introduced the phrase to the world through a TEDx Talk and a bestselling book. And many of us have been finding our Why ever since.

On the whole, this is a good thing. We operate better — as people, corporations and social systems — when we have a clear North Star.

Purpose drives passion. Passion drives productivity. And productivity drives results.

But the Start With Why model is not a panacea. It’s a finite resource, meant to be used in moderation. And we’ve spread it way too thin.

Consider this. Many 5-year-olds these days will have a Pre-K Graduation. They’ll put on a miniature cap and gown and pose for pictures. All in front of their beaming parents.

What is the Why behind this celebration? Those kids in the caps and gowns haven’t even gone to school yet. The experience of sitting in those tiny desks, reading what the teacher is writing on the whiteboard — it’s all foreign to them.

No, these Pre-K graduations are all for the parents. It’s another photo opportunity, another chance for a social media status update showcasing their child’s latest accomplishment. Even if that accomplishment is simply being at a daycare center 45 hours a week, while their parents are at the office.

The celebration does not match the occasion.

Compare this with my Kindergarten graduation. My class had a barbecue on an early summer evening with our teachers in the school’s recess yard. Our parents weren’t allowed to attend.

I remember being nervous at first. I had hardly ever been away from my parents or grandparents after dark at that point in my life, and I didn’t know what to expect. But after several hours of running around outside, eating burgers and toasting marshmallows on a campfire, I was actually bummed when my parents came to pick me up. I wanted to stay longer.

The barbecue was a celebration. But it was very down to earth.

I don’t remember feeling as if I had accomplished anything in particular. I just remember having fun hanging out with my friends and teachers.

And for a shy, introverted kid, that was sufficient.

Our daily lives are full of accomplishments these days.

If you participate in a 5K race, you’ll get a finisher medal. Even if it takes you an hour and a half to walk the course.

If you’re a teenage girl, you get to sport a fancy evening gown and ride in a limo. Simply for turning sixteen.

And if you’re done with daycare, you get that Pre-K graduation.

These disparate celebrations have one thing in common. They’re really all about showing up.

About making your way to the 5K course. About waking up on your sixteenth birthday. About being at that daycare program day after day — even if you’re too young to have anywhere else to go anyway.

Is this really how we want to define accomplishment? As the moments we reach by default?

I certainly hope not.

For accomplishments are not about the end of a chapter. They’re not about the changing of a calendar field. Or adding another year to our age.

Those are arbitrary occurrences that occur without our direct influence.

No, accomplishments — true accomplishments — are that which we attain through transformation. They’re markers of the change we either initiate or manage. They’re our reflection after we get to the other side of that tunnel.

When it comes to our personal lives, marriage is an accomplishment. So is the advent of parenthood.

On the work side of the equation, earning a promotion to a new position can be an accomplishment. And if your work leads to a positive change in society, that’s an accomplishment as well.

Simply showing up is not sufficient. To realize an accomplishment, you have to give something more.

As I write this, I am not far removed from my MBA graduation.

Not long ago, I put on a cap, gown and decorative hood. I walked across a stage in a basketball arena, and was handed a diploma cover. I posed for endless pictures, holding my smile in place until my face hurt.

In the weeks after this occasion, dozens of people offered congratulations. They talked about what a significant achievement this was, and asked me what I had planned to do next.

The thing is, I’m actually not done with my business school classes yet.

My MBA program actually holds ceremonies for summer graduates three months before the completion date of our classes. So, the inside of that diploma cover is empty. All of those well-wishes premature.

Some of my classmates speak of how odd the whole situation has been. Of how the graduation ceremony felt like a tease.

Yet, I do not share these laments.

I am still not sure what we were celebrating in the first place. Because I don’t view the act of completing an MBA program as an accomplishment.

Now, I’m sure some of my dear readers might consider this statement to be crazy. Perhaps most of them do.

After all, business school is no day at the beach. It’s challenging, stressful and transformative.

But if you boil it all down, an MBA program is a service. A service I paid for and have, at the time of this writing, nearly completely attained.

