Developing Leaders, Teams and Organizations

Nidan (Part II)

2012-02-06T13:15:00.002-08:00

On May 1, 2000, I stepped onto an aikido mat for the first time. Some years later I began including aikido demonstrations and simple exercises into training programs for businesses and universities, and started bringing in qualified aikido practitioners and teachers to assist delivery. Why? Some of my clients had been requesting the Samurai Game®, but were asking for it to be delivered outside of design parameters. Their groups were either too small or too large, or they wanted delivery completed in less than the required time, or the situation was not appropriate for the Game. As a result The Art of Practice and the Organizational Dojo™ (AOPOD) was created.

This past June I separated my right shoulder days before my initially scheduled nidan (2^nd degree black belt) exam. The test was postponed until December 1^st. California Aikido Association rules require that an essay accompany the challenge. Last month's issue of The Ronin Post contained the first half of that essay, "On the Eve of Nidan". The remainder follows. It chronicles reflections I had on November 30^th, the day before the test. Aikido principles are transferable to personal and professional effectiveness for daily life outside the dojo and off the mat. The following principles and terms most occupied my period of reflection:

* Ai - Ki - Do = Harmony - Energy - Way, i.e. the way of harmonious energy

* Irimi = to enter into a situation

* Tenkan = to turn and look at a situation from the opposite direction

* Zanshien = the maintaining of a connection with all that is around you

* Onegai shimasu = a greeting or offer made to assist another learning

* Sensei = teacher

* Randori = being under multiple attack (i.e., all hell breaks loose)

* Kyu = any aikido rank below the rank of black belt, with 5^th Kyu being lowest and 1^st Kyu being highest

* Katate dore, irimi nage, kaiten nage, and kata dore = names of various techniques

* Uke = the "attacker" in a paired partner aikido training situation

* Gi = martial art training uniform

* Hara = body center point, about two inches below the navel

* Seiza = a formal way of sitting on one's knees

* Aikidoka = those who practice and study aikido

November 30, 2011

On The Eve of Nidan

Reflecting back to January 10, 1997. Mid-afternoon.

I am sitting legs sprawled, on Capitola Beach south of Santa Cruz. The sunlight is striking my face, as is a brisk sea breeze. The wet sand soaks through my trousers and puddles of water surround me. The tide is coming in. An hour ago my friend, John Gallagher, and I were walking over boulders and I slipped and fell. A horrible pain shot up and down the left side of my body. I heard my left femur split. John turned to ask, "Are you OK?" In hopeful denial I replied, "I think I've dislocated my hip." Broken the hip was, but broken I didn't want it to be.

John has gone to fetch help, leaving me alone. Down the stretch of beach a disheveled man with dreadlocks is ambling towards me. As he approaches I tense. I am helpless. Easy prey. Two things have kept me conscious the past half hour: deep breathing, and my incessant humming "Think of Me", a song from Phantom of the Opera. The man now stands over me. "Are you OK?" I respond," No, I'm not. I think my left hip is broken." He then acts differently than my fear has guarded me tense against. He extends an offer and asks, "Is there anything I can do to help you?" I accept his offer, "Can you hold my hand and help keep me from passing out?" He reaches out and we begin to talk. A little while later the police and paramedics arrive. My helper (training partner?) vanishes.

The paramedics assess the situation. They say the only way to safely get me off the beach is: first, carry me directly into the on-coming waves and beyond the boulders; second, move sideways parallel to both waves and beach; and third, turn and walk directly with the flow of the waves back toward to the beach. It's a painful journey full of twists, turns, bumps, jolts, laughter, screams, but it works. We get to where we're going. The next morning a surgeon skillfully aligns and joins together my split femur, wraps it with wire, screws a plate to it and then bolts the whole contraption into my hip. I live five days in a hospital and go home.

Three years later Richard (by now I'm calling him "sensei") introduces me to strange words which unfold into profound ideas: "uke" - a would-be attacker who ultimately becomes an ally to a life of growth (my stranger with the ragged hair); "onegai shimasu" - an offer made and replied to by training partners ("Is there anything I can do to help you?" "You can hold my hand"); "randori" - when we find ourselves in the midst of forces (waves and incoming tide) beyond our control, "aiki" when we blend with those forces; "get off the line" when we allow those forces to have their way, yet we remain in connection with our own needs and sensibilities and core values. Paramedics, I discover, know the importance of "irimi", and "get off the line", and "tenkan". And they get it that life is randori.

On a January day fifteen years ago, I sat broken and helpless on a beach, and was carried to an ambulance and was then pieced back together. I didn't think of that episode when it happened in the ways just described above - but I do now.

Reflecting back to May 1, 2000.

About a year or so ago I started bringing my younger two sons to Richard's dojo. He invited me to come here in the evenings to find refuge. The futon in the back is my perch from which I watch his classes. My sons snuggle and sleep on my lap. It's a peaceful place, yet filled with swirling energy and falling bodies. I like it here. Outside this building mine is a world of anger, disgust, judgment and disillusion - the residue of my second divorce.

Tonight, on May Day, I put on a gi and take my first official step onto the mat. I come face-to-face with a truth about me: I put ten units of effort into achieving one unit of result. How do I know? Within five minutes I am sweating and exhausted. No one else around me will break a sweat for another half hour, and some wont' even sweat at all.

Over the next few months it becomes clear (not because anyone tells me) that the anger, disgust, judgment and disillusion is a world I carry within. Who tells me so? I hear it in the same voice that told me three years ago to distrust a vagabond walking towards me on Capitola Beach. I've noticed that Richard Sensei has been weaving a discourse regarding life learning outside the dojo. He speaks of it as "to embody an ability to relax under increasing amounts of pressure." I begin to realize that in all the years we have been friends, he has never defined effectiveness as mastering ways to avoid life's pressures and problems. He's only spoken of effectiveness as an ability to enter well into conflict.

I didn't think of my life struggles that way on May 1^st, 2000 - but I do now.

Reflecting back to June 2001. The day arrives for my 5^th Kyu exam.

My youngest son is here to watch. He's a 10 year-old forth-grader and he has only just now learned to read. For him school is an exasperating and frustrating place. He knows of my education and he is aware of how smart his older brother is. Within him is a world of self-judgment and comparison is held. Himself vs. me. Himself vs. his brother.

During tonight's 5^th Kyu exam I find it difficult to remember the meaning of certain Japanese aikido terms. My front rolls look like falling timber. There are moments when I freeze. My back rolls look like tumbling cardboard boxes. Richard Sensei has to call out some techniques using English words. When my short span on the mat is complete I find myself in the midst of personal judgment and comparison - me vs. other aikidoka. But sensei declares with a grin, "You passed." Later that night as I tuck Alex into bed I'm curious to know his thoughts of my test. "Wow, Dad," he says, "You did great!" I reply, "Well thanks. But I barely got a D." From that day Alex begins to see his father and himself differently. Coming to my Fifth Kyu exam is part of a foundation from which, ten years later, he will stand and walk taller as a man. Though he's never stepped onto the aikido mat himself, a seed is planted that night from which he and I will appreciate each other and ourselves differently.

In 2001, I didn't think of a 5^th Kyu exam in this way when I stepped out onto the mat that night - but I do now.

Tonight - November 30, 2011. On the eve of Nidan.

Tomorrow is my exam; but it's also just another training day. Every day is a training day. Something uncertain happens. Every day is the test. No matter who one is, or what one does, or where one lives. What will I learn? I'm not sure. But I trust that my practice will be zanshien, so that I can learn from life's sensei - teachers that live in everything around me. I trust that I will irimi so that I can tenkan. I trust I will keep my base. I trust that I will move from my center, my core values, my true hara, and that when and if I don't that I will return to my center very soon. I trust that I will love life's ukes, in whatever form they take because through them what is (and will be) here for me to learn from will be revealed.

I may see things differently in the future than I do now. And I hope and trust I will.

