No Map. No Guide. No Limits.

Say what you will about the NFL, or professional football, I love the Super Bowl. Every year, the game manages to produce some applicable nugget or insight of leadership, passion, or life. After all, if nothing else, the Super Bowl is unquestionably leadership and passion played out on a high-stress, high-stakes stage, in front of a huge audience … which makes it prime material for Shakespeare-style drama and lessons.

Last year, the New England Patriots-Seattle Seahawks contest (which turned on Seattle’s end-of-game decision to pass on a second-and-goal and the 1 yard line) gave me terrific material for a discussion about decision-making under pressure. This year, the nugget I found most interesting had to do with the leadership quality known as resiliency. And, oddly enough, it came after the final whistle blew.

As it happens, I’m currently working on a book about the power and importance of an authentic voice–which I define as each person’s most authentic inner self. To bring your authentic voice into the world is to find a way to express your deepest held beliefs, values, unique personality traits and ideas, and to build a career and life that reflects those elements and uses them to have meaningful impact.

Speaking and leading with an authentic voice can give a person an extraordinary amount of personal power, for several reasons. First, if you care deeply about something, you’ll fight harder for it, with the power of passion behind you. Second, audiences sense when people are being authentic in their passion for a cause or a position they’re advocating, and are more likely to believe and support those leaders. And third, finding and embracing your true, authentic voice involves some honest, humble admissions of who you are, and who you are not, on the inside. So people who speak and lead with an authentic voice tend to be less arrogant and brassy than leaders who are merely charismatic. There is character and depth to an authentic voice, which is part of what gives it its power.

So how does this relate to the Super Bowl? [click to continue…]

I set out, last week, to write a post on the death of Henry Worsley–a 55-year old retired British Army officer who was attempting to be the first person to cross Antarctica alone and unaided. An ill and exhausted Worsley gave up the quest a mere 30 miles from his goal, after a journey of 913 miles over 71 days. He was airlifted to a hospital in Punta Arenas, Chile, where doctors discovered he was suffering from bacterial peritonitis (infection of the lining of the abdominal cavity). Despite undergoing emergency surgery, Worsley died soon afterward.

On the one hand, Worsley’s fatal attempt underscores two things: first, that there are still adventure “firsts” still out there to be conquered, and second, that the risks of those adventures are still very, very real. But also noteworthy in Worsley’s saga is that at the beginning of January, he stopped at the Amundsen-Scott research station at the South Pole, where he could have gotten medical supplies or treatment, or other supplies.

Because Worsley wanted to preserve the “unaided” part of his trans-Antarctic quest, however, he intentionally refrained from taking any kind of assistance. (The first trans-Antarctic crossing was accomplished in 1957-58, Norwegian Borge Ousland successfully crossed it solo and unaided in 1997, but used a kite to help pull his sledge, and in 2012, a meteorologist named Felicity Aston successfully skied, solo, across Antarctica (like Worsley was attempting to do), but received two supply drops along the way.)

It’s impossible to know whether, had Worsley taken some assistance or been evaluated there, he might have survived, or even finished his quest. But having help available and turning it down does complicate how one views or classifies Worsley’s endeavor. [click to continue…]

“Why Doesn’t Everybody…”?

For years, I have joked about this iconic question, usually posed by innocent people who do not have any first-hand experience with the (fill-in-the-blank) topic they’re asking about. Lane’s rule of thumb: If everybody doesn’t do something … whether it’s start their own business, renovate their own house, or own a polished-aluminum airplane … there’s a reason, and it generally has something to do with the risk, cost, or work involved.

Much as I love working for myself, I understand quite clearly why everyone doesn’t do it. And although I support any passion-inspired entrepreneurial effort, I’m also the first to caution that following that road is not the easiest option in life. According to a post I wrote back in 2009, some 70-85% of venture-capital-based entrepreneurial efforts fail. But a new study that’s just in the process of being published has a different–and far more encouraging–perspective on the risks of trying an entrepreneurial enterprise.

Gustavo Manso, Associate Professor at UC Berkeley’s Haas School of Business, used results from a 33-year longitudinal study of 12,686 people who were ages 15-22 when the survey started in 1979, to determine how much of a risk or cost those who had attempted an entrepreneurial venture really paid. (The group was interviewed annually up through 1994, and every other year since then. The last year they were surveyed was 2012.)

After “restricting the analysis to [a] nationally representative [group] of 6,111 individuals,” and then subtracting any people who did not work, Manso came up with a survey sample of 5,415 people. He then looked at the income differences of those who: a) worked a salaried job their whole careers, b) tried an entrepreneurial effort and then went back to a salaried job, and c) tried an entrepreneurial effort and remained self-employed. To try to make the comparisons as even as possible, Manso also tried to pair people across all three groups who had similar characteristics in terms of demographics, educational attainment, cognitive ability, self esteem, and belief in self-determination vs. external factors (chance, fate and luck), in terms of how their life would turn out.

