Michele Woodward

Powerful Coaching. Powerful Results.

Clarity

Who’s Ready For Some Homework?

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I have the firm belief that it’s impossible to make a really great plan for the future unless you take time to reflect on the past.

That’s the thinking behind the Personal Planning Tool I’ve been offering you since 2009. Every year I update it for the coming year and this time when I wrote out the new date, I said something eloquent and thoughtful.

I said, “Whoa.”

As in, whoa, what a great opportunity to reflect on everything that’s happened in 2019 as we plan for 2020, but why not look waaaay back? Why not look at where we all were in 2010?

So I sat down, and I am known to do, and created a tool to do that reflection. What were the most powerful questions? What got to the heart of the matter?

I made a copy of my handwritten draft and walked myself through the emerging process. Tweaked. Refined.

Then I sent my handwritten, scrawled out notes to a dozen helpful souls who offered to try it and provide helpful and critical feedback.

I waited. But before long my email started to ping with messages like this:

“I was surprised by the theme of taking care of my physical body. I’m seeing my family age and it suddenly feels URGENT to care for my vessel in ways it never did before. This came through so loud and clear as I filled this out.”

“I thought the whole review was thought provoking and valuable. The big surprise to me was the question: If you could send a message from today to your 2030 self, what would you say? As I read it, I teared up. Big time.  At first I thought the question didn’t make sense – easier to give advice/share wisdom with 20/20 hindsight –  but then why did it bring tears to my eyes?! I realized the reason was that my thoughts about the future were pessimistic (which is not my usual personality default) and I didn’t know what to tell my future self beyond “Savor the butterflies now.” ;/ Not a useful way to move forward action-wise. And that I could do better for myself and values than that. Where I am currently is to say to my 2030 year self that the future is still wide open (props to Tom Petty) and to stay sturdy; my work here is not done.”

“I think the biggest thing I learned from this exercise is that you have no idea what the future could bring. Ten years ago, I was single, had not met my husband and could not have dreamt of what my future life could hold. I also noticed today – 10 yrs. later – that I omit my career and myself in much of this plan. I am in a supporting role and put my needs after those of others. However, this process reinforces a few things that I need to make a priority – working out, reconnecting with friends. I also realized how much I am driven [now] by personal vs. professional goals. It also makes me fear a bit for the next 10 years since things have been so good, similar to that of a recession after good economic times.”

“I cried on page 4.  These questions were POWERFUL.  When you compare 10 years the things that need to be fixed are in such plain sight. I focused on what was still not going well but, I also need to celebrate that I have doubled my income in 10 years.”

Deep and abiding thanks to the brave and kind folks who took the time to test drive the 10-Year Tool. Which is now up and ready for you!

Go to www.michelewoodward.com/resources to access both the new 10-Year Tool and its big sister, the 2020 Personal Planning Tool. These two worksheets are designed to complement one another – and also designed to be the sort of thing you take your time with. To think. To reflect. To grow your understanding.

This ain’t no Cosmo quiz, friends.

And, as always, the resources on my page are available to you at no charge.

After you use the 10-Year Tool or the 2020 Personal Planning Tool, drop me a note and let me know what you think. I can’t wait to hear about the things you learn!

Say This, Not That

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You may know that one of my core values is learning.

There’s nothing I love more than digging in, coming to understanding and integrating that knowledge into my life.

I know, it makes me so fun to be around at parties.

One of the most important learnings of the last ten years has been around how to speak.

Yes, it’s entirely possible that I emerged from the womb reciting Elizabeth Barrett Browning – but that’s talking and anyone can do that.

What I’m talking about is speaking in a way that opens up conversation and relationships.

The simple rule I’ve learned is: Ask so that others can answer fully, and truthfully.

Mind-blowing, huh?

Here’s the example:

“Are you having a good day?”

vs.

“How’s your day?”