Nidan

2012-02-06T13:15:00.001-08:00

Richard Strozzi-Heckler at Two Rock Aikido dojo www.tworockaikido.com

Twenty of my past thirty-seven years have been generally influenced by the martial art aikido (www.aikido.com) with the most recent twelve being directly influenced by it. Many Samurai Game® www.SamuraiGame.org facilitators use aikido-based movements to prepare participants for the Game's play. By 2000, I knew that to best understudy George Leonard (www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Leonard) and his Game I should engage in aikido. He practiced it, eventually held 5^th degree black belt rank in it, and wrote extensively about it. So, in May of that year I stepped onto the mat and began my own path of practice.

Some years later I began delivering a training/learning program using aikido demonstrations and simple exercises, and started bringing in qualified aikido practitioners and teachers to assist delivery. Why? Numerous organizations and schools had been requesting the Game, but were asking for delivery outside its design parameters. Their groups were either too small or too large, or they wanted delivery completed in less than the required time, or the situation was not appropriate for the Game. Out of this need I designed The Art of Practice and the Organizational Dojo™ (AOPOD).

AOPOD, now delivered internationally, provides clients and participants a powerful platform for enhanced awareness and practices regarding service, communication, leadership, teamwork and successful conflict resolution. Users, some on a recurring basis, include: Event Network Inc., Environmental Chemical Corporation, The Emerald Queen Casino/Hotel, personnel of the USS John C Stennis aircraft carrier, Bond University, Top Human International, Transcendence and Ju Hong HR Services Ltd in PR China, etc. Skillfully playing a major part in its delivery are Allied Ronin Associates Susan Hammond www.EaseIntoAwareness.com, Lisa Ludwigsen www.SchoolGardenCo.com, and Dr. Paul Marshall www.cdrs.com.au.

This past June I suffered a shoulder separation four days before my initially scheduled nidan (2^nd degree black belt) exam, and needed to delay the test for six months. The Ronin Post's July and August 2011 issues contain my article "Testing Time", dedicated to mountain climber Carlos Buhler www.carlosbuhler.com and how meeting him carried me through my injury and test postponement. On December 1^st, a few days ago, the rescheduled exam happened. At this level of testing an essay accompanies the challenge. Here, for this month and next, my essay is provided - completed November 30^th as I reflected on certain aiki principles directly transferable to personal and professional effectiveness in the world that exists off the mat.

A few definitions (some loosely translated) to assist your read:

* Ai - Ki - Do = Harmony - Energy - Way, i.e. the way of harmonious energy

* Irimi = to enter into a situation

* Tenkan = to turn and look at a situation from the opposite direction

* Zanshien = the maintaining of a connection with all that is around you

* Onegai shimasu = a greeting or offer made to assist another's learning

* Sensei = teacher

* Randori = being under multiple attack (i.e., all hell breaks loose)

* Kyu = any aikido rank below the rank of black belt, with 5^th Kyu being lowest and 1^st Kyu being highest

* Katate dore, irimi nage, kaiten nage, and kata dore = names of various techniques

* Uke = the "attacker" in a paired partner aikido training situation

* Gi = martial art training uniform

* Hara = body center point, about two inches below the navel

* Seiza = a formal way of sitting on one's knees

* Aikidoka = those who practice and study aikido

On The Eve of Nidan

November 30, 2011.

Now I go within to reach back and touch memories: things I have noticed along the way. Tomorrow is my exam; but tomorrow is also another training day - not only in the dojo. In life every day is a training day, and every day is also a test. No matter who one is, or what one does, or where one lives. Some reflections I'm having today on the eve of nidan.

June 14, 2011.

It's 11pm at Petaluma hospital ER. My nidan exam was to be this coming weekend; the operative word is "was". Four hours ago I took a fall on the mat and separated my shoulder. Outside the dojo in pain, I sat on a wood bench and looked up. My sensei is standing there. "Well, no test for me," I say. He softly replied, "Maybe this is the test." Moments ago the ER doc had good news. The injury is not major and I will heal. She says it's a matter of patience and time. Isn't that the truth - she, the doctor - could be sensei's best friend, showing up here tonight to remind me that aikido, like life, is something we live within. Tonight begins my entry into six-months from which I can turn and look back so I might move forward again. Tonight is irimi tenkan.

At the moment I landed on my shoulder and it separated I didn't take it as an opportunity to irimi and tenkan - but I do now.

September 30, 2011.

I'm sitting seiza at the recreation center gym in Incline Village, NV. The weekend seminar hosted by Truckee Aikido www.TruckeeAikido.org has just opened. It's an annual gathering for aikidoka from Two Rock Aikido www.TwoRockAikido.com (Petaluma) and North Bay Aikido www.aikidosantacruz.org (Santa Cruz). Richard Sensei, bows in and turns, "Let's practice Aikido". A wave of hot energy surges within me because these three words ("let's practice aikido" is his standard opening to every class) sound so differently in this moment. Prior to tonight I've interpreted this greeting as an invitation to engage in a martial art full of techniques: katate dore and irimi nage and kaiten nage and kata dore, etc. Tonight I'm struck that my journey these past eleven years stretches far beyond a martial art, or taking a sit fall or doing a soft front roll or learning to knee walk. Tonight I hear his invitation as "let's practice living in accordance with life's principles" - principles of mastery important to all: martial artists, musicians, lawyers, teachers, physicists, carpenters, farmers, soldiers, politicians, priests, rabbis, casino floor workers, sports coaches, workers on the floor of a stock exchange, bankers, prison guards, etc. Yes, tonight, "let's practice aikido" invites that I will perform certain martial art movements; but this shrinks in comparison to how I engage with people outside the dojo: how I listen, how I walk through an airport, how I comport myself when passing through immigration in some far off land, how I pay my bills and file my taxes, how I engage with my ex-wife, etc. All of this is suddenly included into possibility of "ai " and "ki" and "do" as a practice.

Before this night I didn't think of Richard Sensei's class greeting this way - but I do now.

1992. A late Spring day at 4pm

I am walking aside a pond in Lake County, California. Two government-issue general purpose medium tents stand before me; butted together they form the classroom for an intense seminar that I'm conducting. A few months ago I hired Richard Strozzi-Heckler to come here today and facilitate a leadership simulation, The Samurai Game®. Richard is fast becoming a friend and colleague. The Game is an aikido-based invention of his friend, George Leonard. I don't realize it at this time, how much Richard and George have contributed to the world as aikido sensei as well as through their individual and collective teachings based on aikido.

About a half hour ago the men I was in charge of followed Richard outside the tents for some grounding and centering exercises and "two-step", plus something he calls walking into empty spaces. Now on our way back to the tent Richard turns and asks me a simple question, "What is your practice?" I haven't a clue what he is talking about, and in that moment I'm tongue-tied, though my internal mental chatter is running non-stop. I look around me. A vivid world explodes and settles like dust: the sounds of birds and frogs, the warmth of sunlight striking my left cheek, the texture of the air stirring my hair, the smell of pond water, the crunch of my boots on rocks beneath my feet. Richard's exercises and his question have caused me to lift my head and reach out with my senses to connect with all that surrounds me.

Inside the tent he quotes Taisen Deshimaru, "You must concentrate upon and consecrate yourself wholly to each day, as though a fire were raging in your hair." In the moment it's impossible for me to know that in eight years in addition to the word "friend", I will associate "zanshien" and "sensei" when thinking and speaking of him.

Mindful connection. Teachers. Both are important, regardless of one's profession or study or occupation or position in life. All of us, whether walking to tent or walking through life, no matter who we are, if we look we will find many sensei. If we truly commit to connect we understand zanshien.

I didn't think about teachers and present mindedness in this context in 1992 - but I do now.

January 10, 1997. Mid-afternoon.

I am sitting legs sprawled, on Capitola Beach south of Santa Cruz. The sunlight is striking my face, as is a brisk sea breeze. The wet sand soaks through my trousers and puddles of water surround me. The tide is coming in. An hour ago my friend, John Gallagher, and I were walking over boulders and I slipped and fell. A horrible pain shot ...