The results were surprising … but then again, not surprising, once I thought about it a bit more. [click to continue…]

I began my new year (the 7th one writing this blog!) with the unexpected treat of dinner with two friends I’ve known since I was 12 years old. In truth, they are the only friends I’ve known since I was 12. But I know I’m lucky to still have something in common and keep in touch with even two. We hadn’t seen each other in a while, but as is the case with really good, long-term friends, it was as if we’d walked out of the room yesterday, and walked back in today … having stepped through some weird time-machine that left us essentially the same, but added age to our features overnight.

Life friends are a special treasure, for many reasons. For starters, they can offer a valuable historical archive of your life. Talk to someone who’s known you forever about some irksome question like why you picked such a difficult road in life, and they can give you feedback like, “But don’t you remember? Even when you were 14, you said what you really wanted to do was explore the world.” Suddenly you remember, and it all makes more sense.

But conversations with friends who’ve paced you over a lifetime also tend to have a longer arc and view. We know the span of each other’s childhoods, youthful struggles, marriages, children, and middle age. We can see the changes; have heard about the challenges. We’ve seen how different choices and roads have panned out in each other’s lives. Not quite the same thing as getting to live three different versions of your own life, but a glimpse, at least, down paths not taken … or taken ahead of you.

If you’re lucky, all those years and paths will also lead to some collective wisdom that’s kind of fun to share, as you reflect on how it differs from what you thought when you were just starting out in life. (In quick order, for example, the three of us had agreed on four immutable laws regarding helping others: You can’t 1) make someone else happy, 2) get them a job, 3) get them to change, or 4) get them to take more ownership of a choice or event than they’re willing to do. Of course, as one of my friends pointed out, also on the list of things that don’t work … is telling someone that those above-mentioned things don’t work. We had a good laugh over that one.) [click to continue…]

The holiday season, as delightful as all the lights and decorations are, can actually be a tough time to feel happy, because we’re bombarded on all sides with images of “perfect” lives and holidays–and we humans, it turns out, depend quite heavily on comparing our lives with others when we decide how happy we are. (Counter-intuitive as it might seem, the states with the highest levels of self-reported “happiness” also have the highest levels of suicide–which researchers attribute to the fact that if everyone else seems happy, our imperfect lives seem even worse. New Jersey, which rates 47th in terms of happiness, also rates 47th in terms of suicides. Misery apparently really does love company.)

So what do you do if you don’t have the happy-ending, picture-postcard success and perfect family bliss going on in your life? Short of channeling Scrooge or moving to a state where a lot of other people feel as if they’re struggling, too?

Interestingly enough, some people without a current “happy ending” situation are still quite happy … a point that came to mind again, a few days ago, while reading a New York Times profile of the actresses Viola Davis (who just became the first African-American to win an Emmy award for Best Actress) and Edie Falco (who has won numerous awards for her roles on both The Sopranos and Nurse Jackie). Both Davis and Falco are in their 50s now, and both struggled for years before attaining career success. [click to continue…]

Anyone who’s read much of my work knows that I’m a big believer in the power of passion. I’ve even began researching a book on the topic (it’s in the queue, after I finish my current project on the power and importance of voice).

Having said that, I’m also well aware that the word “passion” is often misunderstood, and overused to the point of being a cliché. Search “passion business quotes” or “passion business success”–or even just “passion”–and you’ll see what I mean. But clichés, as a writing teacher once told me, are really just words, ideas, or storylines that are oversimplified or used too blithely, on a surface level, without enough understanding or supporting material to make their use feel both specific and authentic.

Passion is, indeed, a critical element in business, adventure, entrepreneurial, team or individual accomplishment. And it’s also an astoundingly powerful force. But it’s also a force that’s far more complex than many motivational speakers would acknowledge. (Hence the book on the subject.) “Passion” is also a term that’s often misunderstood and misapplied. And I was reminded of this fact again this past weekend, reading a column “Lady Gaga and the Life of Passion” by New York Times columnist David Brooks.

Reading Brooks’ musings about what makes people passionate, my first thought was that he must not have any first-hand experience in the subject. He talked about passion as an intellectual concept, in the third person, and he talked about “people who live with passion” as if they were a foreign tribe he was studying as a scientifically removed anthropologist. He wondered what propels people to seek passion. Perhaps, he said, they “have an intense desire to complete themselves,” or “are propelled by wounds that need urgent healing or by a fear of loneliness or fragmentation.”

Brooks also seems to view passion as something interchangeable with exuberant emotionalism. People with passion, he said, “have the courage to be themselves with abandon”–Lady Gaga being his prime example.

As someone who both studies passion and knows, first-hand, about passionate pursuits, I feel compelled to offer a different (and, at least in my view, more accurate) take on the subject. For starters, passion is not the same thing as exuberant abandon. Both elements can exist in the same person, to be sure. But passion, while a potent motivational force, is often felt and expressed by people who are masterfully controlled; who have a fierce but quiet determination for a pursuit, or to achieve a goal. [click to continue…]

Although I’ve had more than my share of physical adventure in my life, most of my posts and discussions on this blog have to do with bigger life adventure, and the questions, issues, and decisions that influence our professional and personal paths. When the opportunity presents itself, however, I still have a passion for physical adventure. There’s an energy and purity about a physical experience that clears the head for a bit … and reminds me, again, of all the lessons physical adventure is so good at teaching, and which apply so well to all other life adventures.