In the first instance, the way you’ve constructed the question suggests that the listener needs to experience a “good day” to be in your good graces. You are, in fact, telling them what to feel.

Maybe your intention is to keep things light, superficial. Or you think you’re being optimistic and sunny, all Law of Attraction-y. Regardless, the result is the person responds with, “Yeah…sure”, which might be untrue, and your relationship is now touched by that small little lie.

But when you simply ask, “How’s your day?”, you allow a response that’s real. The person can say what’s on their mind, something like: “It’s a tough day – I had to put my dog down.” How honest. How revealing. How real.

Then you can be with that person, in that moment, in their reality and sorrow.

You have an opportunity to be a supportive friend, family member, colleague. You can know them more fully by understanding their truth. And they can know you, too, by experiencing your kindness.

Yes, being empathetic might take something from you. And you might feel like you’re not up to the task.

I imagine you are, though. Because I know you’re a kind, thoughtful, compassionate person who wants close connections with others.

You can do it. You can be open to hearing the truth, and dealing with whatever that truth brings along with it.

So, say this: “How are you feeling?” rather than “Feeling good?”

Say, “Where are you on the Framastam contract?” rather than “Are you done with the Framastam contract yet?”

Say, “What are your plans tonight?” rather than “You’re not going to that block party on Garfield St., are you?”

Say, “What do you think of the succotash?” rather than “Don’t you love this succotash?”

You can open doors with the questions you ask, or you can close them. It’s a powerfully simple learning that leads to a fuller, richer experience for all involved.

 

 

The Thing About Culture

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People throw the word “culture” around like there’s a shared concept of what in the world they’re talking about.

“Culture”, for some, means for others to “do what you’re told.”

For snarky cynics, it means “what the website says and what no one actually does.”

For hopelessly optimistic folks, it means “that we’re all friends and we get along.”

Close, but no cigar, if you ask me.

Culture is, as I recently read, simply “The way we do things around here.”

How powerfully elegant is that?

The way we do things creates the culture in which we live and work.

So, if we want to change culture – we just change the way we do things.

Sounds easy, huh? But you know I like a process, so here goes:

First, we need to understand how it is we do things. This requires a little step back, and the detachment to catalogue our “how” without judgment.

How do we want people to spend their days? In back-to-back meetings? In the field? At their desks? On their feet?

What’s our paperwork flow like? What’s our approval process like?

How we spend our time reveals our true focus – so how does your organization (including your family) spend its time?

That’ll show you something really important.

Once we know how we do things, we need to ask the critical question: Who benefits from our culture?

If the only people benefitting are senior management, you’ve got a problem. Like, if senior leaders get their own suites at the Ritz Carlton while middle managers and others on the same trip have to double up at the Days Inn – what are you saying to your people? What are you creating?

If the only person benefitting is Carol in accounting whose fear of making a mistake means a ton of paperwork and molasses-like response time, you’ve got a problem. When you center your entire organization on the quirks and foibles of one personality – what are you telegraphing about what you value? About what’s important?

If the entire organization is centered around the CEO’s reluctance to have difficult conversations, you’ve got a problem. We’re talking about power grabs and petty tyrants and office politics and dysfunction kinds of problems.

And no one needs that nonsense.

If the only people benefitting are white men with a college degree, you have a very big problem. And I would argue that it’s time to move your organization beyond 1989 and firmly into 2019.

Just sayin’.

You have to be brave when you examine who benefits, because that person might be you. It’s entirely possible that the system is set up to mirror your strengths, values and priorities. Entirely possible.

But if you’re the only person benefitting, you owe it to your organization’s success to open it up. To allow more people the opportunity to grow and learn and thrive.

Creating a system which gives more people a chance to bring their knowledge and expertise to the table means building a culture that works.

Because any group makes better decisions with diverse voices and perspectives. You’ll also keep people on the team longer.

You’ll have more success.

