Maybe I should go for another $2500?

Credit: Tamdin Wangdu, Tibetan Village Project

I was raised with an acute awareness of the suffering of others. Giving and doing were always part of my childhood. And as I grew in my capacity to give and to serve, that impulse morphed into being a donor and, where I could, serving as a director or trustee for organizations whose missions I valued. I even helped start a few not-for-profit organizations from scratch.

And then, at 7:49 a.m. on April 14th, an earthquake struck Yushu County in the Qinghai Province of China. Yushu is a predominately Tibetan area on the border of Qinghai, Sichuan and the Tibetan Autonomous Region.  The earthquake killed roughly 2,300 people; injured more than 10,000; and destroyed about 85 percent of the houses in Jiegu, a town of 100,000 people.

Qinghai, China

And with that I knew I had to do more. I had to do something other than write a check or opine thoughtfully at a conference table. I had to do more than provide pro bono services or volunteer to teach some students about leadership. Or start yet another organization.

So now I’m doing more: I’m going to Yushu.

In September, I’ll travel with Tamdin Wangdu of the Tibetan Village Project (TVP) to help victims of the earthquake by assisting in bringing in supplies. Tamdin and I will fly to Chengdu where we’ll purchase tents and load them into a truck for delivery to Yushu. If we drive straight from Chengdu, we should reach Yushu in about three days. We’ll then spend at least five days distributing tents and other supplies.

There’s a particular need for warmer, more durable tents for those left homeless by the quake. Initial aid distribution (by the government or under its direction) included one tent per family, regardless of the size of the family. So, for example, a family of eight has to share a single, 12 foot x 12 foot tent.

The average altitude in most earthquake-affected areas is about 13,000 feet (4000 meters) and the area is incredibly windy. Yushu is cold; overnight temperatures in the spring and summer hover around -5°C/23°F. Moreover, winter comes early to the Tibetan Plateau.

Credit: Tamdin Wangdu, Tibetan Village Project

To help fund the effort, I’m hoping to raise $15,000 for additional tents; we hope they’ll last at least three years while homes are being rebuilt. (I’m using the crowd-sourced fundraising platform Firstgiving.com to make giving even easier.) TVP has found a factory in Chengdu that makes high quality tents for the Chinese military. The tents are 22 square meters in size; made from canvas, insulated with a cotton-like material; heavy enough to withstand rainstorms, snow and strong wind; and durable enough to last at least three years. These tents are ideal for families with children since they have space to store a few folding beds, a stove, and other necessities.

To spur this, I’ll match each dollar contributed one for one up to an additional $15,000. Each tent costs $345; $30,000 will buy a lot of tents.

I know. It feels like it’s been a hell of a year, a year where the Earth maybe has had it with us: earthquakes, floods, and that oil drilling disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. Just this past weekend, the New York Times documented the heart-breaking, unbearable conditions in Haiti. I know there are thousands of other calls on your attention and your money.

That’s one of the reasons I’ve never really participated in a broadcast, widespread fundraising effort like this.

But this feels different. The lack of attention this particular disaster has received, for example, is startling. A few really well informed folks I know completely missed the fact that this earthquake even happened. So a large part of my goal, beyond raising the money, is to bring attention to the fact that this happened, that these people are hurting, and that this need is there.

TVP is one of a handful of non-political, non-government organizations operating in the area. When they aren’t doing disaster relief, they’re dedicated to promoting sustainable development while preserving the rich cultural heritage of Tibet. When we’re in the area, we’ll also be meeting with local businesses, trying to help them re-establish themselves. Hands on relief work coupled with creating micro-enterprises; this is the kind of doing more I’ve been waiting to do for a very long time.

Related articles by Zemanta

• China Earthquake, Qinghai Relief: How You Can Help (huffingtonpost.com)
• China Pledges to Repair Quake-Damaged Monasteries (beliefnet.com)
• Over 400 dead in China quake (thehindu.com)
• Chinese earthquakes kill at least 589 (cbc.ca)
• Quake kills 400; destroys homes on Tibet plateau (calgaryherald.com)

So, to be safe, you take another blood test. That test comes back and now there’s little chance there’s any problem; looks like the first test was wrong.