(to be continued in January 2012 issue of The Ronin Post)

Insights with Eric T. Olson (part II)

2012-02-06T13:13:00.000-08:00

October's issue of The Ronin Post contained part one of an interview with Eric T. "Rick" Olson, the 67^th Commandant of the US Military Academy, West Point, and former Commanding General of the 25^th Infantry Division. As mentioned there, Rick has been a servant leader for more than forty years. He retired from the Army in 2005, but continues to serve what he believes in, particularly regarding ideas, ideals, and human beings. At the present time he directs strategic communication for the Child, Adolescent, and Family Behavioral Health Office (CAF-BHO), which manages and develops programs supporting military kids and families for the US Army. http://www.pbs.org/wnet/need-to-know/health/supporting-military-families-the-child-adolescent-and-family-behavioral-health-office/11354/

We now continue

"Insights with Eric T. Olson"

Rick: ... Leaders who respect those who work for them and who will have their back in cases where events don't go as planned are the ones who achieve the most success and for whom people want to work. There is no room in the military for "harsh or tyrannical treatment". The same can be said for leadership in the office, boardroom, the halls of academe or wherever teamwork is a requirement.

Allied Ronin. I think it would be an understatement to say that, Vicki, your bride now of thirty-nine years, is a powerful leader. What have you seen in her? What have you learned from her, the examples she has set and the stands she has taken over her lifetime?

Rick: She is an interesting example of a special type of leader. In most instances she had to lead fairly large and complex organizations and groups without any specific mandate. What has been critical to her success has been a tremendous set of interpersonal skills, a natural enthusiasm for everything that she takes on, and the kind of fierce determination to make good things happen that inspires others to get on board. She has also shown herself to be totally selfless in her efforts-her work on behalf of Army children and families is a prime example of where she sacrificed much of herself to the greater good of the community. She also is extremely organized and disciplined in her thinking and in her approach to problem solving.

Allied Ronin. What was it like being the Commandant at West Point? What challenges did you face? What moved you the most about that time in your life? What surprises did you find upon coming into that job?

Rick: Those who have been privileged to serve as Commandant of Cadets at West Point will tell you that it is one of the best assignments that you can have as a general officer in the Army. The unbridled energy of the cadets (sometimes too unbridled) is inspiring, and the quality of the young men and women who attend the Academy says great things about the youth of America. West Point is a superb way to ensure that great people are drawn to the service of the Nation, and the systems, programs, and institutions at the Academy tend to make good people better.

My greatest challenge as the Commandant was the day that four airliners were hijacked and suicide attacks launched at New York and Washington, DC. At that moment the 4000 cadets of the Corps knew that their lives would be changed forever in a very direct and personal way. That day it became incumbent upon us as leaders at the Academy to ensure that graduates of USMA had the best possible preparation to lead soldiers in battle, in some cases within months of graduation.

Allied Ronin. Sometimes I hear people who have never been in the military talk about "the military mind", and often as an expression of something rigid or having a particular political perspective. But in my own life I've found the opposite. In other words, I have found a divergence of life perspectives across the spectrum from people who have served - not only during our time, but before and after. What have you found? How have you dealt with the struggle that sometimes comes with bringing alternative perspectives into an alignment for action that can serve a larger or common good?

Rick: It is true that men and women in uniform think about things and approach issues and problems in a manner that might be loosely classified as "military". Any group of individuals who have a relatively common background, have lived and worked together over time, and have been trained and developed as part of the same system are going to have similar characterizing traits and will react to situations in a similar manner. A "military mind" is correctly viewed by those who see it in leaders who take a disciplined and organized approach to management and problem solving. But that does not mean that such leaders-or any individuals with military experience-should be expected to have a uniform set of views on social, societal, or political matters. Nor should one equate having a "military mind" with a rigid or unyielding approach to problem solving. The best military leaders at all ranks are those who are innovative and, within certain boundaries, prone to do the unexpected. After all, surprise is one of the classic military principles of war.

Allied Ronin. What matters to you? If your voice could be heard by people young and old, of our nation and the world at large, what would you want people to pay attention to?

Rick: That's a weighty question, and one that is hard to answer without lapsing into some pretty tired saws that sound right but don't serve any real useful purpose or function. But, OK, I'll try this: don't make too much out of anything.

Allied Ronin: You currently direct strategic communication for CAF-BHO based in Tacoma, Washington. What can you tell us about this organization - what it does, its importance, the need it fills and why - and your personal reasons for deciding to do this now?

Rick: The Child, Adolescent, and Family Behavioral Health Office (CAF-BHO) was established in 2008 to coordinate the efforts of the United States Army Medical Command on behalf of better behavioral health for military kids and families who are suffering from the effects of multiple and long term deployments of a dad or a mom. The statistics are pretty clear -- about a third of military children have exhibited some sort of stress related behavioral health issue that can be tied directly to the deployment of a parent. The CAF-BHO manages 3 primary programs that support the accomplishment of this mission: Child and Family Assistance Centers that provide and coordinate care for family members at the installation level; the School Behavioral Health program that puts care providers in schools with large concentrations of military kids; and a series of training packages that target primary care providers, parents, teachers and others who experience first-hand the issues that family members are experiencing. My personal involvement in the program dates back the time that I served as the commanding general of the 25th Infantry Division when Vicki and I were involved in the setting up some of the first programs specifically designed to care for family members while soldiers were deployed.

Allied Ronin: In what ways can average people from the general public, business leaders, and organizations from outside of the military support or help your efforts, and/or the efforts of CAF-BHO?

Rick: Community leaders -- be they business executives, school administrators, local government officials and the like -- can be of tremendous assistance to the efforts on behalf of military families simply by making an effort to reach out to the installations that are part of their respective communities. There are always activities and events that are designed to help kids and families that installations are conducting. Community support can be instrumental in making these activities a success. In locations where there is no installation nearby, look for the families that include National Guardsmen or Reservists who are serving. Their families need support too. In most cases the problems being encountered by military family members can be solved without a huge expenditure of money or other resources. Understanding and reaching out to military communities and members can go a long way!

Allied Ronin. Looking back over the last forty years of your life, what one or two things in particular do you feel is important that a person should understand about self?

Rick: Develop the ability to bounce back, and everybody does this differently. Know what works best for you, and practice it. Also, in the grand scheme very few of us is as important as we think we are, but we should never underestimate the impact that we have on the ones who love us.

Allied Ronin. Thank you for the time you've given this interview, and thank you very much for the service you've given over all these years. Is there anything else you would like to add?

Rick: Thanks Lance, and good luck as you continue the important work that you do.

Insights with Eric T. Olson (Part 1)

2012-02-06T13:10:00.000-08:00

Ours are revolutionary times. Not so much for the extent of turbulence

and disruption as because of the emergence of a significant number of thoughtful and aware people who see more clearly the world as it is and are not satisfied with it. - Robert Greenlean, (The Servant as Leader, 1970)

Eric "Rick" Olson has been a servant leader for more than forty years. Most of these years have been in the military and in places such as Germany, Bosnia, Somalia, Afghanistan and Iraq. In 2000, as a brigadier general, he became the 67th Commandant of the US Military Academy, West Point. Two years later he received his second star and moved on to command the 25th Infantry Division and all Army forces in Afghanistan. He was selected for promotion to Lieutenant General, but in a surprising move, he opted to end his career and move into civilian life. He served as Vice President MPEG LA (China) where he was responsible for the initiation of the first-ever effort to promote intellectual property rights and a patent license model in China. August 2006 to August 2007 found him at the US Embassy, Baghdad providing guidance and coordinating activities for provincial reconstruction. He then served as Chief of Staff and Special Advisor to the Special Inspector General for Iraq Reconstruction. Currently he is the director of strategic communication for the Child, Adolescent, and Family Behavioral Health Office (CAF-BHO), which manages and develops programs supporting military kids and families for the US Army.

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/need-to-know/health/supporting-military-families-the-child-adolescent-and-family-behavioral-health-office/11354/

Our path's first crossed in 1968, when we stood above the Hudson River and were sworn in as new cadets (plebes) at West Point. Following a three-month initiation (then called Beast Barracks) to the rigors of the Academy we were assigned as company mates. Over the next four years we became friends, and ever since then we've stayed in touch. Recently, I asked Rick if he'd be willing to be interviewed for The Ronin Post. His reply, "I'd be honored."

He should write his autobiography, a sentiment shared by a number of our classmates. If there's a stand-up guy, a person who is not only solid and smart but someone who takes time to examine the practicality of principles and perspectives, including those vastly divergent from his own, a person who cares about people and at the same time understands how to move decisively forward in the face of fear - then this is Rick Olson.