The thing about culture is that it’s often created in a fractured set of vacuums – HR does things one way and Finance does something their way and Sales is a creature unto itself. All of this adds up to “the way we do things around here”.

And if the way we do things around here isn’t working, we have a responsibility to make it work. For everyone.

 

Who’d Like A Little Homework?

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It’s that time of year. That time when we draw one year to a close and prepare for a new one.

I don’t know about you but sometimes I get to December 10th and ask myself whether I accomplished anything at all in the entire year. I’m so focused on the here and now that I’ve forgotten what, oh, February of last year was really like. (I think it was cold. And I think I got my knee replaced…?) But real accomplishments? They are all distant, fuzzy memories at best.

Have you ever noticed that we tend to discount the things that come easiest to us? As if some measure of struggle is required to make anything we’ve done “worth it”.

Last week I did a little exercise with myself and I invite you to join me in this wee bit of homework –  just 10 steps – because once I completed this process myself, I felt a lot more accomplished. And also rather awesome, in a total Ron Burgundy kinda way.

Step 1: Grab yourself some paper and a pencil. Or pen. Or colorful marker. Really, don’t get hung up on what you’re writing with. It’s a distraction. What was I saying? Oh, yeah…

Step 2: Optional beverage of your choice.

Step 3: Flip your calendar to January 1, 2018.

NOTE: “Flip” may be a euphemism for clicking on a back arrow until you get to January 2018. Access your calendar however you keep a calendar. And if you don’t keep a calendar, then you have no homework. Have a lovely day!

Step 4: Look at that first week of January, 2018. Anything interesting or unusual? Stuff you forgot? Stuff you forgot you accomplished? Write it down on your paper.

Step 5: Go through every week of the year and make notes.

Step 6: Look at your paper. You got more done than you thought you did, right? Go ahead, say it: “Wow! Look at me!”

Step 7: Replenish your beverage.

Step 8: Look again at your paper. Look at all those things you got done. Now, ask yourself a question:

“What do those accomplishments say about my goals for 2018?”

(I never said this homework was going to be an easy A, y’all.)

Step 9: If you set goals before 2018 started, compare your actual results to the goals you set out to achieve. How did you do? If you had no goals for 2018, it’s likely that some sneaked up on their own when you take a look at your accomplishments. Capture those, and be amazed at the ability of your subconscious to make things happen on your behalf.

Step 10: Now, knowing what you know about 2018, what do you want to do more of in 2019? What do you want to never do again? What do you want more than anything? What’s your dream? What would feel great to accomplish in the coming months? Write that down. Then make a promise to yourself to do one thing each week in 2019 to make that thing happen.

Easy.

Bonus Question: If you fell short or didn’t accomplish what you wanted to accomplish in 2018, what’s one small action you can do today to at least get momentum going in your favor? Even an  eensy-weensy step in the right direction still gets you headed in the right direction. And if you actually accomplished what you set out to do in 2018 (virtual pat on the back to you!), how could you amplify that thing for the coming year? Or build on it? Or solidify it?

Or maybe choose something wholly new? Think about the possibilities!

You have this one life, this one moment in time. Don’t wait. Don’t put off your hopes and dreams and fondest desires.

You have the power to make things happen. You’ve done it, and you’re going to do it.

And it’s going to be so gratifying when you get to December 10, 2019, do this exercise again, and say to yourself, “Wow! Look at me!” because you moved – maybe slowly, sure, but you moved – closer and closer to the thing you’ve always wanted to do.

Maybe You’re An Anxious Striver

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Years ago I learned something from my friend Jen Louden. It’s her idea of “Conditions of Enoughness”. Basically, it’s deciding before you set out to do anything what “enough” will feel like, so you know when you’re done.

I thought of this brilliant concept recently when hearing people talk about their drive for constant improvement. It occurred to me that constant improvement could actually be a bad thing.

