Do You Know What You Value?

 

Photo by Chris Briggs on Unsplash

David Gerrold is a prolific sci-fi screenwriter and novelist. When he was about 23 years old he wrote the script for the original Star Trek episode called “The Trouble with Tribbles.” He’s also famous for having penned:

Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order.

It’s a bit on the nose but is a good reminder of the inevitable hardships of life. Seeds of opportunity can be found in every difficulty, and while we can’t escape life’s challenges, we can choose how to navigate them. The key isn’t avoiding obstacles but aligning our actions with what we value. This alignment gives meaning to our struggles.

Often, in the moments of our most difficult struggles, all we can do is survive. When we emerge from those trials, we can look back and find purpose in suffering, and that suffering can help us identify what we value because it’s easiest to see what we value when it’s taken from us.

Fortunately, we don’t have to endure major or even minor setbacks in life to take a step back and assess what it is that we value.

We’ve all either known people or been those people who have lost jobs and been unemployed for an extended period, lost loved ones in the prime of life, or had health scares of our own. Suffering has this tendency to peel back the layers of life and bring those things that matter most into sharp relief: relationships and real, human connection. Health and well-being are perhaps a close second.

I know a woman who has lived with numerous, severe health problems for more than 20 years. When her children were young, she was involved in a serious car accident that nearly took her life. She’s endured endless problems in her life than can be traced back to that accident. Yet she is one of the most pleasant people to be around. While the pain she deals with is often evident, most visits end up being about the person visiting and very little about her unless she’s imparting some wisdom about how to find joy in the face of such difficulty.

Karen Nimmo recently wrote about those who “achieve greatly” by “aligning their words [and] actions with the values an integrity.” She continues:

Those are the people we most look up to; they’re who we want to be.

It is frustrating how easy it is to lose sight of what matters most in the face of the noisy, trivial things in life. Why is it so hard to stay aligned with what we value?

From a broad perspective, there are four key reasons we get off track:

The lure of convenience and comfort.

There’s never been a time in human history when a higher percentage of people had access to the conveniences of life than today. We can have groceries delivered to our doorsteps, we can avoid physical labor using machines, and we distract ourselves with endless entertainment. The advancements in our lives are amazing and have improved our lives in so many ways, but they’ve also created an environment where even the smallest discomfort feels intolerable.

It’s pain avoidance at all costs, even when that pain leads to growth. We shy away (or run away) from things that stretch us and challenge us. We numb ourselves to the discomfort of difficult emotions (guilty as charged) rather than facing them. Those behaviors rob us of opportunities to build resilience and to grow.

The tendency to focus on immediate rewards over long-term fulfillment.

Related to the previous point, convenience and ease have led to an almost insatiable desire for instant gratification. Why save when we can buy on credit? Why cook a nice meal when ultra-processed food can be nuked in the microwave in 4 minutes? Of course, that mindset doesn’t apply just to material things — it’s also in how we approach goals, relationships, and personal growth.

Quick wins, fleeting pleasures, and surface-level success rarely bring long-term satisfaction. Real fulfillment requires our time, effort, and perhaps even some sacrifice.

Cultural or social pressures.

While it may not seem like it, convenience and instant gratification carry with them a kind of pressure to be a certain way that’s often made more difficult by cultural or social pressures that influence how we define success and even live our lives.

In Western culture, in particular, the current of the perfect job, a bigger house, and the latest stuff distort our priorities, leading us to chase goals that don’t align with what matters most.

This is by no means an original thought, but more and more we hear about the potential dangers of social media to amplify these effects, turning life into some kind of highlight reel where comparison becomes the thief of joy. What’s so interesting is that the filtered and polished in others’ lives create an unspoken demand to keep up — even if the race isn’t one you want to run.

In short, it’s a subtle and dangerous message: who you are is not enough.

Not knowing what we value.

With all that noise, it’s easy to lose sight of what matters. We spend so much time reacting to life — scrolling, checking off, chasing goals that look good on paper — that we don’t pause to ask: Is this what I actually care about?