Or then there’s the client, whose teenaged daughter was diagnosed with Lupus the day his $10 million financing closed. Or the other client whose lead investor decided he should be fired the day before the company received a term sheet for a new $5 million investment. Or the woman who, on Friday, agrees to marry her boyfriend only to decide on Monday that he’s not her soul mate.

“How do you do it?” he asked over the phone. “How do you go into the office when all you can think about is what’s happening at home?”

Or in your relationship, I think, or, even, your own body.

“Dramamine,” I tell him, making him laugh.

Up. Down. Down. Up. How do you ride the roller coaster?

How do you survive the everyday, ordinary craziness that defines life?

Meds can help I suppose. But, the only real chance we’ve got of surviving, indeed maybe even thriving in, the chaos of ordinary life is to develop a centered core: A set of beliefs, rituals, and inner-knowledge that not only remains unshakable with every gut-wrenching drop but, in fact, deepens over time into a philosophy that is at once unique and lasting.

I think of my own ritualistic behaviors–rising before dawn, journaling, exercise, and meditation—and see them not only as manifestations of my own beliefs (journaling develops a greater self-awareness; exercise provides the short-term benefit of anxiety-release while promoting long-term fitness, and meditation as a practice of accepting things just as they are), but as a means to create order out of the everyday chaos.

Regardless of the inevitable drops, such core systems of belief steady the self and make the everyday possible.

The problem is that the scarcest resource in any entrepreneur’s life is your time.  Yet we all feel guilty not doling out time for anybody who asks – especially if we were introduced.  I know!  I feel the same way.  I’m trying to embrace my inner “NO” a little more in my life.  One simply can’t take every meeting.

His advice is, in essence, to be honest about the lack of time. When I read the post this morning, I thought of the gift Seth Godin gave me years ago when I was struggling with the same issue…too many meeting requests and not enough time. His gift?

Just say, “I wish I could but I can’t.” Especially when you really wish you could.

The other day, for about the hundreth time this year, I found myself thinking of that little gift when working with a client. Only this time, what the client needed to say No to wasn’t another meeting. It was chasing another bright shiny object, a red rubber ball, another idea.

“What would happen,” I asked him, “if you only had one product to focus on?”

He paused. Then smiled. “We’d ship on time.”

I smiled back.

Saying No to the bright shiny object of yet another idea is terribly powerful. In fact, I often argue, it releases you from competing with yourself, from trying to out do yourself with each new idea.

We’re all a little like Dug the dog in Up. Right in the middle of a sentence, SQUIRREL, we’re distracted by some other thing to do, some other notion, some memory from the past, some idea about the future, some magical silver bullet that will make it all alright. Saying No to the squirrels is liberating.

I have to practice saying No all the time.  Several weeks, after Fred Wilson wrote a post about me,  I had to explain to a potential client that, at that moment, I was unable to take on more clients. He said, “It must be nice to be able to say No to clients.”

Nice? No. It’s hard. In part because I worry some day I might struggle to find clients.  But  mostly it’s hard because I really wish I could help but unfortunately I can’t.

PS. Boy howdy I must be into link baiting today…Mark, Seth, and Fred…all I need to add is a link to Brad Feld and I’ll have hit for the cycle.

You know the feeling…you’re sitting with some colleagues and you’re brain-storming; you can feel your pulse quicken as great ideas, wild ideas, silly ideas rise. One of the “stormers” runs to the white board and starts sketching ideas.

That’s when it usually starts for me. “But we don’t have enough cash,” I’ll say. Or, “we’ll never get their support.” The Buts start tumbling out of my mouth. Miki Kashtan described it to me last week as “the impossibility chatter.” And, if it happens often and frequently enough, the Buts can suck all the energy out of the room.

