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March, 2003

R is for Reflection

You've probably noticed, by now, that much of what I have to say relates to self-examination and self-awareness. Insight into my own behavior comes from reflection.

Reflection — the truth in a mirror. A mirror neither judges nor flatters, but shows us the truth. How easy to do in the physical world, yet how hard to do in the metaphorical.

This month, I want to explore the challenges of looking at our own behavior and motives, and how that exploration leads to discoveries and success!

As with last month, my favorite question is "Why did I do that?"

Where is the Mirror?

A little reflection will enable any person to detect in himself that setness in trifles which is the result of the unwatched instinct of self-will and to establish over himself a jealous guardianship.

Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811–1896), U.S. novelist, anti-slavery campaigner. Little Foxes, ch. 4 (1865).

How many times have I looked in the mirror and said "I look good!" Was I really looking at myself, or was I looking at the image I wanted to see?

I don't know about you, but it's all too easy for me to stand up real straight and suck in my gut just a little bit as I stroll casually past the mirror. And sometimes, just sometimes, I sort of look something like I looked 25 years ago — which is what I still look like somewhere deep inside my head!

Of course, what's important to realize here is that the mirror doesn't lie. Between what I choose to present to the mirror, and the way I choose to interpret what I see, it's possible for me to quite happily delude myself. While I sometimes enjoy that delusion, it's not really helping me.

How does this apply? Let's say that I'm providing some corrective feedback to someone who works for me. I can begin by saying to myself "I'm doing this for this person's good and I'm doing it in the way that will most benefit them." Then I prepare what I want to say and call my subordinate into my office. Thirty minutes later, that person leaves crying. And I say to myself "I was appropriate and careful and sensitive, so they must just be overly sensitive and incapable of hearing constructive feedback."

Easy, right?

Now let's stop sucking in our gut and stop wanting to see who we want to see. And we'll do that by continuing what we started last month and ask ourselves some difficult questions.

Common sense is judgment without reflection, shared by an entire class, an entire nation, or the entire human race.

Giambattista Vico (1688–1744), Italian philosopher, historian. The New Science, 1744 edition, bk. 1, para. 142 (1744, trans. 1984).

Here's a good starter list for you:

  • Did I have any motivation relative to me rather than them for choosing what I said and/or the way I said it?
  • Did I really provide benefit, information, and growth opportunity to them?
  • How would I feel if I'd been on the other side? Not how I think I'd feel or how I would like to believe I'd feel, but listening to what I said and how I said it how would I feel?
  • Who was the manager I reported to that I liked least for the way they provided input/feedback? Did I do any of the things that they did?
  • Who was the manager/leader/mentor/guide that I liked most for the way they provided input/feedback? Am I learning from them and using their techniques?

Most of the times when something like the scenario above happens, we are caught in our blind spot. Well, one of our blind spots. We have created an internal image of who we think we are or who we want to be, and then that's who we see regardless of what the mirror actually reflects.

The bottom line is that to be the person you would really like to be, you must learn from the mirror — you must be tactlessly, painfully honest with yourself. Can you? It's not an easy thing to do, but as with many difficult and challenging things the rewards are huge!

Blind Spot #2

I've been working on this concept for a while. Okay - a long while. Let me tell you the origin story of my "Philosophy of the Blind Spot."

The world is as a looking-glass and gives back to every man the reflection of his own face. Frown at it and it in turn will look sourly upon you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a jolly, kind companion.

William Makepeace Thackeray

The year was 1980. I was a young hotshot programmer working for a large computer company. Although my background wasn't in computers or programming, I had found a natural fit — it turned out that I was just good at it.

It's worth knowing that I'd been told how smart I was since I was very young. Being young and foolish, "smarter" seems to have equated to "better" in my mind. It's embarrassing to admit that now, but it is true. I was pretty arrogant, insensitive, and impatient with people.

In 1980 a young fellow named Mike was hired right out of college. Mike was smart and friendly and we somehow managed to become good friends in spite of my shortcomings.

One day we had been in a meeting and I came out fuming. I was totally frustrated that the other members of the team did not grasp what I was telling them. They seemed incapable of understanding the concepts I was trying to explain. Needless to say, I believed that it was all their problem.

As we walked down the corridor, Mike said something to me that changed my thinking forever.

"Steven," Mike began, "you make intuitive leaps and reach conclusions that take you from 'A' to 'H' without ever stopping at 'B', 'C', 'D', 'E', 'F', or 'G'. And then, when you tell other people that 'A leads to H' they don't get it. And then you get frustrated."

At this point, I'm starting to feel the metaphorical 2x4 smacking me between the eyes. The best I could come up with at that moment was "uh-huh."

"Until you stop and figure out B through G, and then explain those steps to other people, you're going to be frustrated and you're not going to be effective at communicating."

Wow! That began my long journey to becoming a teacher, trainer, and communicator. That moment, there in the linoleum-floored corridors of a multi-billion dollar computer company, Mike changed my life.

And that's the basis of my "Philosophy of the Blind Spot."

Have you ever developed a skill that took time and effort? And found that when someone asked you how to do that activity, you were unable to explain and unable to understand why they didn't get it? It's like walking — could you explain to someone how to learn to walk? Or would you be forced to say "you just do it!"

Too often, we don't understand how we each got from A to H, and don't appreciate how valuable it would be to others if only we could articulate the steps.

I design and build web sites, for instance. It's not hard or challenging to me, because I've done it over and over again. But I have many friends and colleagues to whom it is a great mystery. When I remind myself of that, I find that I can be of more value to them by sharing my skills and knowledge. Because they don't know how to get to 'H'!

So maybe, the next time you find yourself saying to someone "that's easy!' or maybe "you can do it" you'll take a deep breath, look carefully into your blind spot, and say "let me show you how that's done."

Wishing you health, wealth, and happiness,


Wishing you health, wealth, and happiness,

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