Join me now for Insights with Eric T. Olson.

Allied Ronin: You've had an incredible career. My guess is that there is still plenty in your future. But to begin with I'd like you to look back through the formative years that were your 1950's and 1960's. What was it like for you as a young person growing up and living in the family, the school and the community that you did?

Rick: I grew up in a "normal" community and had little exposure to the Army or any kind of military way of life until attending West Point. That said, my family was a stable one, I was the beneficiary of a solid public school education, and the whole community where I spent my formative years was characterized by a commitment to the importance of values and the notion that each individual had a responsibility to make a contribution to society-- that "growing up" involved embracing that responsibility and preparing to meet it.

Allied Ronin: On July 1, 1968 you stood on a grassy field, swore an oath, and became part of the West Point Class of 1972. What other college options had you considered? What influenced you to eventually decide on attending the Academy?

Rick: In high school, I ran in a circle of high achievers, and when it came to applying to colleges we all pretty much targeted the same small circle of schools-the Ivies as a first pick and local state universities as our "safe choices". Our high school had a few alumni who had attended the military academies, so it occurred to some of us (two in my HS graduating class) to take a shot at West Point.

In the end a high school classmate (who was also a lacrosse and soccer teammate and a good friend) and I chose West Point for pretty much the same reason: we wanted a challenge that went above and beyond the normal college experience. Speaking for myself, I had also begun to formulate in my own mind some vague notion of what selfless service to the Nation entailed and a belief that fulfillment would involve more than just rising in the corporate world, starting my own business, or making money. West Point just seemed like the right thing to do.

Allied Ronin: How would you describe cadet life of the late 60's and early 70's? On the one hand as one guy living inside a very peculiar system; and on the other hand as a young man living during a unique time of the United States - Woodstock, Apollo 11, Watergate, the resignations of Spiro Agnew and Richard Nixon, and what is known as "The Cold War" - how would you summarize this for you? What lessons did you learn about life and leadership from the experiences of this time?

Rick: I think too much can be made of the contrast between the life we lived at West Point in the late 60's and early 70's and what was going on "outside the gates". True, we didn't grow out our hair and put on bell bottoms, but we were not isolated from the ideas, political or societal trends, or spirit that characterized the larger American society at the time, and isn't that what that era was really all about? However, many of us who had chosen to attend the Academy at that time were probably naturally predisposed to challenge and question the direction that our civilian counterparts seemed to be choosing. Our view was that much of what was happening seemed negative and destructive-perhaps long on highlighting problems but short on solutions. If anything being at West Point at the time seemed to harden our resolve to look for constructive ways to solve problems, and perhaps to lead for positive change.

Allied Ronin: I believe that if we look we find that we all have had profound personal experiences, some large and others small, that we could call "most influential." What were a few of yours in your early career? Why were these so influential? And now, looking back, what would you say about these experiences and what they have meant to your life and the lives of others?

Rick: Rather than citing a specific incident let me give a brief description of a general situation. My first assignment as a young second lieutenant shaped an attitude and underscored a set of principles that prevailed through my entire career. The early 70's were hard years for the Army. The "hollow force" presented a wide range of challenges that we young officers and noncommissioned officers had to deal with: the shadow of Vietnam, draftee soldiers who wanted nothing more than to finish their careers and get home, broken and worn equipment, inadequate budgets that resulted in scarce training opportunities and the like. The lesson that we learned as we dealt with these challenges was that strong leadership and teamwork were essential to overcoming even the most difficult obstacles. Innovative and dedicated leaders who built, motivated, and led strong teams proved to be successful in even the toughest situations. That lesson proved to be useful to me at every level as my career continued over subsequent years.

Allied Ronin: There was a time when you had a horrible bicycle accident. I heard that during surgery you flat-lined. Is this so? Can you talk about that, how the accident happened, what your experiences were at the time and the hospitalization, and during your recovery afterward? What you've learned as a result about yourself, about life, about people and about relationships.

Rick: Well, not exactly flat-lined, though that makes for a better story! Nonetheless, there were periods of difficulty during the surgery after the accident and the subsequent recovery that the doctors considered life threatening. One lesson I learned from the experience is that you should always wear a helmet while bike riding! In all seriousness, the principal remembrance that I have from this experience is the care and concern that poured out from relatives (especially from my wife, Vicki), friends, colleagues, and West Point classmates (you were one, Lance). Times like these tend to remind you that you are not alone in the world-that people out there care about you, what happens to you, and what you do. There are lots of implications that flow from that realization.

Allied Ronin. When we were new cadets we had to memorize a lot of stuff called "plebe knowledge". One item in particular, "Battalion Orders" addressed the need to take a stand against favoritism. Another was "Schofield's Definition of Discipline". I remember being eighteen and reciting these to keep upperclassmen off my back. But then years later, as my life unfolded, these two became beacons that guided many of my decisions and actions. I've seen conflict, but never to the extreme that you have. I've had to make decisions, but never with the obvious immediacy of life and death consequences that you have. Can you speak to Schofield's Definition, its relevance to your life as a leader, and then to your understanding as to how it could be good advice for the average woman or man, boss or employee, father or mother? So that our readers can view this one themselves, here is a

link: http://freepages.military.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~nuri/schofiel.htm

Rick: Thanks for the link-I had to refresh my memory (you were always a better Plebe than me!) It's actually kind of ironic that this definition was such an important part of cadet life at West Point in our time there because we saw up close and personally several examples of how NOT to do things. Really Schofield was writing about respect. Respect from a leader for subordinates inspires respect from them for that leader. In combat these days, respect for a junior officer's or non-commissioned officer's abilities, knowledge, and skill is essential because leaders at the lowest level must be empowered to make decisions that can have strategic impact. Leaders who respect those who work for them and who will have their back in cases where events don't go as planned are the ones who achieve the most success and for whom people want to work. There is no room in the military for "harsh or tyrannical treatment". The same can be said for leadership in the office, boardroom, the halls of academe or wherever teamwork is a requirement.

Rick: She is an interesting example of a special type of leader. In most instances she had to ...

Small. Unexpected. Happening

2011-09-07T07:50:00.000-07:00

"Some things and some people just kind of happen by. You've got to be ready for this. In smallness these things and people will present themselves. The presentation will beg you to notice. If you're asleep you'll miss it. But if you're awake, well then, your noticing will illuminate the magnificent. This can create a transformation." -Papi Conpello

August 11, 2011. Pujian Road, Pudong New District, Shanghai. The only restaurant I can find within walking distance is a McDonalds. Strange? Yes, but unfortunately true. One of the things I like most about being in China is getting to eat real Chinese food - the kind that is hard to come by inside the US. Not today. At least, not here on Pujian Road. And what is served at McDonalds in Shanghai is adjusted to this marketplace, but just as fat-filled as back at home. Sad? Um hmm. Much of what China now exports to the US fills our stores. Much of what we export to China fills their arteries and lungs. Oh well.

I buy my burger, sit at a counter and open "Winterdance" - Gary Paulsen's delightfully true story of the little events that changed his life during his first (1983) preparation for and running of the Iditarod. I love this story. I must. This is my second time through the book. Today is my day off. So with no one to talk to I will sit and be alone (surrounded by twenty-three million people) and read in silence (surrounded by the noise of Shanghai bustling around Mickey-D's). But some things present themselves and beg you to notice.

Moments after my first bite of burger a little man plops down beside me. He touches my shoulder and begins to talk. I look up, tap my mouth and ears, and shake my head - my best way of saying, "Hey, I don't understand because I can't speak Chinese." He (little chin whiskers, grinning face, half his teeth gone, arthritic but animated fingers wagging away) just keeps talking. I realize it is his accent I am attending to, not his words, because coming out of his mouth is near perfect English. He wants to know all about me. Where I'm from. What I'm doing here. Who is my family? What is my work? I start to answer. We begin to communicate.

