Resource Management Innovations
LISTEN TO THE MUSIC ... don't miss this one .
Where does Vision come from? Part I
“People who dance to a different beat have always been called crazy (or worse) by those who can’t hear the music.”
This is a (true) life story … although concentrated; there is no need to add water. Every report card I ever brought home from school (from a hopelessly inadequate system) began with the narrative disclaimer … “Ricky is a dreamer”. (That will get you a D by the way). In no way was this ever intended to be a compliment about the visionary apprentice … it was in every instance intended to remind all who would read the interim evaluation that he was just not like the others. In the 50’s … based on all known metrics, the boy is quite the disappointment.
The Institution of K - Grade 6
(It was as cheerful as it looks)
Strangely, I wore their disappointment as a badge of honor. My earliest memories incorporated the thoughts of 1) This is not how normal people live, and 2) This is not how ‘it’ is supposed to be. ‘It’ was an amalgam of critical dysfunction in the adult lives I saw around me. I cast no blame here, as I also knew and understood (How ~ eludes me, but I have some theories) that ‘these people were products themselves of a long since broken and dysfunctional system … but I promised myself I would not be a product of theirs’.
No One. No One! Not once in my formative years, did anyone ever ask … “what are you dreaming about”. It occurred to me very early and quite naturally that some knowing is never pursued, only received. And for that you have to be still. To listen. To watch and wonder. In a post war production culture where busyness was a fetish and being still was lazyness … thinking was sloth. The example provided however was unimaginable. They were miserable. Anger was normal. That was their desired state? That’s what a complete body of knowledge looked and acted like? Yikes. I always felt sorry for them (my critics). Sincerely. They missed a lot of good music. A lot of joy. A lot of laughter. (Which made them really mad). I was roundly, publically criticized because (Oh! The Horror!) … I only wanted a good time. That’s a quote. I always (I guess I still do) found that odd. The alternative? No … to desire a lifetime supply of Castor Oil?! Man, what are you thinking? There was just nothing behind the doors with Ozzie and Harriet that I found desirous. My midnight train to Georgia was about to leave the station.
Did I love the 60’s! I was in my junior year in high school, but I loved the license for sober second thought it provided. By the time the 70’s rolled around (and The Doobie Brothers rock classic ‘Listen To the Music’) … well, not only was I ‘normal’ … it was too late for the system, I finally fit. I had assimilated into a culture that embraced critical thinking, without a critical spirit. I was alive. I grew. There was one obstacle remaining. There were still a disproportionate number of folks who couldn’t hear the music … and would cast a curious (but slightly more polite) glance at those 'young people' that did. Until Joy.
I could hardly comprehend the circus that was released within me, when this most remarkable young woman was introduced to me and asked, as natural as could be … “what is it you dream about?” It was Labor Day 1972, I can tell you the day & time if you wish … as I knew this was a game changer, ‘Joy could hear the music’! If anyone had ever asked “how do you know this is the one” … Joy not only knew the frequency I was tuned to, she knew the station and the song that was playing! I have been asked to describe what that was like. The best answer I have is that this is an example of where language fails us. Maybe The Doobie Brothers have a song for this, but I have no words. Finally … I have someone who sees it, hears it and gets it. I think James Brown might have characterized us as soul mates. For the first time, I have some rather magnificent company. I loved the 70's. Now I've got some traction. I can take back the ground I had lost in the 50's & 60's.
Fast forward about a year, and Joy finds herself at the front of an Armed Forces Chapel, saying “I Do” to a Chaplain, and in an instant she is an Army wife, enroute to a four year honeymoon to a combat unit in Europe. Yup … it’s quite an experience with a photo album to match. One that makes me smile some 30 years later just to think about it. These were very, very defining times. Maybe more important, they were character building. It was a time of discerning:
• Who am I?
• What do I do best?
• What matters most, and
• What must be done next? ... the stuff of vision casting and mission building. The questions that must and can be answered by each of us, if we are to live intentional, purposeful lives.
We’ll pick it up there in Part II … but the message in this chapter is this:
• Is there a distinction between my career and my calling?
• My career is what I am paid to do.
• My calling is what I am made to do.
• “What If” … I could get paid to do what I was made to do?
• Having ‘Purpose’ in my life … and living a purpose-full life. That's not crazy.
• Consider the alternative … a purpose-less life. Don’t we see a lot of that?
• Isn’t that what fuels in large part this whole ‘anxiety’ market?
Let’s talk about that some more in the next installment … ‘Living a Purpose-Full Life’.
Cheers;
Rick @ RMI
Posted By: Rick Kneeshaw 2010/06/12
Categories: Reflections: Lessons Learned