AndCucumber

Gardening is my new Zen zone. By that I mean the full immersive experience of using my body to chop, lug, and pull. My mind goes on cruise control as I tackle each physical task. In the process, thoughts bubble up from my subconscious and cohere into ideas.

I was recently pondering how to create more inclusive workplaces. How can any leader help their teams thrive by fostering an environment where everyone feels they belong? I have thoughts on this topic (and data too), but my mind kept wandering, so that’s for another post.

I wondered: what if other people's opinions of you didn't matter? What if you could thrive anywhere, regardless of environment? That’s hard to do. We are social beings who put a lot of stock in what others say. Asking someone to ignore their surroundings is like telling them to breathe normally next to a smoky campfire without a mask.

But what if the smoke didn't reach your lungs? What if you were immune to the words floating around you?

Systemic issues need time to resolve. They may outlive us all. Pursuing a cause often means planting seeds for a garden we won’t see. It’s still the right thing to do. But at a human level, we need nourishment and safety today, not just ideals and hope tomorrow.

So amidst building that better future, what can one person do? Care less about what most people say. Anne Lamott keeps a 1 inch list of opinions she values. For everyone else, she gives no mental real estate.

I once cared too much about universal approval. I thought it made me empathetic. Really it fed an needy ego. I wore myself out trying to please all. Felt I shouldn’t be places if I didn’t fit in. Took criticisms personally. Everyone’s words seemed to matter.

Over time, I became harder to bruise by asking myself one question when hurt: Do I care what they think? With emphasis on they – some people’s opinions mattered more. My list grew short and curated.

I also drew inspiration from Viktor Frankl, an Auschwitz survivor who found slivers of joy and hope amidst being treated as subhuman. “The last freedom we have is how we perceive the world around us,” he said. He chose not to let anything sway his inner peace.

Nor did his fellow prisoners who endured best. They protected their mindset against circumstance. When one despaired that his wife had been killed, Viktor consoled him with the idea that his purpose was to be the one who survived for her. Reframing pain as purpose.

Words do matter. Systemic flaws exist. That said, we can reclaim power by deciding which words matter, and how much sway we let our environment have over us. The last freedom is perception itself.

Here is my attempt to improve the flow:

Gardening is my new Zen zone. By that I mean the full immersive experience of using my body to chop, lug, and pull. My mind goes on cruise control as I tackle each physical task. In the process, thoughts bubble up from my subconscious and cohere into ideas.

I was recently pondering how to create more inclusive workplaces. How can any leader help their teams thrive by fostering an environment where everyone feels they belong? I have thoughts on this topic (and data too), but my mind kept wandering, so that’s for another post.

I wondered: what if other people's opinions of you didn't matter? What if you could thrive anywhere, regardless of environment? That’s hard to do. We are social beings who put a lot of stock in what others say. Asking someone to ignore their surroundings is like telling them to breathe normally next to a smoky campfire without a mask.

But what if the smoke didn't reach your lungs? What if you were immune to the words floating around you?

Systemic issues need time to resolve. They may outlive us all. Pursuing a cause often means planting seeds for a garden we won’t see. It’s still the right thing to do. But at a human level, we need nourishment and safety today, not just ideals and hope tomorrow.

So amidst building that better future, what can one person do? Care less about what most people say. Anne Lamott keeps a 1 inch list of opinions she values. For everyone else, she gives no mental real estate.

I once cared too much about universal approval. I thought it made me empathetic. Really it fed an needy ego. I wore myself out trying to please all. Felt I shouldn’t be places if I didn’t fit in. Took criticisms personally. Everyone’s words seemed to matter.

Over time, I became harder to bruise by asking myself one question when hurt: Do I care what they think? With emphasis on they – some people’s opinions mattered more. My list grew short and curated.

I also drew inspiration from Viktor Frankl, an Auschwitz survivor who found slivers of joy and hope amidst being treated as subhuman. “The last freedom we have is how we perceive the world around us,” he said. He chose not to let anything sway his inner peace.

Nor did his fellow prisoners who endured best. They protected their mindset against circumstance. When one despaired that his wife had been killed, Viktor consoled him with the idea that his purpose was to be the one who survived for her. Reframing pain as purpose.

Words do matter. Systemic flaws exist. That said, we can reclaim power by deciding which words matter, and how much sway we let our environment have over us. The last freedom is perception itself.

Knowing when to surrender is an underrated skill.

As we grow older, we learn the value of letting go.

We learn out of necessity.

We come to terms with the passage of time.

We accept the randomness of life.

We learn to deal with things beyond our control that hit us hard.

We embrace life's impartial hand, not out of malice.

Life, luck, and time—all those factors that shape our existence—are much like nature.

Nature holds beauty.

Nature also evokes fear.

How can this be?

I believe it's because nature is indifferent.

It lacks emotions.

It doesn't rethink its actions just because something upsets us.

It simply exists, much like an iceberg that continues moving forward, regardless of obstacles.

Nature isn't malevolent.

However, it won't refrain from causing us harm either.

This mirrors much of life: events occur, whether we feel deserving or not.

Hence, surrendering becomes an essential skill, despite its infrequent discussion.

Zen Buddhism introduces three constant choices.

They're limited to three: acceptance, rejection, or change.

Most of us aren't fond of these options.

We'd rather grumble or resist.