We have to be fair to ourselves and acknowledge that sometimes we’re going to be unintentional about life. We’re just going to live the default without giving a lot of thought to what we value. The danger is, however, that we end up pursuing things because of what others expect, what feels easy or what distracts us from discomfort. Consistently walking that path leads to restlessness, emptiness, and a constant feeling that something’s missing from our lives.

Connecting with what we value is a life-long pursuit, but it doesn’t take a life time to figure out what we value. A few exercises can help us get in touch with the things we value.

One great exercise is to think about times in your life when you were the happiest or most fulfilled. If you answer the questions “What was I doing” and “Who was I with” chances are good you’ll find your values in those moments.

You can also think about the things you’re willing to fight for. Those are the non-negotiables in life that often hold your values at their core.

To paraphrase Karen Nimmo, “a life lived in alignment with your values is one of the few things that can’t be faked, filtered, or polished — and it’s the one thing that will always be enough.”

How to Grow by Doing What You’re Not Good At

 

Photo by Alexander Dummer on Unsplash

The June afternoon sun was beating down on my neck as I hunched forward, holding the seat of my middle son’s bicycle. I’d just removed the training wheels, and I was, for what felt like the thousandth time, steadying the bike as he pedaled slowly across the concrete.

We’d build just enough momentum for him to stay up on his own, but the moment I’d let go, the same scene would play out over and over again. He would start to wobble, then crash his bike on the grass.

Again and again.

I’m sure the time felt longer than it actually was. Exasperated, I finally told him that there was no hope I could teach him how to ride a bike because he wasn’t willing to follow my instructions.

It wasn’t my finest parenting moment. As a rule of thumb: parents don’t give up on kids.

Imagine my surprise when only three weeks later, my son ran out the door, slamming it as he always does, and hopped on his bike, pedaling off to his friend’s house.

I asked my wife what happened.

“Brian¹ taught him,” she said.

Brian was a diminutive child, probably five or six inches shorter than my son who was of average height.

“Brian taught him?” I couldn’t help but let the disbelief creep into my question.

Apparently, Brian rode his bike around in circles so my son could watch him. It didn’t take long for our son to figure it out.

To make myself feel better, I can take credit for teaching him some of the mechanical basics, but it was his friend’s demonstration — giving my son an opportunity to see how it was done — that made the real difference.

The image of a toddler learning to walk is almost universally familiar. A good parent will never scold a child who falls when they’re learning how to walk. Quite the opposite is almost always the case. Quick comfort is given for bumps and bruises with grand celebrations when the first successful steps are taken.

I’ve often contemplated the shift in my approach between my middle son learning to walk and ride a bike. I had unbounded patience for him when he learned to walk yet gave up on him when he wanted to learn to ride a bike.

Again, not my finest parenting moment.

Here’s an interesting takeaway: When working toward something, how often do we give up on ourselves because we’re not making the progress we hoped?

• Ever tried dieting and eaten something in the morning that was not “on plan” which caused you to give up on the day / week / month? I blew it this morning so the day’s a bust!
• How about learning a new skill? I don’t devote as much time as I’d like to certain endeavors and often let my internal critic tell me I must be stupid because I can’t learn a thing as fast as John Travolta’s character in the movie Phenomenon.
• What about strengthening or repairing a relationship after years of not getting along well with that person?

Progress is about making incremental steps into areas of discomfort, even if the discomfort is so small it’s almost imperceptible. Progress requires going from where we are to where we want to be in ways that stretch and strain us.

Progress can be so gradual that you barely notice it, but trying to advance too quickly can lead to burnout, physical injury, or mental harm. Pushing for rapid improvement can be risky.

Think about trying to increase your personal best on a deadlift by 25% in one day. It’s not hard to imagine the kinds of injuries that could result in such a feat.

And mental setbacks from overextending can feel as real as physical injuries. This kind of mental exertion can lead to a belief that because we failed, we are a failure.