What he then does is most uncommon. For more than eight years I have been traveling to China and Taiwan - to places like Taipei, Qu Fu, Xio Lan, Hong Kong, Jinan, Wenzhou, Hangzhou, YiLan County, Guangzhou, and a bunch of other cities and towns. Until today I have yet to meet someone who, without prompting, freely discloses himself. But today, that person appears. He is a civil engineer. He is well past his eightieth year. He is a father. His daughter lives in the US. He is a dedicated former revolutionary. He has full control of his memories. His politic and mine don't see eye-to-eye. But I still listen. He is alive. He is fun. He is almost cartoon-like. He is someone to spend time with and search with for common ground. When human beings do that (search for common ground) they generate respect. And every human being probably in some way wants to be respected.

I explain that I originally come from rural central Arizona, but for the past thirty-seven years have lived in northern California. I served as a soldier in an infantry battalion, then became involved with the world of human potential movement. Because of this I've been influenced by and found understanding from diverse perspectives. He gets it. How do I know? His head nods and he smiles. He starts rattling off the names of all of the fifty states of the USA, where each state is geographically located within the US and begins to rattle off the names of various capital cities. He accurately describes the general tendencies between the peoples of the regions throughout the US.

Then he proceeds to recall who the US presidents have been during his lifetime, and for some he names their vice-presidents. Now I begin to smile. While he is talking I find myself imagining Jay Leno (Tonight Show) doing his person on the street interview sketch. In my mind's eye Leno pokes a microphone in the face of some recent US college grad and asks, "Who was LBJ?" And the response he gets is, "Oh that's easy, LeBron James!" Leno shakes his head and retorts, "Actually, I was thinking Lyndon Baines Johnson." My imagined interviewee pops back with, "Oh yah, yah, him. He was in charge of something important." Leno rolls his eyes, then he stares into the camera, grins and offers, "Um hmmmm. OK, well, yes. Actually, he was a politician. So, I have another question for you. Who's buried in Tomb of the Unknown Soldier?" His subject chuckles, "OK, you're trying to trick me. It's that guy!" Leno: "Who?" Interviewee: "You know that guy!" Leno: "LBJ?" Interviewee: "You got it! Am I right?" Leno shakes head and walks off camera.

Back to McDonalds. He: "Who was your favorite president?" Me: "During my lifetime?" He: "Yes." Me: "I would have to say Harry Truman. But I was a small boy when he was in office." He: "Want to know who I think the best US president of all time was?" Me: "Sure!" He: "Lincoln. He understood the importance of people." And then Mr. Chen Kwang Yu begins to recite the Gettysburg Address. He knows that to go through the entire thing is too much, so he skips to Lincoln's ending words and emphatically says, "Here's what's important: 'that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.'" Me: (I'm listening and say nothing.). He: "You know what makes those words so powerful? Lincoln didn't say 'will not perish'. He said 'SHALL not perish'. And by using 'SHALL' rather than 'will' Lincoln put his personal determination and life into it."

People pass by the window in front of our counter. They are on their way into the supermarket, wide-eyed and staring at this little jabbering fellow, and me sitting and jabbering back. [Yes, supermarkets exist throughout China. As do superhighways filled with Mercedes, Toyotas, Fiats, Buicks, Jaguas, Chevrolets. On thousands of corners you can find KFC, Starbucks, L'Oreal, Louis Vuitton. Along side them are billboards with Marlboro ads complete with coiled ropes and cowboy hats. These are not brand name knock-offs. They are the real deal. As are stock market worries, and economic concerns, and the fact that people in increasing numbers are in over their heads when it comes to mortgage vs. current home values. Home-ownership and mortgages in China? Sure! Didn't you know?]

A lady sitting three seats down from us catches the energy of what is going on between Mr. Little-guy (he) and Mr. Big-guy (me), and though she cannot speak or understand English, she is fascinated. How do I know? It's the look on her face, the crook of her smile and the twinkle in her eyes. She scoots one seat closer. Then another. Soon, she is joined by two more women, all wanting to catch some of the energy going on between me (what is that, a Wookie?) and he (who is that, Yoda?) and whatever this is (a Happening?). It's got to be the coolest thing at this location since, well, since Ronald McDonald. Doubtful that any of our eavesdroppers can understand what's being said, but they are attracted to the action and some corresponding potential. [Nothing odd about that phenomena when one considers Shakespeare, Janis Joplin, Jean-Paul Sartre, Einstein, James Joyce, etc. And, please - excuse any possible personal comparison. None intended.]

My new acquaintance begins to voice his opinion about the state of world, then how things in China are today vs. how they were in his day, then the comparative state of things in Europe and in the US and on and on. This is a well-informed human being. Our chat lasts an hour. My camera is back at the hotel so I can't take his picture. I grab my copy of "Winterdance" and ask him to sit still. I want to sketch his face inside the book's back cover. This blows his mind. It also blows the minds of the gals next to us straining their necks (and ears) to see (and hear) more. I tell him, "Look, it's been great to meet you. Yes, I will write (he gives me his address). But now, I have to leave." He says, "Oh, that's OK," and packs up his stuff to walk with me. Out of McDonalds and down Pujian Road we go together. He continues to lament about how things have changed since his beloved revolution. Again I reflect that this is altogether a very up-to-date person and accurate with an understanding as to what is going on - and how much he values personal connection.

Finally, I step off the sidewalk and head for my hotel. He waves. So do I. Goodbye.

August 31, 2011. I'm sitting inside my home office looking out the window at the corner of Prospect and Walnut Streets here in Petaluma. School just let out. The kids are walking home. A motorcycle cop rides by on his Harley-Davidson - blue light flashing. He is pulling over someone for who-knows-what. Most likely the driver will say, "Hello officer." The cop will reply, "Please keep your hands on the steering wheel. Do you know why I pulled you over?" Driver will probably respond, "Nope, haven't a clue." The cop will offer, "Should have been paying attention because it's minor, but in this case and with all these kids around, it's important."

Small stuff makes a difference. With it, each day is distinct, vivid and absolutely worth living.

Three days after I meet Kwang Yu at McDonalds on Pujian Road I walk along The Bund, a magnificent stretch of buildings spread along Puxi of Shanghai's Huangpu River. The place is packed. Easily there are fifty thousand people here enjoying the Sunday evening air. Seven days after standing along The Bund I'm in Hong Kong and catching The Star Ferry for a late afternoon cruise over to Kowloon. Here I hang out and watch the sunset before joining business associates at a fancy restaurant. It's great.

I'll definitely recall magnificent places and times spent with my associates. But as beautiful and as outstanding as these places and people are, it's the small, unexpected happenings that prompt my remembering. These are important. The seemingly insignificant gives rich perspective to life. It makes the whole thing spectacular.

At the least likely of places a frail little man walked over and tapped my shoulder. Why? Maybe he wanted to try out his English one more time before living his last day. Maybe he had a lot of stuff pent up inside and needed to get it out, knowing that only I could understand what he was attempting to communicate, and for that one instant of time he knew that he had this opportunity to freely speak his mind. Does my why to his need really matter? Probably not. But his why does matter. So, he opened his mouth and talked. I opened my ears and listened.

Who knows? Maybe he was bored and needed to talk so that when he arrived at home after riding his bus he could greet his wife and say, "Hello Xiaojing, I'm home! You won't believe what happened today. I met an American guy at McDonalds. We had a great conversation. He's going to write to me. Today was a good day!" Then Kwang Yu and Xiaojing could smile, have supper, hold hands and talk a few hours before drifting off to sleep.

Whatever. We connected for an hour or so. Small as he was, Kwang Yu topped everything.

"I enjoy life because I am endlessly interested in people and their growth. My interest leads me continually to widen my knowledge of people, and this in turn compels me to believe that the normal human heart is born good. This is, it is born sensitive and feeling, eager to be approved and to approve, hungry for simple happiness and the chance to live. It neither wishes to be killed nor to kill. If through circumstances it is overcome by evil, it never becomes entirely evil. There remain in it elements of good, however recessive which continue to hold the possibility of restoration."

- Pearl S. Buck, "Roll Away the Stone" (p. 21-22, This I Believe, 1952)

Testing Time- A Day of Life Lessons Worth Living (part II)

2011-08-07T10:35:00.001-07:00

Testing Time

-A Day of Life Lessons Worth Living-

(Continued from the July Ronin Post)

Papi Conpelo was never without his metal cup and his coffee. Maybe these were his touchstones, holding memories of special times and people. Perhaps they provided him some kind of mystical security, but I never asked. When Papi sat quietly he would gracefully roll the cup from side to side in his hands. He and his cup: old friends engaged in a conversation. This cup and its contents had become part of his identity.

