WHAT YOU CAN LEARN FROM A SNOWBALL: The Concept of Incremental Exponentialism

If you know me, then I rabbit on A LOT about incremental exponentialism, which is really my fancy way of describing compounding, or snowballing.

I like snow.

I didn't grow up with an abundance of it. It was a special thing to see it, touch it, play in it, ski down it, and get hit by it.

The proverbial snowball, made up of millions of unique snowflakes, compressed, getting larger as it rolls down the hills, or as a child rolls one around to make a snowman...picking up a thin layer which starts to add exponentially to the surface area and indeed the volume and mass of the snowball. Put simply....what starts small quickly grows unexpectedly.

So what can you learn from a snowball? A lot.

NARRATIVE: A story shaped life

Firstly, I hope this is not an egregious plagiaristic effort vis a vis Bob Osborne's insightful message at WKC. Bob, if you ever read this....maybe we should write this book together.

I love stories. That said, it is the cinematic story that most captures my imagination, soul and spirit. I've written about 7-8 full length screenplays (1 shot), the last one about 3 years ago. As a crash course reference, typically there are 90 pages to a script, each page representing 1 minute of screentime.

It is amazing how true this holds, whether it is a script for Transformers or for a Woody Allen flick, the rule of thumb holds true. I analogize this with a person of action, outdoorsy adventure type, or a contemplative philosopher, musing and dialoguing.

So we too have a narrative. The story of our lives. Like a classic story, we have a beginning, middle & end. At least in our 90 (let's hope) years upon this earth. Some of us may be a short story, and some of us will be 3 hour epics (OK 180 years is a long time!)

As plot development goes, Act 1: the beginning is in the first 10-20 minutes. It sets up the protagonist (the main character); their character, their motivations. So it is with us: from conception to adulthood; formative, foundational.

Act 2: the middle. Full of conflict, developments, ups and downs. Frequently with a building excitement. Multiple story arcs; threaded in; subtexts: underlying tensions and driving forces. The the climax, and also perhaps a big gloom......right before the happy, or unhappy ending. It occupies 50-60 minutes. By time the majority of the story..not necessarily by intensity. Typically the part of a movie, if not well written, might get lost, might forget what type of movie it is, might get boring and repetitive.

Act 3: the end. Typically with much resolution, tying up loose ends, looking towards the future. Sometimes ending in joy, or despair. Mostly, the effects of Act 1 and 2 coming to a satisfying or often unsatisfying culmination. Some with great "payoffs", some leaving you hanging....with only questions.

So people often say that there is a "book in everyone of us", I say that we intentionally and accidentally create a story of our own, with our life, with its own narrative, its quirks and incidents, its profound and mundane episodes.

So what is your narrative: action-adventure? drama? comedy? tragedy? thriller? What is your story shaped life?

Upgrade: Introduction

On a related diversion from Belonging and Significance, I am increasingly aware of our search for the Upgrade. They feed on our need for belonging and significance.

That word upgrade may conjure up legroom, champagne, a flight attendant who isn't an old grumpy witch, there are smiles, whether eyes are opened or closed, beds that lay flat rather than being squeezed between two obese travelers.

It's a classic extension of the class system. Virgin actually calls it Upper Class....straight to the point...the lounge, the manicure, the massage, the limousine to and from...oh it's a bit of rock star heaven wrapped up in an 18 hour journey. You belong to Upper Class, you are significant in Upper Class.

A.B.C. Bronze/Silver/Gold/Platinum/Black/Titanium.....1st, 2nd, 3rd.

Incremental Revolutions are what they seem. To get past that threshold has the promise of an almost alternate reality. Some subtle changes, leading to the promise of so, so, so much more.

Upgrade. Our house, our car, our spouse, our bodies, our life.

The corner office. The house on the lake. The hotel suite.

We dare not believe in total transformation. But an upgrade. We can believe in that.

GRIEF

I spent 80+ days with my in-laws since March. I stay with them, when I go near them for business, once or twice a month. It's a notably large amount of time to spend with one's in-laws, and for some it might not be a desired activity, but for me it has been an unusual blessing.  Made all the more poignant by the fact that my father-in-law passed away on October 7, 2009.

A man, many know by his accomplishments, but I know by his character and humanity. A man who cheated death numerous times, most recently making a miraculous recovery from March onwards (his heart stopped for 2 minutes in heart surgery). A man who died suddenly in his son's arms, 4 days after his 50th anniversary.

I grieve that he is no longer there, when I visit. I will sit, as I did this past week, and have dinner with my mother-in-law, an empty chair painfully obvious, the conversation less lively, the talk mainly of memories.