I was at a board meeting recently and came face to face with the corrosive effects of “but.” This organization has had its troubles of late and this was the first meeting after some particularly disturbing events had been uncovered.

A group of us had spent part of time in a side meeting, a planning meeting, with staff and some ad hoc committee members. We were working to sort through the options regarding a program the organization offers. One option, a compelling option because of a tightening cash situation made worse by the disturbing and recent chain of events, was to kill the program. The other option was to grow it.

The committee was comprised people who favored expansion and our work was to figure out how to make that possible. Over three days, we spent a total of nine hours debating, envisioning, and expanding.

Sure enough, every time we tried to break free, my impossibility chatter would kick and the Buts would come streaming out. And to be fair to myself, I could see how the implicit fear that gives rise to the Buts spreads like a virus in the room.

Just as the energy was about to be depleted, one staffer spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “it seems it’s always my role in such meetings to point out what the problems are with ideas. I hate it. But I feel like I’m being irresponsible if I don’t.”

Suddenly I saw it…the way out of the But Head mentality. Because the truth was, this guy wasn’t letting his impossibility chatter kill the energy, stifle the creativity. He was simply delivering the power of what is.

There’s a difference between allowing the Buts to stop the process of innovation and recognizing the reality of things as they are. That difference may be a nuance, an energy shift, or small substitution of words (such as “and” for “but”) but it can mean the difference between life and death for the innovation process.

Recognizing and accepting things as they are now doesn’t have to limit the way you believe things can be later.  For individuals as well as organizations, if properly integrated into the envisioning process, that recognition can ground the planning, the dreaming, and allow the envisioning to stay connected with the core of who and what we really are.

Or something like that.

But dentists need dentists. And Floyd always went to Mount Pilot to get his hair cut.

Tracey pointed out that I’m mess.  And of course I felt that little tug of shame: Sheesh, what business do I have of “helping” people when I end up spending so much time saying “I’m sorry,” “I didn’t realize,” and “I didn’t know.”

Breathe. Blow a kiss to that Loyal Soldier telling me I should be good, better, best—perfect even. Breathe.  Blow a kiss and let it go.

The thing is, we’re all in this together. We’re a community of helpers, a sangha of fellow travelers, and we’ve got to work together. I mirror you. You mirror me. I hold your heart. You hold mine.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama has/had amazing teachers. Let me repeat that: HHDL has/had teachers. Tells you something about that interdependence principle, eh?

Oh and, of course Floyd could have used a Flowbee but he’d never get it slicked down just right.

From Michael Carrol’s The Mindful Leader.

1. Take time to meditate, reflect, and study.

2. Cultivate a household that appreciates the training of a mindful leader.

3. Create moments of silence: retreat to be alone on occasion.

4. Contemplate the impermanent nature of wealth and career.

5. Show respect to those who teach you how to become a mindful leader.

6. On occasion, meditate and study with others who aspire to become mindful leaders.

7. Work hard to open to life’s circumstances; step beyond resistance.

8. Permit life to reveal its fundamental nature: free, vast, and confident.

9. Put others ahead of your self; focus on promoting their welfare.

10. Carefully examine all insults; quietly wish the best to those who are rude.

11. Clean up messes and difficulties, even if they are not of your making.

12. Treat adverse circumstances as your teacher.

13. When hurt by those you trust and love, show kindness.

14. Never lose courage in the face of physical pain and difficult circumstances.

15. When praised, carefully examine your tendency toward pride and arrogance.

16. Take full responsibility for your anger; lay it down gently but quickly.

17. Abandon addiction and compulsive attractions; savor pleasures with dignity.

18. Dispel the blinding effects of making “me” the center of everything.

19. When grieving, contemplate the passing nature of everything.

20. Enjoy bestowing gifts on others.

21. Cultivate your natural tendency to be decent toward others.

22. Patiently invite all that arises-good, bad, happy, sad.

23. Never give up inspiring others and contributing to the world.

24. Rest in the ease of synchronized mind.

25. Recognize that the world is free of your story lines. Notice the situation directly.

26. Reflect on your mistakes, make them friends, not enemies.

27. Create a household environment that is uplifted and wise.

28. Abandon harsh language.

29. Be sharp and quick to cut the root of arrogance and stupidity.

30. Dedicate all success to the benefit of others.

“So what do I do?” she asked.