Old, cold and dented on the outside. Fresh, warm and fluid on the inside. His cup. His coffee. His yin. His yang. One July morning after breakfast he handed me a greasy skillet, plate and fork. "Here," he said. "Will you clean this up?" Keeping his cup, he tossed its gritty contents laced with old black grounds hissing into the open fire. "You know," he added, "it's impossible for coffee to be a container." Then walked away whistling Gershwin's Summertime.

-from the Life and Times of Papi Conpelo

[Picking up from last month - Mountaineer Carlos Buhlerwww.carlosbuhler.com was our guest this morning forConversations With Interesting People at the Organizational Behavior Teachers Conference (OBTC) hosted this year by Marquette University. Dr. Joe Garcia, Associate Dean & Director, Center for Excellence in Management Education, Western Washington University, did the introductions and kicked off the ninety minute session. I attended and was fascinated with the lessons Buhler brought. He is one of the top high altitude climbers in the world, and specializes in small team first ascents, using no oxygen, and carrying minimal gear. To refresh on this see July's article archived at www.alliedronin.blogspot.com]

1:30 p.m. Friday, June 10, 2011

AMU Building, Cafeteria. Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

A tray of food is in my hands. Lunch is almost over, but the place is still full. There are only a few empty chairs scattered around the room. I find one. People will soon end their mealtime conversations and scatter off to the afternoon sessions. I decide to slowly enjoy this meal rather than rush to get somewhere else. I glance over my left shoulder. There, at the adjacent table sits Carlos Buhler. I eat. The room clears. It's quiet. I step over to thank him before moving on to another session where I'll be late.

He looks up at me and we engage.

Carlos: "Hi good to meet you. Where are you from?"

Me: "Sonoma County, north of San Francisco."

Carlos: "Ahh, great place. Did you enjoy yourself this morning?"

Me: "Yah, very much!"

Carlos: "Can you stay and talk with me a while? I mean, what'd you think? What did this morning mean for you?" (He really wants to know!! - like I'm going to be one of those people who will show up in his room in twenty-five years.)

Carlos again: "Is this OK? I don't want to keep you from a session, but I want to know. Can we talk?"

[I sit down on the floor next to his chair, between him and Joe Garcia. I feel like I'm in kindergarten all over again. We chat, until a moment appears and I get to ask my question from this morning.]

Me: "Are you familiar with Lawrence Gonzales' bookDeep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies and Whyl?

Carlos: "No!" (He grabs a piece of paper) "Tell me about it."

Me: "Gonzales writes for National Geographic. His childhood love for his dad, a survivor of two airplane crashes during combat in WWII, fostered a life-long study in the physical and emotional responses of achievers in high stress situations. From that he began a serious and well-researched inquiry. He wrote about this. Included were episodes of F-16 pilots flying on/off the USS Carl Vinson, and the climbers Yates and Simpson on Siula Grande, and Ken Killip's tragedy in Rocky Mountain National Park."

Carlos: [He's intent, silent and listening]

Me: "Have you ever found yourself in moments when you knew the risks are too high? Something inside you overrides your system and your ability to stop, so you move forward even farther into danger or disaster and later you realize you shouldn't have?"

[There is a silence. His eyes moisten and redden. His skin color changes. In an instant a distant gaze tells me he is now living in some far off land full of vivid memories. Then he returns and his eyes bore directly through my skull.]

Carlos: "I know what you are talking about. I was lead on a climb. There were three of us. [pause] We knew the risks. We all agreed that we were individually free to turn back at any time. We were very clear about this. Any choice would be honored. Our investments had been huge - years getting to this point. We were very close to the top and at that altitude our bodies were slowly dying. I had to summon enormous force to take a step, then I had to wait to gather the strength to take the next. Each time I waited the image of what I had done to get here floated through my mind. On every step my internal voice told me it was time to turn back. But then the feeling that I was driven to climb this peak would surface. I knew if I turned back that I would be here again in four or five years. I would have to reassemble all the resources to attempt another climb of this same mountain using this same route. I knew I would stand again on this exact same spot and I would have to endure this same internal conversation one more time. So I moved forward. I figured that maybe one or both of the guys behind me had turned back. When I reached the summit we were still together. It was glorious. On the way down, tragedy struck. One died. The other man and I were in a hospital for quite a while. I was lead on this climb. I had to go and meet with the father of my dead friend. When I did, his question was, 'How could you kill my son?' I had to answer. How he received and felt about my answer was out of my control."

Me: [I can't say anything. I sit on the floor, witness this lone human being feeling his memory, and realize that I have just invited into his world to share in something profound.]

8:16 p.m. Friday, June 10, 2011

AMU Building, Room 163. Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

I'm leaning against the wall at the back of the room, and listening to Dr. Jerry Biberman cracking jokes. Jerry, Professor of Management, University of Scranton,http://academic.scranton.edu/faculty/bibermang1/ is, as he has been the past few years, the MC at tonight's festivities. On the final night of every OBTC these college professors host a talent show. Some of them are accomplished poets, others are musicians, others are singers, and there are some magicians and storytellers. Some, like Jerry, are jokesters. His delivery is as good as Billy Crystal's at an Academy Awards ceremony. Tonight is a gut-busting gas of a time! To my right sits Carlos Buhler, present to his moment, laughing and enjoying himself along with everyone else. Clearly, my private conversation with him this afternoon was my reason for being at this year's conference.

If I could summarize Buhler's lessons for me they would sound something like this: "We practice so we can learn. We learn so we can draw on best that we have internalized. We draw on our best so that we can serve at any given moment. Sometimes we push through. Sometimes we have to turn back. We're responsible for both. We have to keep practicing. We have to keep learning, because we, or our children or colleagues, might be back here again some day."

Tuesday, 6:56 p.m. June 14, 2011

Two Rock Aikido dojo. Petaluma, California

I'm at the front of the attack line now. I hasten forward to engage my training partner. His energy, already shifting in harmony with my movement, begins to affect my balance, yet physical contact won't happen for another seven feet. When it does, I grab his wrist. He lifts me. My body turns so I can begin my fall along the same line that I took to engage him. But his energy cuts diagonally through my center and off to the side, something I hadn't anticipated. My shoulder impacts the mat in an odd way. I feel pain. I hear a ripping sound. As I try to rise off the mat I find myself desperately denying that something bad has happened. Reality sets in. My shoulder has separated. Sitting on a bench outside the dojo and feeling nauseous, I tell my sensei, "No test for me." My sensei replies, "Maybethis is the test."

Tuesday, 9:45 p.m. June 14, 2011

Petaluma Valley Hospital. Petaluma, California

I sit between two dear friends. They drove me from the dojo to the emergency room. Our sensei tagged us long ago with the name "The Litter Mates" because we have tested together for most of our individual journeys covering the past eleven years. Our friendship is tied solid. We are connected with an invisible rope woven of respect, care, love and forthrightness. We give each other honest attacks and honest feedback, and we enjoy the ride we've shared. In private we refer to ourselves as "The Mat Dogs". Here tonight we munch hamburgers while we wait for the doctor to give her diagnosis. We have to wait because a lot of people here are in pretty bad shape. The ER crew's time is best directed at them. My situation is minor.

I chew my burger. From somewhere deep inside me I hear Buhler's voice whispering: "In climbing, as in life, it DOESN'T MATTER that you ever summit. What MATTERS is that you learn."

Testing Time- A Day of Life Lessons Worth Living

2011-08-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

Papi Conpelo was never without his metal cup and his coffee.

Maybe these were his touchstones, holding memories of special times and people. Perhaps they provided him some kind of mystical security, but I never asked. When Papi sat quietly he would gracefully roll the cup from side to side in his hands. He and his cup: old friends engaged in a conversation. This cup and its contents had become part of his identity. Old, cold and dented on the outside. Fresh, warm and fluid on the inside. His cup. His coffee. His yin. His yang.