How do we strike a balance?

1. Set incremental goals. This is one we hear a lot. Our goals have to be achievable, but also need to be goals that cause us to stretch and strain a little. The progress of too little effort can easily be erased. Trying to put in too much effort will almost always lead to burnout.
2. Enjoy the process. Most skills don’t require us to learn Portuguese on our way to help find a lost child who is sick and in danger. It’s important to reframe the idea of “I need to succeed now” to “I’m getting better every day.”
3. It’s okay to pause, just don’t quit. Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s going to happen that life will get in the way. Getting back on track with the next meal is a lot healthier than giving up because you enjoyed a piece of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.
4. Look for examples. There are many real people who have “been there, done that” who can be reliable mentors, even when done virtually. Some care is required in this option because we can easily get sucked into just watching the journey of others without ever making our own progress.
5. Related to #2, celebrate effort. Acknowledging gains, no matter how small, counteracts the impact of negative self-talk. An interesting exercise when you find the inner critic getting too loud is to shift to acknowledging your gains with the same level of intensity as the inner critic. The inner cheerleader is a lot more fun to be around than the inner critic anyway.
6. Perspective is everything. We experience life through our senses, but our perspective frames how we interpret those experiences. This is related to #5. There is an occasional place for the inner critic, but listening to that message is typically far less important than listening to the cheerleader. Spending too much time listening to the critic causes us to frame our experiences, even some of the really good ones, in a negative light.
7. Show yourself compassion. Be nice to yourself! Show yourself the same kindness you would a toddler learning to walk. Do you deserve less than that? Don’t berate yourself for setbacks. Learn from them and move forward. Remember, we’re talking about progress. Self-berating does not equal progress.

Progress isn’t about perfection. It’s also not a sprint. We owe it to ourselves to approach personal growth with the same gentleness and enthusiasm we’d show to a toddler learning to walk.

When you stop to think about it, where you end up is just the destination. The growth didn’t happen at the end; it happened because of who you became along the way.

¹ Not his real name.

Are You In Your Beautiful, Little Rut?

Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

Have you ever been on a farm that uses those giant sprinklers, anchored at the center, that sweep in a massive circle? Those are called irrigation pivots. Pivots, for short.

During periods of heavy irrigation, the massive structures roll slowly along the wet ground, carving deeper ruts with each pass. At times, the ruts can get so deep that a regular pickup truck can get stuck trying to cross. So, farmers have to take the time to repair the ruts in key places, like farm roads, in order to be able to safely drive across a pivot’s path.

The metaphor of ‘being stuck in a rut’ is the idea that we develop habits or patterns of behavior that have become dull and unproductive yet hard to change.

The metaphor has a negative connotation, for sure. The image of the irrigation pivot digging deep trenches in the ground as it moves also paints the picture of increasing difficulty in a farmer’s life when being a farmer is already not easy.

Does that mean ruts are always a bad thing?

For 25 years, I’ve woken up nearly every weekday to go to work. Let’s suppose, after taking some vacation days, that there are 230 work days in a year. Over the course of 25 years, that’s 5,750 days. I’ve never worked an 8-hour-a-day kind of job, so let’s put the average number of hours worked at 10. That’s easy math. Now we’re looking at 57,500 hours.

I’ve traded that time for money (most of the time). The money I earn serves a purpose. It provides for my family. It pays taxes to support infrastructure and some worthwhile government programs (some not worthwhile ones too). It is given to charitable organizations and to support individuals in need. It’s used for recreational activities. It’s used (too often) for trips to the convenience store.

The principles I outlined in “Is Courage Just Stupidity with a Purpose?” are important to consider when evaluating ruts in life. I’ve always wanted to work for myself, but the practical reality of providing for a large family has kept me in the “rut” of working for someone else. For most of those 57,500 hours, that hasn’t been a bad thing. I’ve been able to use my skills to help businesses solve some complex business problems. That’s rewarding.