Alternatively, we might opt to ignore things, hoping for a different outcome.

But these choices are superficial.

Acceptance sometimes means surrendering and facing something painful, allowing us to move forward.

Since my father passed away, I've spent significant time evading that truth.

I've kept myself occupied with work to avoid acknowledging his absence.

I understand that I will need to make a better choice eventually.

I haven't reached that point yet.

But I'm hopeful because dismissing something real feels having a gaping gunshot wound by waving off the medics because what wound.

Life is not fair because it doesn't care to be.

Occasionally, accepting the L is needed to move on.

Is it simple? Is life simple?

Not everyone should be a leader. Many individuals lack the necessary qualities to effectively guide and empower others at work. This is a well-known truth that people tend to avoid acknowledging.

Businesses often make the mistake of promoting the wrong people to managerial positions, disregarding the need for a specific type of person to be a successful leader. A true leader is someone who finds joy in helping others succeed, even if it means being disliked for making tough decisions.

Leadership also requires a touch of masochism, as it involves relying on others to carry out tasks and fix issues, while holding oneself accountable for the team's actions without micromanaging.

Becoming a leader means facing loneliness while building a collaborative team, handling scrutiny while embracing honesty, and granting autonomy to your team members. It's not an easy job, but it's immensely rewarding for those who are naturally driven to lead.

If you don't have the internal drive to be a leader, don't force yourself into the role. It's similar to parenthood – grueling yet rewarding. If leading isn't your passion, focus on being a problem-solver, creator, advocate, explorer, pioneer, or defender in your own field.

If you find yourself compelled to lead due to external pressure, push back and explore alternative paths to growth, like seeking a senior individual contributor role or taking on projects to expand your skillset.

Remember, leadership can't be taught; it requires genuine willingness from the heart. As Nietzsche said, “He who knows why can endure any how.”

When my wife and I first contemplated having a child, we were filled with grand ideas.

The thought of bringing another life into this world was an awe-inspiring concept. However, beyond this idealism, we were curious about what type of individual we wanted to nurture.

Most people aspire to be successful, but few genuinely comprehend what success means, let alone recognize it when they achieve it. To us, having a successful child wasn't the ultimate goal. We sought something more profound.

The prospect of raising a good person resonated with us, but that prompted another question: What constitutes “good”?

Down the rabbit hole we plunged, without a clear definition. Then, suddenly, it dawned on us. It was something so simple yet powerful, pure yet revolutionary.

We decided that we wanted our child to be curious, kind, and courageous.

Being curious is important because the world is filled with wonders. Living with a sense of curiosity and wonder is like embracing the joy of discovery every day. It also fosters humility when interacting with others. Curious individuals don't consider themselves superior, viewing others as mere pawns. Instead, they are eager to learn, to understand, and are open to being proven wrong.

Kindness, however, is rare in today's world. A kind individual empathizes rather than dominates, serves rather than being served. Kindness counteracts most deadly sins. It's a quality I appreciate in my wife, my parents, and the best people I've encountered. Those I've admired for their strength were invariably kind. Their power wasn't wielded but offered as a gift.

Finally, courage—the spark that propels the world forward. It is the most American trait I know, and one that I've loved in this country since my arrival. The courage to explore, seek, and test oneself. A courageous heart yearns for adventure. If courage was more prevalent, we might see more honesty, self-awareness, and clarity.

The beauty of this triad of virtues—curiosity, kindness, and courage—was how harmoniously they complemented each other. A kind soul without courage may become meek or passive. A courageous heart without curiosity might be driven by reckless ego. A curious mind without kindness could turn cold and manipulative.

So, once our son was born, we adhered to this motto as we taught him how to live, love, and be. One day, as I was dropping him off at daycare, I told him, “Have a curious, kind, and courageous day.” His puzzled look made me smile, as if I'd planted a profound idea into his young mind.

After repeating this for several days, he asked, “Why do you say that?” I explained that it's the kind of day we wished for him. His expression was less puzzled, marking an improvement.

Eventually, he expected my daily message. And then one day, after I wished him a “curious, kind, and courageous day,” he playfully added, “And cucumber!”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, using his own question. He responded with the straightforward logic children possess and adults often lose, “Because it makes sense.”

It did make sense. This silly addition was pure childlike joy. That which eventually leaves most adults’ lives as we are mired in meetings, dinner plans, errands, and deadlines.

I embraced it and have been adding it ever since.

Why do I share this with you? It’s not only an adorable story about my son that always makes me smile, but it was also the beginning of something for me.

I learned to embody this motto in my own life. Surprisingly, it transformed my professional life as well.

As a people manager and business leader for many years, I tried to follow various leadership philosophies. However, none of them felt genuinely me until I discovered this model centered on curiosity, kindness, courage, and child-like joy. It helped me focus on the right things, align my decision-making with my values, and interact with my team authentically.

Authenticity is crucial in life and essential at work. If you can't be true to yourself at work, you risk frequent bouts of burnout. However, a word of caution—seek about 90% authenticity. You remember that scene in Interstellar where the robot reports only 90% honesty? Same thinking. No one appreciates an unfiltered version of anyone; that's too much to handle for just a paycheck.

That's what this blog is about. I'll explore various topics, continually returning to the motto I tell my son every morning. I hope it will help you live and lead more authentically and purposefully.

#ChiefCucumber