I grieve, for his daughter, my wife, misses him so. His grandchildren, who speak daily of loss, even my little 4 year old girl. Her "I love you daddy" is followed often by "grandpa died...."

I grieve that heaven's gain, seems a disproportionate loss on earth.

I grieve, because I catch myself in moments of joy, laughter and brevity.....and his loss springs back...top of mind....my smile fades...I grow suddenly quiet....

I grieve, because inexplicable triggers manifest....I find myself feeling like I've cried for hours...when I haven't shed a tear at all...when the gap left by a person seems impossibly large.

I grieve not to cope, but as the only option left to me. For denial, or "getting over it" seems foolish and trite. So I face the freight train, horns blaring....I can survive this collision with deep emotion again...like a crashing wave.

I grieve.

50 Years of Marriage

This past weekend, my in-laws celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.  I was entasked with producing a video for it. As I pored through hundreds of photos, I journeyed through rich and varied lives.  Here it is. It's 6 minutes long. I hope it does something for you.

The Serenity Prayer

If you go to AA or other 12 step programs. You'll know this one.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Just for today.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever and ever in the next.


The first paragraph is usually the part that most people know. Authorship is unknown. But just like open source it is open to interpretation, revision and improvement.

I hope you read it, and the purpose of the prayer gives you a glimpse of the peace that you are seeking.

Here's a variation I kinda like too.

God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change

courage to change the one I can change,

and wisdom to know it’s me.

Heaven is the Face

I don't talk about matters of faith very often on this blog. I certainly don't talk about heaven very much. For those of you who know of him, Steven Curtis Chapman is a well regarded Christian music artist.

He has adopted several children from China. Last year, one of his adopted daughters was run over by his own son. It is a gut-wrenching tragedy, and one wonders how someone can cope with the loss first, and the circumstances of the loss.

I encourage you to view this video of a song Steven wrote; inspired by his little girl in heaven. Listen, read the words and make sure you get to the end.

Only God can give the strength to endure, to turn tragedy into a song of hope.

Promises

They're easy to make.

"We'll hang out son, go rafting maybe. This afternoon. I promise."

I didn't do it. My son's heart sank. My son trusts me. But each time I break a promise, and disappoint him, I confirm to him, that no one, not even his dad, keeps his promises.

He'll expect it less. He'll do it less.

Friendships. Marriage. Parenthood. There's a lot of implicit and explicit promises made in these relationships.

So, the next time I'm tempted to make a loose promise. I'm not going to think twice. I'm just not going to do it. Because they are important to keep.

And that's a promise.

THE 3RD EAR

My wife has a skill. I call it her 3rd Ear. She has the uncanny ability to track 2-3 conversations in our immediate vicinity, particularly in a restaurant setting. So-and-so were fighting about this, and the table behind us were talking about that.....meanwhile not skipping a beat with our own conversation. It happened last night. It was our 15th anniversary.

Now this is an endearing quality of hers, so I personally don't have an issue with it. Eavesdropper? Yes. Nosy parker? Yes. She is truly an expert observer of human interactions, and takes people watching to a whole new level.

My father also had this skill. My mother told me about her first date with him, where he seemingly was totally engrossed in conversation, yet knew exactly what people were talking about around him, and gave a report to my mother at the end of their date!!!

Should my wife have pursued a career with the CIA? Oh yes. Not only does she have the 3rd ear, she can also assess the relationship status of people at an adjacent table within 10 seconds, by clothing, body language and other social cues that are lost on me. And it doesn't hurt that strangers are very comfortable telling her their most secret personal details within 10 minutes of meeting her.

I never had a chance.

Simplicity

Keep it Simple Stupid. K-I-S-S.

I was sitting at Denny's today, watching my little girl eat her Smiley Alien Pancake (3 pancakes, bacon and whipped cream). While the meal would give a nutritionist a heart attack, the simple pleasure of chatting with my 4 year old as she engaged with her meal (yes she played with her food) reminded me that life is made of choices and moments, and the more you can share those choices and moments, the richer life is.

We weren't meant to live this life alone. Get together with those you love, and do something simple.

THE ANYWAY POEM

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered; Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

Things that take time, are good for you, and sort of free

I've got some perpetual objectives in my family: spend more time together, engage in healthy activities, teach them to care about other people outside of themselves. In context of the global recession somewhat, I have the following perspectives:

1. Teach our children to spend less time in front of a screen, whether it's a TV or a computer.
2. Teach them to be something more than consumers.
3. Teach them to spend more time in healthier activities.

"Monkey see monkey do". So it starts with us. Don't switch on the TV or computer until your kids are bed.

So my premise is: What are the things that will substitute the time spent in front of a TV and computer, that is good for you, and doesn't cost a lot of money, and you can do as a family.