In other words, the rut, for the most part, hasn’t been bad. Many times, it’s been wonderful. I wake up day after day after day, go to the same job with the same people, and enjoy the time I have with them. We laugh together, share stories, and get stuff done.

Jeremy Goldberg gets credit for the statement: “Courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyway. Stupidity is the same thing. And that’s why life is hard.”

Dieter F. Uchtdorf, who flew professionally for Lufthansa German Airlines then retired as Senior VP of Flight Operations, shared a story about a group of everyday people trying to move a rather large piano. The story itself isn’t remarkable. I’ve helped moved dozens of pianos in my life. However, an important point emerged from his telling of that particular story:

Stand close together and lift where you stand.

At times, it takes courage to stay where you are, knowing that the risks associated with change may outweigh the good you do where you are. An all too familiar example is of the single mother raising small children who is stuck in a job she’d rather not be doing, but she sticks with it year after year because it provides sufficient maintenance for her family. 

Another example might be the young father who works multiple jobs so his wife can stay home with their children rather than putting them in daycare.

Ask the mother or father if they feel like their sacrifice is worth it. Ask them if they would do it all again for the sake of providing for their family. Sometimes, children grow up with deep gratitude for the sacrifice of their parents. Sometimes, they grow up resenting what they didn’t have. Rarely does the opinion of the child influence whether the striving parent would do it all again.

Then again, sometimes there is recognition that the courage to get out of the rut and the associated risk is low enough that a change becomes the thing that propels you forward.

Here’s the point: don’t make a change just because the talking heads and social media tell you that the grass is greener. I once left a decent job to chase the job of my dreams only to find out the grass was greener because of the ample application of manure. Thankfully, my decent job boss gave me my job back when the dream job fell apart.

Sometimes, staying in the rut is exactly where you need to be, and that can be beautiful. After all, farmers have been dealing with ruts their whole lives, but what they do is so important that they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the Noise Behind

 

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash

I recently read a beautiful essay by Don Johnson (not that Don Johnson). It was one of those essays that stirs the heart and somehow elicits both joy and sadness at the same time.

I aspire to write essays of the same caliber as his and John P. Weiss’s someday.

The central theme of the essay is the idea of leaving things behind. “Leaving things behind,” he says, “creates more space for new things, freedom, and growth.”

A common theme in my life is that life is full of the noise of things clamoring for my attention. For far too long, I’ve given outsize attention to the noisiest of things which are not often the things of greatest value. The adage, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” has been latched onto by so many things of little value.

In his article, Mr. Johnson suggests that it’s okay for us to “leave behind what no longer serves you with gratitude and kindness.” It’s an interesting departure from a growing social norm that we leave employment, leave relationships, leave political and social affiliations with as much noise as possible — with public declarations that such and such or so and so has lost our support because of x, y, and z.

What he suggests is that, even when making a departure from a difficult situation, it’s okay to have gratitude for valuable lessons learned in that situation. That takes a lot of emotional maturity that I don’t necessarily possess but I’m working on.

I believe the world is as noisy as it is because it’s filled with people who are desperate to be heard. There’s this constant pull to change, improve, and refine everything around us. That’s not necessarily a bad thing — personal growth comes from the stretch and strain of striving to be better than we are — but it’s a mentality often driven more by external pressure than a real desire to be better.

Mr. Johnson concluded his article with a profound and simple statement:

I felt good accepting things as they were and leaving behind the idea it would be better if they were different.

At first, letting go of the idea that everything needs to be constantly refined, improved, and polished can be difficult. After letting go of that expectation, the idea that the world — or even my own life — must be other than what it is gives way to an increased capacity to hear the quieter, more enduring parts of myself.

Make no mistake. It takes work to allow these quieter parts to guide us toward what really matters: greater presence, small moments of wonder, and growth in contentment rather than constant change.