“[E]ach of us,” writes Bill Plotkin,

has a survival dance and a sacred dance, but the survival dance must come first. Our survival dance, a foundational component of self-reliance, is what we do for a living—our way of supporting ourselves physically and economically…Everybody has to have a survival dance. Finding and creating one is our first task upon leaving our parents’ or guardians’ home.

Once you have your survival dance established, you can wander, inwardly and outwardly, searching for clues to your sacred dance, the work you were born to do. This work may have no relation to your job. Your sacred dance sparks your greatest fulfillment and extends your truest service to others. You know you’ve found it when there’s little else you’d rather be doing. Getting paid for it is superfluous. You would gladly pay others, if necessary, for the opportunity.

Later, back home, another client asked a slight variation on the same question: “What do I tell my daughter?” The daughter is in high school and is just beginning to ask the deeper questions. Knowing what we know about the need to find your passion, or The Element as Ken Robinson calls it, what do we say to our kids who are applying to colleges or graduating into this awful economy where, despite the 13^th Amendment, it’s becoming increasingly acceptable to pay people nothing for their work?

I’ve a client who’s worked harder than anyone I know to get his idea funded and every day there’s another impediment, another roadblock. And every day the bank account drops, the blood pressure rises, the clock ticks.

What do we tell ourselves about committing to our soul’s work, our Sacred Dance, when we can’t even pay the damn bills?

I struggled with my responses. I began questioning my own work, my own beliefs, the notions and insights I’d gained in so many years of wandering. The questions were especially poignant and provocative because my oldest son is deep in the same struggle now. On an evening walk with with his father in Riverside Park, at the fry station at Shake Shack, he asks himself the same questions.

I hated the place that left me. I felt unable to write.

Slowly, slowly though it’s been coming together. Yesterday, between sessions, I scribbled another note: “Surviving the Sacred Dance.” I thought, maybe that’s it; maybe that’s the deeper question…how do we survive living out the sacred?

I then thought of those who, in manifesting their deepest soul expression, still struggle to pay the bills.

This morning, as I rose from my meditation cushion, I thought, “No. That’s not it. The question is simpler. Simpler and harder: What do we say to those we love, including ourselves, about the balance between the two?”

Of course it’s not enough to say “Get a job and find your passion later.” That’s The Deferred Life Plan. Nor is it right to say it’s okay to ignore the realities of every day. After all: “Before Enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.”

Re-reading Plotkin I went further than I usually do when I quote him to clients:

Hence, the importance of self-reliance, not merely the economic kind implied by a survival dance but also of the social, psychological, and spiritual kind. To find your sacred dance, after all, you will need to take significant risks… By honing psychological self-reliance, you will find it easier to keep focused on your goals in the face of resistance or incomprehension, initial failure or setbacks, or economic or organizational obstacles. And spiritual self-reliance will maintain your connection with the deepest truths and what you’ve learned about how the world works…

Then I understood. Two weeks ago, I replied to an email from JC suggesting that he try to find the sacred within the mundane, within the survival. Sounds good, I thought, but I knew it was hollow. It’s desperately important to be able to see the sacred within the present moment—even if it’s pulling double espressos at Starbucks. I knew that to be true. Yet, again, it felt hollow, empty. Finally I read this (as if for the first time):

…The first step is creating a foundation of self-reliance: a survival dance of integrity that allows you to be in the world in a good way—a way that is psychologically sustaining, economically adequate, socially responsible, and environmentally sound. Cultivating right livelihood, as the Buddhists call it, is essential training and foundation for your soul work; it’s not a step that can be skipped.