1. Spend at least one night a week playing games. Not video games. Games. Monopoly. Card games.
2. Spend at least one hour per week, taking a family walk.
3. Go to the park, bring sandwiches, fruit and drinks. It's called a picnic. Once a month.
4. Find somewhere you can volunteer as a family once a month.

Don't just go to a movie. Don't just go to the mall. Don't just sit and watch TV. Break the habit. I guarantee you. If you do points 1-4 for 3 months, you will have a radically different family life, and you'll save money too! And have lost some weight to boot.

Can't lose.

Greed/Faith may be the opposite of fear but they are not the answer

In the past I have written about market psychology (Greed vs. Fear) and spiritual psychology (Faith vs. Fear). It speaks to our mindset, our disposition, our perspective. But neither Greed nor Faith are the antidote of fear. Faith almost but not quite.

If fear is a state, a condition of insecurity and paranoia, then only an action can overcome it; to change that state. If greed, an overwhelming state of selfishness, then again, it takes an action to alter it.

This action, is LOVE.

Love overcomes fear and love changes greed.

So if you find yourself in either the states of fear this week, defeat it with love.

The Story of Stuff

Once in a while, your fragmented hunches, fears, speculations are packaged by another person in such a succinct, and clear way, that it galvanizes it all. I'm more troubled by what I might need to do, now that I am no longer "ignorant."

http://www.storyofstuff.com

20 minutes of your time. Stark reality of sustainability or the lack thereof. Even if you believe only 20% of it, think of the billions in China and India who want to live the "dream".

Pass it on, provoke thought. Provoke action

SPRING

For us in the Northern Hemisphere, Easter marks Spring.

For us in the North of the Northern Hemisphere, we're talking about the snow maybe, just maybe, melting for the very last time.

The season conjures up colors: greens, bright florals, and signifies: life, rebirth, growth, hope and promise.

So I sincerely wish you all a thaw to all that is frozen, and the blossoming of dormant things, and life to all that might be dead; resurrected.

Happy Easter.

Significance

Do you have burning desire to MAKE IT, or BE FAMOUS? If you asked a kid, I'm sure "I wanna be famous" is the norm not the exception. If you asked a twenty year-old it would probably be affirmative for both.

"Fake it till you make it" is probably more of a life ethos for many, rather than a novelty T shirt line.

SIGNIFICANCE. To matter. To be known. To make a difference. To leave a legacy. A core need of humanity.

Paths to significance are as individual and varied as there are people on this earth. In the book Outliers, Malcom Gladwell (of Tipping Point, Blink fame: two significant books) delves deeply into the stories and insights into the development of significant and exceptional people like Bill Gates. Much of it is accidental, coincidental, circumstantial. But deep inside these individuals was a desire to be significant.

Sure, aptitude, training and context are all contributing factors. Napoleon, Genghis Khan and Hitler all had urges to be significant. But significance was merely the by-product of Jesus, Mother Teresa, and many other influential people to have existed.

Some inspired fear, others inspired faith. Some inspired war, others peace. Some for a time, some for eternity.

So consider what that word or concept means to you today:SIGNIFICANCE.

SOMETHING TO PROVE?

I was a pretty scrawny kid. On outward appearance I could not possibly be a very strong athlete, except for the fact that before adolescence kicked in fully, I was 75% legs. yup, since I was 12, I have been a 31 inch inseam, my legs grew first, and I had the torso of a 3 year old.

The advantages to this freakish body, was that I was super light. On my first cross country run, I came 5th or something like that in my class. My lungs were burning, but as I hunched over, I realised that I could be pretty good at this.

So with no one's encouragement, or even sense of competition, and with no one really knowing, I would awake at first light, leave the front door unlocked, and run for 30 minutes, and sneak back in before breakfast, each day, for months.

In the ensuing years I became a very proficient cross country and middle distance runner. Represented the school and went to track meets.

Then I met this girl on the track team. She was a very fast 200m runner. She was dating this guy who was a fast 50m butterfly swimmer....

Now, suffice it to say that distance running and sprint swimming require some very different skills.

In Phys-Ed, though I was a pretty good swimmer, trying to do 50m of butterfly, all flailing arms, and gulping water, was a bit of an embarrassment.

Now, there wasn't a guarantee that whoever was the fastest under 15 50m butterfly swimmer was going to win the heart of this 200m sprinter, but hey, I was young and dumb and it seemed to make sense.

So.....at first light, I snuck out, and swam. The 50 m butterfly. Perfected my dolphin kick. Got the sweeping arms going. Breathed every other stroke. Timed the final stretch to the wall.