So when the CEO of a submarine company contacted me a couple of months ago and asked if I’d like to try my hand at piloting one of the company’s personal submarines–machines he believed “flew” very much like an aircraft underwater–it took me about a nanosecond to sign on. (For anyone just tuning in, I’ve been an pilot for almost 30 years, which is why the CEO thought I’d be a good person to write about the experience.)

I actually wrote two articles about the experience–one for Elite Traveler magazine (July/August issue), and one for Sporty’s (who published my book Unforgettable a few years back). Rather than recount the whole story again here, I invite you to read the story directly on Sporty’s website.

All I can say is, it was surreal and amazing–some combination of Jules Verne, James Bond, and Dr. Doolittle’s giant sea snail. The ocean is a truly amazing–and unexplored–place, especially 1,000 meters beneath the sea. As the CEO put it, “we know more about the far side of the moon than we do about the deep ocean.” So it was a pretty amazing experience to be able to explore even a little piece of that depth, with leather-seat comfort and an almost unlimited viewing field. Worth reading!

Last night, Jon Stewart signed off as the host of The Daily Show, his award-winning late-night talk/variety/political satire and critique show, after a run of 16 years and almost 2,600 episodes. For starters, that represents a prolific amount of creative output. (By comparison: the popular television show Cheers produced only 275 original episodes, Friends produced 236, and the original Star Trek? A mere 79.)

But the move also surprised many, regardless of whether they liked his show or not, because Stewart is leaving at what still might be considered the top of his game. Great football quarterbacks do not, as a rule, walk away when they’re still completing passes for 375 yards a game. What’s more, Stewart was not just successful. He also had impact, and he had the potential to keep having impact with that show, for some time to come.

Stewart’s agent, who is undoubtedly paid by commission, is also probably wringing his or her hands over such a star talent walking away from a safe, high-paying gig after building up such a strong reputation and track record. Most people spend a decade or two climbing to the top of their professions and then, with big sighs of relief, stay there until they retire, hoping to accrue the maximum pay and benefit from paying all those ladder-climbing dues. Doubly so in a creative field (acting, comedy, art, music, writing, etc.), where one big hit does not guarantee future success in other endeavors. And why would anyone walk away from something when the pay is big and the ability to have impact (something many working professionals crave but do not feel they have in their jobs) is still present?

Why, in other words, would anyone leave the security of a really comfortable, well-paying and even meaningful job … and leap? [click to continue…]

I talk a lot, on this site, about the importance of purpose and meaning, especially in terms of how to weigh conflicting life decisions. I devoted two posts in December (More Evidence on the Power of Purpose and Community and More on the Importance of a Meaningful Job and Path), in fact, to the the power and impact–not just on others, but even on your own mental fatigue or energy levels–of feeling as if what you do matters.

I also believe that, from a company or organizational standpoint, the best way to improve the performance of a team, and build teamwork, is to get its members to realize why their common goal matters; why getting across that goal line is meaningful, for reasons other than just the bottom line. A team united by a common belief that their common goal is both important and meaningful is far more likely to work cohesively and effectively toward it. A vision of accomplishing something important and meaningful is the fuel that sparks passion, dedication and perseverance for that goal.

Given all that, I was both intrigued and a bit taken aback when I read a column in The New York Times, a while ago, entitled The Problem With Meaning. The thrust of it was that although we all feel this hunger and desire for “meaning” in our lives, pursuing our own definition of “meaning” (as opposed to following a societal guideline about what is meaningful) is a kind of selfish, squishy kind of motivation, “based solely on emotion,” and “fleeting.”

It helps to know that the author, David Brooks, was working on a book about “character” at the time he wrote this particular column. It also helps to know he is a big believer in social structures as motivators.. He believes, as he says in the piece, that people who have had some of the greatest impact on the world (Nelson Mandela, Albert Schweitzer, Abraham Lincoln) “subscribed to moral systems … that recommended specific ways of being and had specific structures of what is right and wrong, and had specific disciplines about how you might get better over time.” (I presume Brooks means after Mandela renounced violence as a valid means to his ends.)

Brooks concedes that a desire for “meaning” in one’s life is about more than material success. That it’s about “giving,” “serving others,” and “significance.” His issue, it seems, is that we allow everyone to decide for themselves what is meaningful, and for how long. Today, you might find meaning in working for social justice, but tomorrow, you might decide there’s more meaning to be found in painting. And in the end, the person you’re really serving in that desire for meaning is yourself, not others.

Two points there. First, I think Brooks is conflating an individually-driven search for meaning with a lack of long-term commitment to any particular goal, effort, or cause. And I don’t think those two elements are linked. [click to continue…]