-from the Life andTimes of Papi Conpelo

6:55 p.m. Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Two Rock Aikido dojo. Petaluma, California

I stand in line waiting to move and give my training partner an honest attack. My exam is scheduled to happen in four days. Eleven hundred plus days have come and gone since my last exam. A part of each is dedicated to what will soon happen. Without the generous support of my colleagues helping me grow I wouldn't be here. The last six months have been particularly delightful and agonizing.

8:50 a.m. Four Days earlier. Friday June 10, 2011

AMU Building, Room 227. Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

I'm sitting in a room with forty of the brightest educators from the United States and abroad. They teach leadership and organizational behavior. Every year a different campus hosts the Organizational Behavior Teacher Conference (OBTC) and attracts over two hundred people like these surrounding me. This is my eighth OBTC. Dr. Kathy Kane, University of San Francisco (USF), is sitting nearby. She is this year's OBTC program coordinator, responsible for the success of the entire week. At her invitation Carlos Buhler www.carlosbuhler.com is also in the room. Kathy has introduced a new series of presentations called Conversations with Interesting People into the schedule. Carlos is this morning's interesting person. He is 57 years old, lean, wiry, relaxed, composed and alert. Nothing in the room escapes his gaze.

I spent a lot of time hunting in the Arizona desert where I grew up. Hawks would perch themselves on the poles supporting high-tension lines stretched across barren terrain, and from there they would wait to silently drop, strike and then carry off their unsuspecting prey. Buhler's appearance is hawk-like. A distant feeling comes over me. His energy will soon descend, but not take. Rather, he is about to give to us from what he has learned.

The film Touching the Void (have you seen it?) documents the 1988 successful first-ascent of the west face of Siula Grande in the Peruvian Andes. Simon Yates and Joe Simpson made that climb. But the film is dedicated to their descent and its emotional aftermath. From my hunting days I know that the real work of any outing happens after your shot has reached its intended target. Then every move you make becomes important. Living in remote country, hours from cities and medical help, with dirt roads being the norm, drinking only the water I could carry or find in streams, I've never thought of hunting as a sport. It was the way we gathered most of our food. To my father, hunting bordered on the sacred. He taught us (my sister, brother and me) to respect the land and what lived there. It sustained us. Mountaineering shares a similar respect. The "what-we-do-now-that-we've-made-it-this-far" is crucial.

Coming off Siula Grande, Simpson fell and broke his leg. Procedures dictated that Yates leave him and continue to the base camp alone. But he didn't. Instead, he selflessly decided, at great personal risk, to help his partner, and that became the fascinating and gut wrenching story. Rent the DVD. Experience it yourself.

So what? So, Carlos Buhler knows Yates and Simpson. He also knows those who made the ill-fated 1996 Everest expedition (read Krakauer's Into Thin Air) including the ones who perished. Buhler has climbed Siula Grande's west face and Everest. He is one of the world's top high altitude mountaineers. His specialty is doing it with small teams, no oxygen, and carrying minimal gear. He moves with negligible funding and tackles first ascent. He has taken on some of the most the world's most difficult routes, under the worst conditions.

This morning Dr. Joe Garcia of Western Washington University (Buhler's alma mater) is sitting to his left. At 9:00 a.m. Joe kicks off the conversation. Buhler smiles and extends his hawk-like gaze. Then his energy gracefully descends on us all. Our ninety-minutes with him begins to disappear.

The first question comes and he listens carefully. It is actually about six questions all strung together. He cocks his head to one side and exhales, "OK! Which one of these issues do you want me to take on first? Because this one will take our entire time." Everyone laughs. But he isn't joking. He dissects and addresses each point in a thorough and meticulous manner as though he is nailing pitons into a sheer cliff, connecting ropes, securing belay lines, checking the weather, coordinating with partners, and on and on. His reply to question #1 lasts a fascinating half hour. Then he cuts it short so other questions can surface. They come from all sides of the room, seeking connections between expertise, experience, management and parenting, education and ego, leadership in practice versus as discussed in journals, case studies, etc. He is inquisitive, too. "Why do you want to know that?" He wants to understand how his reply will serve the individual questioner and for what reasons (some reasons are personal) and for the long haul.

I find myself reflecting on Lawrence Gonzales' Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies and Why. Does Buhler know Gonzales? What does he think of his research and work? How has he dealt with the issues that Gonzales writes about? And then our time is over. My questions (as with others from colleagues also in the room) are left unasked. But that's OK, I look down at the yellow piece of paper on my lap. My hand has automatically recorded important points for me to work and play with on a future day. When that will be I'm not sure. My scribble reads:

You are free to do things totally by yourself. I am here to give you best options on how NOT to do that!
I have survived so far because I learned to pull together and connect every facet of all I have learned. Relationship building is what you must do in any kind of enterprise that you will ever undertake.
You have to be willing to call on ALL the resources and relationships you have in order to achieve your goals. Understand something - everything you do, every person you meet may twenty-five years later end up in a room with you. You need to live like this will happen, so that when it does (they end up in a room with you) you are clean with what you did, and the people there are on your team and will count with you.
Don't think you can ever waste a single relationship. In mountain climbing an enormous undertaking happens years before you arrive at a base camp: finding sources of funding, assembling equipment, practicing, creating teams, making promises including those to your kids, making deals with airlines, creating contingencies, etc. You MUST make good on all of your promises. If you don't, then when you come to ask for help again at some future time (and believe me you will) those who are listening will be less apt to support your effort. The web of relationship is what makes a person's life possible and rewarding.
Understand that there is a structure underneath you that allows you to take a long-term view of the processes to achievement. Invest in, make and build upon that underlying structure.
In climbing, as in life, it DOES NOT MATTER that you ever summit. What DOES MATTER is that you learn. Yet, I was driven to become the first American to summit two of the fourteen 8.000 meter Himalayan peaks. And I did! Even so, it DID NOT matter that I ever summited. It only mattered that I learned. I am still climbing. My life can end in an instant.

1:30 p.m. Friday, June 10, 2011

AMU Building, Cafeteria. Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

He looks up at me and we engage.

Carlos: "Hi, good to meet you. Where are you from?"

Me: "Sonoma County, north of San Francisco."

Carlos: "Ahh, great place. Did you enjoy yourself this morning?"

Me: "Yah, very much!"

Carlos: "Can you stay and talk with me a while? I mean, what'd you think? What did this morning mean for you?" (He really wants to know - like I'm going to be one of those people who will show up in his room in twenty-five years!!)

Carlos again: "Is this OK? I don't want to keep you from a session, but I want to know. Can we talk?"

-- to be continued in next month's Ronin Post --

Understanding The Leaders’ Retreat

2011-05-01T10:12:00.000-07:00

"The Japanese word shibui summarizes all the best in life,

yet has no explanation and cannot be translated.

A person is said to be shibui when

he or she greatly contributes to others

without doing anything to draw attention to self.

The retreat is VERY shibui."

Derick Tagawa, DDS, Whittier, California

2003. On a drive up Highway 101 from Santa Clara, California, I receive a request to design a Leaders' Retreat and make it available to the public. The request is from George Hersh, Owner/CEO of the GMJ Companies. The idea - bring together a small mix of men and women from diverse backgrounds who understand that their lives impact the lives of others. Potential attendees need to make application on their own or be invited. Who to come? Business leaders, students, artists, moms and dads and grandparents, athletes, managers, academics, teachers, professionals, military and former military, retirees and young people: basically, cut across the spectrum of experience, skills, levels of income and educations, political and spiritual beliefs.

George’s motivation? He had just spent an exceptional weekend retreat with Dr. Kathleen Kane and me that we had put together for the University of San Francisco (USF) available to MBA candidates, alumni, staff, faculty and family – and guests. Our USF weekend included ample time for attendees to interact and relax, to study and play, to refresh and reflect – but MOST IMPORTANTLY to immerse themselves in The Dialogue Method – meaningful, purposeful talk and listening generated through experiential means.

Kathy was responsible for my introduction to The Dialogue Method. She was using it to enhance the core MBA Leadership Course at USF. Dialogue, as both art form and skill, requires keen attention and practice. It linguistically connects the right and left-brain functions. The word sounds simple, and it is. But by no means is the method accomplished without effort, focus and attention to mindful service to all involved. Dialogue empowers individuals, couples and teams to engage with each other in an effort to build understanding and deepen learning.