It was a cold November day. The day of the swim meet. The sprinter was there. The 50m butterfly guy, who I will call the Albatross was there. He was about a foot taller than me and had crazy long arms. We both made it into through the heats, the quarters, the semis. He was in lane 4, and I in lane 8 of the finals. I won. I dated the girl. I became part of the swim team for the next few years. My specialty: the 50m butterfly.

Two of my main high school athletic accomplishments, running and swimming.

One spurred on by some strange dysfunctional growth proportion thing, and some surprisingly singular drive to get better at something you're naturally OK at.

The other, by the seemingly impossible task of being the best at something you were the worst at, motivated by the desire to date a 200m sprinter.

Running. I had nothing to prove. Except to myself. I wasn't really even fussed about the competitive element, as I am not naturally a competitive person.

Swimming. I had everything to prove. To win the girl. To show her that there was something spectacularly romantic about a guy who would train daily, cold and alone, to win her heart through besting her boyfriend in a swimming race. So misguided, but ultimately successful.

No one knew that there were such different motivating factors to what seemed to others, as my natural aptitude in becoming really good at swimming and running. Only I did. And maybe my bemused PE teacher, who lost a distance runner and gained a sprint swimmer.

This is perhaps the most long winded prelude to the point of my blog today. What drives you? Motivates you? If you seek success, why do you seek it? Do you have something to prove? Do you do it for your own sense of accomplishment, or are you driven by the approval or recognition by others?

I'm constantly surprised by stories of people who are driven by things like: being called a failure by their father, decide to "show him", and become wildly successful, or accomplish incredible feats.

Or hypercompetitive people, who just want to be stronger, faster, better. Bigger house, nicer car, hotter spouse. A life in context, rather than a life in and of itself.

Do you have something to prove? Has a past hurt fueled your pursuits? Are you disproving the doubts of others in achieving greatness in something?

Or are you at peace with who you are?

FRIENDS BY CHOICE, NOT BY CHANCE

School. Neighbourhood. Workplace. Sports. You meet people. You become friends.

Tennis buddies, poker buddies. Friends you do things with.

People you eat together with, live together with.

Perhaps first by chance, but ultimately by choice.

When life changes, geographic distance come into play. Those friendships are tested. Then you know who are your friends by choice, and who you choose to be friend of.

Belonging

I don't really remember when I got switched on to this, but I'm convinced that belonging and significance is, outside from the great shortage of love in the world, what global society lacks the most, and what we hunger for, in our core.

So let's talk about belonging. My wife was telling about someone she knows, who was adopted, and who was then "abandoned" later in life, when a birth child came a long. I also know someone, whose parents adopted and fostered dozens of children, some from the far corners of the world. The heartbreaking story is that some of these children, some that were saved from certain death, are now turning their backs on the people who have loved them and nurtured them.

These are difficult stories to hear, absorb and process.

I am eternally grateful that I belong to my birth family, and now my own family. I am someone who was, since childhood, was looking for a lifetime companion, and was fortunate enough to find one. I belong to her, and she to me. My children belong to me, and me to them. Its such a symbiotic thing. Not co-dependence. Just being. Together. Individuals. But together.

We long to belong.

PRAYER FOR CHILDREN

I've been contemplating the luxuries of the developed world, and the insane relative privilege that my children are accustomed to. I am planning for the opportunity for their young lives to intersect with the reality of poverty, and the billion children who live in it.

I heard this in a Sunday message, and it was exactly the juxtaposition of privilege vs. poverty that is jarring, and impossible to ignore. Some amazing people who I know, one well, the others by handshake and brief interaction have launched a movement called Compassionart ( www.compassionart.tv ). Another story where those who know, have been compelled to act.

So I urge you to be shocked, disgusted, heartbroken. And may the realities of this poem turn you into an activist for the least of these.

PRAYER FOR CHILDREN by Ina Hughes
We pray for the children who sneak Popsicles before
supper, who erase holes in math workbooks, who can
never find their shoes. And we pray for those who stare
at photographers from behind barbed wire, who can't
bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers, who
never "counted potatoes," who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for children who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money. And we pray for those who never get dessert, who have no safe blanket to drag behind them, who watch their parents watch them die, who can't find any bread to steal, who don't have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser, whose monsters are real.

We pray for children who spend all their allowance before Tuesday, who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food, who like ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed, who never rinse out the tub, who get visits from the tooth fairy, who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool, who squirm in church and scream in the phone, whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those whose nightmares come in the daytime, who will eat anything, who have never seen a dentist, who aren't spoiled by anybody, who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep, who live and move, but have no being. We pray for children who want to be carried and for those who must, who we never give up on and for those who don't get a second chance. For those we smother and...for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.