Like, how you remove minute parts of a knife everytime you sharpen it. And, if you persist in sharpening the edge, at some point the knife loses its structural integrity and becomes a wisp of a thing rather than the sharp thing it once was.

I was reflecting on people who are what I call “anxious strivers”. The kinds of folks who are driven to go-go-go and do-do-do. Who only eat foods which have a point – their diet exists merely to provide protein, minerals, and “good fats”. They only read books which will improve their lives. Every spare minute is devoted to Doing Something In Service To Something Else.

Joy has very little role in their lives.

I have to ask, though: When you live in pursuit of constant improvement, when do you know how to stop? When do you know what enough is like? Because of the relentless “constant” in “constant improvement”, are you putting yourself on a hamster wheel that never stops and calling it exemplary performance?

Perhaps then, rather than constant improvement, we need to think about simply having clear goals and working to meet them. In that context, the questions become more like: How did I do yesterday? Do I need to do something differently than yesterday to reach my goal? Is it enough to keep doing what I’m doing and stay on this path I’ve set? Does this feel like enough yet?

That’s not to say stop learning. To stop incorporating your learning into your actions. I would never say that, because I’m a learner through and through.

I am suggesting that anxious striving, never knowing what enoughness looks like, never doing something just for the fun of it, sharpening your edge until you have nothing left… this is the recipe for burnout and unhappiness and, oddly enough, ultimately leads to a lack of real, meaningful progress.

That Time I Learned Something New About Myself

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When I was just getting started in my career, a slightly old friend passed along some advice.

“If anyone important asks you to lunch,” she said, “make sure you order steak tartare and Scotch neat, just to show them how tough you are.”

My nose wrinkled at the thought of raw meat mixed with raw egg yolk and firewater for lunch. It’s highly probable that I responded with, “I dunno. How about a Cobb salad and a Diet Coke?”

Truth is, I’ve never been one to choose something just to make a point. It’s not how I’m wired.

Plus, even at a young age, I had decided that Scotch was not the distilled spirit for me.

I mean, Scotch. Just the sound of it conjures up people with expense account lunches and questionable moral underpinnings. Like club members at a club I wouldn’t want to join. Like your lawyer’s lawyer’s drink of choice.

I wrote off Scotch years ago with the throwaway line, “I am not grown-up enough for Scotch.” Oh, I had tried it, like everyone did. And it smoked, and burned, and made my eyes water, and was highly unpleasant. So deciding I wasn’t a Scotch drinker was easy – I merrily went along my way without the slightest bit of angst that I was missing something by exempting whisky.

Until, that is, I went to Scotland this summer and my mind changed.

Because there in the windswept Orkney Islands, I was finally taught how to drink whisky properly.

Hadn’t realized there was a right and a wrong way to drink liquor until a wise, gruff Viking of a man opened my mind and showed me a thing or two. Turns out I had been doing it wrong.

He taught me that fine single malt whisky needs to be treated the way you’d treat a fine red wine. You drink it warm. In a small, special glass. Maybe add a drop of water to open up the flavors.

I mean, who knew Scotch even had flavors?

You sip it. You let the flavors settle in. You appreciate the long finish.

You enjoy, in a slow and reasoned way.

And guess what? The whisky I drank became a pleasure.

The thing I thought I was not grown-up enough for became something I was excited to learn more about.

All I needed was to be taught by someone with deep knowledge.

Funny, huh?

Now that I’m home, I find my mind turning to other areas of my life where this might also be true. What could I possibly come to enjoy if I were just taught by the right person?

It’s a great question, isn’t it? And perhaps one you can ask yourself today, too.

Because the world is a big place, just packed with interesting things to learn and do. And, asking to be taught a thing or two by someone with deep knowledge isn’t a sign of weakness – maybe it’s your passport to new adventures.

 

Plenty for Everyone

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Let’s say you feel frustrated and unhappy and can’t really put your finger on the “why” of it. Let’s also say that you’re someone who’s always putting the needs of other people ahead of your own, but you wouldn’t call it that. You’d call it “doing what I’m supposed to be doing” or “what I have to do right now”. Or “love”.