The gift of the mundane, the gift of the survival dance is self-reliance. And self-reliance is as sacred as any vocation, any calling from the divine. Without the ability to withstand the pathology of every day, we’re lost—no matter how inspired our dreams.

“Hello”

“Why the hell does my board act like that?”

“Good morning, James,” I answered and we both laughed.

We talked through the upcoming financing. Some of investors—folks who came into the company only in their last round—were already jockeying around terms and prices of the upcoming round. Some of the other directors—investors who’d been with the company since the beginning—were also beginning to draw a hard line around terms that they would find acceptable.

In a sense, while they were all directors, as investors they were beginning to play a game of chicken with the company’s financing—each holding fast to a position deemed best for the shareholders they represent and yet, as the negotiations would tick on, the company’s ability to actually raise the needed funds could be jeopardized.

After the session, I asked him he if I could quote him.

“Sure,” he wrote, “just let me know if I ever end up there with an actual video recording of me calling [the board member] a ‘fuckhead’ – it’s not that I’d be bothered by that, it’s just that I’d want to make sure I sent the link to all my friends.”

A year ago I was sitting in office of the CEO of a company on whose board I served. The recently elected chair and the CEO were screaming at each other and, as usual, I found myself trying to meditate.

“What you don’t understand,” said the chair rising from his chair and trying to tower over the seated CEO, “is that you’re here,” and he held out his right hand, palm down, “and the board is here,” and he moved his left hand on top of the right, again palm down, “and I’m here,” and he placed his right hand over the left.

Capo dei capi—boss of bosses.

My client’s question was spot on: Why does this happen? What is it that makes the relationship between board members, investors, and management so tricky? And, even when you remove the notion of director as investor (or investor representative) you can still end up with troubled relations.

The board/management relationship is tricky, complex, and nuanced. There are few structures within traditional businesses that are quite like it. Most businesses, indeed most organizations, are built on some variation of a command and control structure. Because of their inherent hierarchical nature, it’s often clear who’s in charge, who makes the decisions, and who’s ultimately responsible.

Even in enlightened business, as people like Warren Bennis have pointed out, where the power and decision making reflects not the pyramid of classic command and control but the inverted pyramid of the ways in which information, and therefore, accountability should flow, there’s relative clarity.

But when it comes to boards of directors, confusion is often the norm and, as a result, there’s often frustration and anger. For example, does the CEO work for the board of directors or the company? Does the Board “work” for the company? Who holds individual board members accountable for the actions? And what is the relationship between board and staff members?

And underlying all of this is the responsibility to represent the shareholders.

I’ve served on dozens of boards of directors; this includes public and private companies, for profit businesses and not-for-profit organizations and I think the core troubles stem from a misunderstanding of the key elements of the roles.

Directors aren’t quite like any other management position in an organization. They have power but often times lack the information to wield that power as well as managers. They have perspective—often times significantly more experience than senior management but, by the nature of their responsibility, they are disconnected from the day-to-day operations.

Directors need to remember they’ve a delicate balancing act of influencing without dictating, and engaging and sharing their experience and perspective by virtue of their gravitas as much as a result of their power.

Management, too, needs to remember that the task of being a director or a trustee is unlike any other job one has ever had. There’s an explicit accountability that goes along with the job and that fact, combined with the implicit lack of information, can cause most folks to feel terribly anxious and to act in awful ways.

Everyone on both sides of that divide need to take a step back, see things from the other view, and work towards making the board as functional as possible.

As my friends and colleagues are tired of hearing me say, I’ve never seen a board guarantee an organization’s success but I have seen it guarantee its failure.

Alone, on the ice, for 30 days. Sheesh. I thought of Ben, again, as I dragged myself to the gym this morning at 5:30. He’ll be blogging via satellite phone and you can follow him @polarben. Thanks Ben, for changing my life.