An MBA can open doors. But, as with any university degree, it alone guarantees me nothing.

So, from that perspective, considering my graduation an accomplishment is akin to getting a trophy for showing up. Not my cup of tea.

This is not to say that such celebrations as an MBA graduation are worthless.

For while I feel the near-completion of a business school regimen is not significant on its own, the opportunities it can unlock certainly are.

Those opportunities, when realized, represent the true accomplishments from this endeavor.

But they’re only possible if you go through the ringer first. If you show up and don’t give up. If you do the seemingly ordinary things that lead you to sport a cap and gown. The very things that lead to a disproportionate of well-wishes from onlookers.

Society considers the aggregation of these mundane moments as accomplishments. I prefer to call them stepping stones.

Such a term represents the long game, not the endgame. It illustrates a fluid state of affairs — one where each seminal moment leads to the next challenge.

The stepping stone analogy taps into the power of connection.

Of the ties that bind between our experiences.

Of how, in the words of Semisonic, Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

There is something blissfully pure about that concept.

I find strength in it. I’m sure you can as well.

Sure, it’s not quite as fun as throwing a party for the next milestone. And it might demand more introspection than we’re comfortable with.

But that dash of perspective keeps us aligned. It inspires us to keep climbing, keep aspiring, keep achieving.

That’s a great gift to give ourselves and those around us. 

Let’s give it.

We Rise

If I had to distill my overall life philosophy into three words, it would be the following.

Together we rise.

It means that success is not a zero-sum game. That we can work together to see the change we aspire to achieve.

In essence, this philosophy is an extension of the old adage A rising tide lifts all boats. Yet, in this case, the observed change does not come from the whims of Mother Nature. Instead it’s driven by the will of our nature.

The rise comes from a place of selflessness, sharing and compassion. From a place of sacrifice and humility. From a place of recognition for the unmatched potential of societal change.

And it comes from a basic realization. We did not get here alone.

It’s a simple fact. But it’s one that can gradually take the air out of us, like a slow leak in a tire.

Why? Because we feed off a narrative of self-made grandeur. Of pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps and driving our own success. Of independent prosperity.

This narrative, of course, is ridiculous. We’re not born knowing how to walk, talk, eat solid food or clean up after ourselves. We’ve had help from Day One. And that assistance has often stretched into adulthood.

Yet, the self-made man narrative is pervasive because it has roots in our heritage. Frontier settlers in early America did indeed get by on grit, guile and perseverance.

Still, for all of the stories of Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, there are countless others that are left untold. Stories that ended with frontier settlers scalped, starved or frozen to death.

That would have been the story of the Pilgrims too, had the local natives not helped provide them the tools to survive the brutal winters of present-day Massachusetts.

No, despite tales to the contrary, our society itself did not get here alone. Despite the tall tales of glory, a healthy dose of humility is in the offing when we reflect on what’s allowed us to innovate, iterate and prosper over the past four centuries.

This is why we celebrate Thanksgiving around this time each year. It’s why we maintain an air of kindness and generosity as the calendar winds down.

It’s a noble cause. One that summons the best in all of us.

But why can’t it be omnipresent the entire year around?

We’d be better served putting our oversized egos away, no matter the season. We’d be better off if we considered achievement in the context of We Not Me.

This would require a shift in attitude, from feeling the euphoria of receiving to attaining the satisfaction of giving. It would require more bandwidth, from looking out for ourselves to looking out for others. And it would require a mix of patience and persistence, as improvement does not always come at a constant rate.

But these changes would be well worth it.

No longer would our success come at the cost of others. No longer would our achievements widen the dividing line between the haves and the have nots.

Instead, we would be building shared equity in improvement. We would be forging stronger ties with our community. And, in doing so, we would help solidify our legacy in a way that resonates long after we’re gone.

I’ve long said that when my time is done, I would want my headstone to read: He had a good heart and he cared.

That message is simple. But it need not be revolutionary.

So, as we prepare to give thanks and spread cheer, let’s consider how we can devote ourselves to something greater. Let’s commit to three powerful words.

Together we rise.