But there’s that niggling frustration, every single day. The sense that there’s something you’re not doing that you could be doing. Something that would be delightful and fun. Nourishing even. You just can’t see a way to do that AND do the thing you’re supposed to be doing.

So, let me ask you this:

If you went on a picnic with three of the dearest people in your life, and you opened the picnic basket and there were only three sandwiches, what would you do?

Would you say, “Oh, it’s okay. I love you so much and want you to be fed and happy, so eat the sandwiches. I’ll just sit here and pass you the mustard and a napkin and anything else you need.”

Would you squish down your own hunger so the hunger of others could be satisfied?

(Plenty of us do this every single day. We do it because we have heard that parenting, partnering, working, or serving needs to look a very specific way. We let that strict definition shape a box that’s increasingly smaller and harder to live in.)

(And sometimes we live inside the teeny tiny box because we’re not sure who we would be outside of it. We’re not sure if we’re exactly comfortable with how big we might become if we were to step outside.)

(And, then again, we worry that the person who’s not having a whole sandwich because of our needs might be mad or resentful. That’s awkward, uncomfortable and possibly fatal to the relationship.)

(And we are doing this in the first place because relationships with others are so important. More important, in fact, than our relationship with ourselves.)

(And we might have learned that love looks like doing stuff for other people all the time, regardless of the impact on ourselves.)

Back to the picnic scenario. You’re hungry and there aren’t enough sandwiches. Your gut says to let other people have what is there because it’s appropriate, it’s right, it’s safe. But you’re starving, aren’t you?

Might you consider a simple solution of dividing each sandwich into four equal parts so that everyone could have some? So everyone could be nourished? Including you?

It’s time to ease your frustration and own your right to your own well-being, my friends. And while asking for your portion might be scary, the odds are it will turn out beautifully. Because I know for a fact that the three people you love most in the world want nothing more than to share their sandwich with you.

Because they love you just as much as you love them.

 

[This piece appeared first on my Facebook page. Are we connected there?]

What You Fear Most

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If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this lifetime, it’s that anything I fear finds a way to poke its head up routinely.

If I fear bursting into tears in a difficult conversation, guess what happens? I fight tears all the way through until I explode.

If I fear bombing a speaking engagement, guess what happens? I fumble, mumble and fall flat.

If I fear saying something racially, culturally, gender-ly insensitive to a person I care about, guess what happens? I’m not really present and forget that Frances wants to be called “they” and that Ashley is now Chris and I feel like a dope.

Y’all, I am a mistake making machine. And that is because I am a human being. Human beings make mistakes.

And, here’s the trick, I’ve gotten to the place where I no longer fear making mistakes. I know, right?

Because I no longer fear making mistakes – because I know I am a mistake making machine – rather than beat myself up for stuff I do wrong, I take them as moments for learning. I can appreciate the clarity that comes from a mistake. I can find the illumination. The grace.

And, of course, when I make the inevitable mistake, I know the Aftermath Process: I acknowledge the mistake, I make all repairs necessary (including apologies or restitution) and I make a promise to try my very best to never, ever repeat that particular mistake again.

Many of us fear (that word again) being told we’re wrong. It’s like being called out as the mistake making machine that we humans are is the worst possible outcome.

But it’s not. It’s simply our opportunity to learn. To grow. To do something new.

I will admit to enjoying schadenfreude – delight in the misery of others – just as much as the next mistake making machine. And, yet, I have taught myself to not live in that gloating space.

Because I know that one of these minutes-hours-days-weeks it will be my turn.

And when it happens I want you all to help me acknowledge that I screwed up, help me find a way to repair and hold me to my promise to do better next time.

Because when we hold each other this way, we are building something together, rather than tearing one another apart.

And this is a second thing I have learned in this lifetime.