I’m still working on embracing this quieter acceptance. I’m discovering a purpose not rooted in reshaping everything all the time. It’s an interesting thought that we have to allow space for things to bring meaning. With all the noise in the world today, it won’t happen by accident. I’m learning that it’s not about trying to shout over the noise. It’s about listening to a very small voice inside me — one that I’m helping grow — that remains steady, resilient, and more peaceful.

Counting the Real Things in Life

 

Photo by Trust "Tru" Katsande on Unsplash

Eve Arnold recently wrote an article that has stuck with me with me. In it, she wrote:

If you can, even for just a second, stop where you are, look around and count all the real things in your life, you’ll realise, you’re much richer than you think.

My employees know I’m the kind of person who engages in far more than I can ever accomplish in a day. I have more unfinished projects than I can count because I’m constantly distracted by either a higher priority or because I have a hard time saying no (mostly the latter).

I spend most of my waking hours in some degree of overwhelm.

Recently, I spent some time in the desert wilderness of Southern Utah camping with my family. We decided to leave at 4:30 am on the day of our trip. We woke up just after 2:00 am, finished our packing, and got on the road by 4:45.

Mornings are my thing, so I didn’t have any problem driving as my family settled back into peaceful slumber in the car (except for my youngest who stayed awake the whole 3.5 hour drive).

I regularly kiss my wife goodbye in the morning while she sleeps, but it’s not often that I see her sleep as daylight creeps over the horizon. Time slowed down just a little that morning each time I stole a glance at my wife as she slept. It’s an increasingly rare privilege to be married to your best friend. My relationship with my wife is one of the most real things I know.

We arrived at our campsite just after sunrise. The air was still crisp; a light breeze rustled the polychromatic leaves that had just begun to fall from the trees.

Days spent camping are paradoxically long and short. The hours seemed to stretch on as we alternated between just hanging out at camp and hiking in various places of the 45,000-acre wilderness area around us, yet sunset arrived before we knew it.

Time around the campfire singing silly campfire songs has been a tradition in my wife’s family for more than 70 years. My mother-in-law plays her guitar with the family singing along as best as they can. There’s never any judgment around how well a person sings or even if they choose not to participate. When they were little, every one of my children fell asleep in our arms as we sat around the camp fire singing.

When the distractions of everyday life are removed, it’s far easier to stay focused on the things that matter most; the real things. For me, this is a list of a few of the real things in my life.

• My wife. I feel so fortunate that my wife is, in all things, my favorite person. We laugh together, cry together, have intellectual conversations together, and watch Hallmark movies together.
• My children. An unknown author said that, “Children are the quiet miracle of a life unfolding before your eyes — a reminder that love is timeless, growth sacred, and every small moment together a gift that shapes you as much as you shape them.” That summarizes how I think about my children often. I’d be lying if I said that was always the case.
• My religion. I am devoted to my faith. I believe that religion has the potential to bring out the best in me and helps me see the best in others.
• My extended relationships. Outside of my wife and children, there are relationships in my life that I cherish above all. These might be relationships with extended family or friends.
• Reading. There are few things that bring calm into my life more than reading a good book. This is probably the thing I lose touch with more than anything when work gets busy. Well, that and my extended relationships that tend to get neglected when things are hectic.
• Helping others. Serving others is something that’s very real to me. In my employment and especially outside of it, I derive a lot of satisfaction from helping others solve their problems.

In my life, I’ve never had to deal with food insecurity. My family has always had a safe place to live. I acknowledge there are hundreds of millions of people worldwide for whom that is not a reality. At times, I’ve been given to excess, and I am self-aware enough to realize that my excess could have been better used to lift others.

Coming back to what Eve said, the real things in life bring me to quiet reflection on the kind of wealth I really have, one that exists outside of status, schedules, and the demands of unfinished projects. Connecting with the real things in life brings irreplaceable richness to our lives. Even in the busyness of life, we’re surrounded by real things that we may overlook.

The next time you feel overwhelmed, pause and consider the real things in your life. It may just change how you view things.