Persons often come together from polarized perspectives loaded with conflicting agenda. Therefore one’s attitude must be disciplined to listening and learning rather than convincing, cajoling, belittling or debating. Briefly stated, when I first encountered Kathy’s students in Dialogue, I saw, felt and experienced the same principles that are richly present in aikido. Yes, Dialogue is verbal, but it begs attention to individual and group reactions/responses experienced emotionally and physically.

George Hersh comes from a hectic service industry integrating multiple companies engaged with each other, the public, private businesses and government agencies across time zones in diverse transportation, moving/storage and records keeping businesses. He owns Sports Associated, Inc.; Topeka Transfer & Storage,; Capital City Distribution; Professional Records Management; O’Neil Relocation; etc. He entered our USF weekend filled with anticipation and a definite need to relax. His businesses demanded that he remain home and at work. Yet, he understood that the time for a retreat is often when it is least convenient to take the time to relax, i.e. when pressures are at their highest. What he found was exactly what he needed. Fresh ideas. New interpretations. Supportive communications. Rich experiences transporting him out of his norm. Positive and constructive perspectives and feedback. And a physical body (his) freed from tension and tightened muscles. He left refreshed and keenly more aware of what he could do to better problem solve, save time, energize, communicate and focus. On this basis came his request to me.

2004. The first Leaders’ Retreat – Scottsdale, Arizona. There were a handful of us. George, plus: a long-time friend of mine who owned a medical equipment company outside of Phoenix; an orthodontist from the Los Angeles area; the director of in-home services for two California counties (himself a paraplegic); a senior vice-president of a global construction firm; a fellow in the real estate development business. What to do? – Dialogue, exercise our bodies, we play one constricted form of nine-hole golf that was quite revealing, Dialogue, take walks together and read, Dialogue, watch films, Dialogue, eat meals together, Dialogue, throw out ideas to assist our individual personal and professional lives, Dialogue and … Dialogue. At the end of three days we looked around and asked ourselves “Why stop?, When can we do this again?” So, a second Leaders’ Retreat was scheduled for the following year.

The second Leaders’ Retreat – Scottsdale. One year later. Some of the same people returned. Others joined in. What to do? - Dialogue, exercise our bodies (we integrated some aikido movements), Dialogue, eat meals together, Dialogue, take walks together, Dialogue, one person took time for a massage, Dialogue … get the picture? In other words – we kept things simple, purposeful and definitely in the Here & Now. At the end of three days the response - “Why stop?” Someone suggested, “This should be made available every six months, whether I can come or not. Give me a winter option and a summer option.” Another requested – “Scottsdale is great, but can you find somewhere out in nature, somewhere that we can get away from pavement and traffic and phones and restaurants and the stuff that’s normally in our lives?”

Another year later. The third Leaders’ Retreat. We are now using Four Springs Retreat Center, Middletown, California www.FourSprings.org. Some of the same folks return. Others join in. Our schedule expands by a full day. What to do? Guess. You got it – Select topics for self-study, Dialogue, take walks in the forest, Dialogue, laugh together, Dialogue, integrate somatic work, Dialogue, etc. On the second day a real Type-A businessman who spends most of his time traveling the globe makes an odd request, “Can you get me some construction paper, some colored pencils and chalk?” We do. He spirits himself away for that day into the small art studio under pine trees on the property. That evening he returns grinning and whistling with a pile of drawings to take home, “I’ve been jamming at life so hard that I’d forgotten what it’s all about,” he says. “How young and alive I used to feel and how important my wife and kids are. These are for them.” The same guy cooks supper for us all on our last evening together– traditional homemade Japanese cooking - another art form that he had set aside that once kept his youthful juices flowing.

The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, etc. Leaders’ Retreat (How many by now? I’m not counting anymore.) We’ve long since established (as requested) a six-month schedule with both winter and summer offerings. Four Springs Retreat Center is now our home for many years. What’s been added: walks through the forests to enhance situational awareness, centering practices, somatic education, Feldenkrais Method® classes, use of TED films to stimulate thought and understanding, music, creative cooking experiences, creative problem solving activities, a class to assist understanding the health benefits of herb and plants found in the forests we occupy – plus more. Yet, remaining consistent throughout is The Dialogue Method. Thank you Dr. Kathy Kane – who by now has attended The Leaders’ Retreat and is always an invited guest.

Who attends the Leaders’ Retreat? As the years have unfolded a number from our first two offerings held in Scottsdale continue to return, plus others: women and men from the broad spectrum of experiences, ages, beliefs and backgrounds. A retired school principal, a former professional baseball player, two young professionals both graduates from USF who (having remembered their days at the retreat Kathy and I created) jumped at their chance to come – and each more than once, a retired park ranger, a young man from Mexico who is into mixed martial arts, another from Mexico who delivers educational programs for children, a magazine publisher, a former Army Special Forces LT Colonel, a single mom raising two young boys, married couples attending together to get-away, an executive and a shift manager from a Native American casino, attorneys, a chef, financial planners, the former manager of a radio station, a consulting engineer key who played a key roll in cleaning up the mess that Boeing has made with their 757 aircraft, a retired military chief warrant officer, real estate brokers, a woman who owns and operates vacation rental properties in three states, and many other people.

Is the Leaders’ Retreat for you? It is certainly designed with you and your well being in mind. To understand its essence you need to grasp the notion that you are already a leader, i.e. that being a leader means you are indeed a person who in some way influences others to action. This fundamental and key principle was put strongly forth at West Point, the school I attended many years ago. It holds that being a leader is not dependent on rank or position or job title or level of education or the amount of money one has in the bank or gender or length of time on the planet or religious affiliation, etc. etc.

What The Leaders Retreat is NOT. It is not a “management” retreat, nor is it an “executive” retreat, nor a “bosses” retreat. It is NOT even a “leadership” retreat. And, it definitely is NOT a golf outing offered in disguise so that good old boys can sit around, chew the fat and tell each other worn out stories (and yes, as mentioned above, we did use golf at one retreat as a metaphor). This is The Leaders’ Retreat, i.e. a gathering of sincere individuals who understand their lives influence other lives, and who want to enhance their capacity to influence by taking time to rejuvenate, relax and exercise, deal with abstractions, think and play, study and serve themselves and others for the sake of creating a healthier and more constructive world – beginning with their own.

Our time together is simple and fulfilling, skill building and enriching, thought provoking and reflective. It is conducted in a most respectful, peaceful and pressure-free environment, void of criticism and “have to’s”. Moreover, the Leaders’ Retreat is a place where Dialogue is encouraged, studied, embodied and practiced.

To obtain an application for the Leaders’ Retreat download pdf document “Leaders’ Retreat Invitation” found at www.AlliedRonin.com/services.htm. To register for the July 16-20 Summer 2011 Leaders’ Retreat call 707-769-0328 or email your completed application to AlliedRonin@aol.com or info@AlliedRonin.com.

It will be great to have you there.

“Very rewarding!

If your life makes a difference in the lives of others

then I highly recommend you attend

for yourself, your family, and your colleagues.”

Dr. Lulu Lopez, Former Principal

Mt Vernon Community Schools, Alexandria, Virginia

Reflections on Brian

2011-04-25T18:04:00.002-07:00

Thursday, April 7, it's just past 8 p.m. Tonight's aikido class is over. I'm driving east on Middle Two Rock Road, Petaluma. I flip open my cell phone and, "Whoa - what's up?" A surprising number of messages are waiting. I pull over and stop the car to listen to what this may be about.

Today my friend, Brian Klemmer, lived his last day.

Our paths first crossed under a late afternoon sun on the grassy lawns at Battle Monument, West Point - July 1, 1968. There and then that we stood together and solemnly swore an oath to support and defend the US Constitution. With that we officially became plebes (new cadets) and members (Proud & True) of the Class of 1972. We journeyed four years in that historic place. There we shared classes and jokes and parades (in blistering sun and sub-freezing temperatures) and forced marches and inspections and the counter revolution (Woodstock was just down the road) and history (Neal Armstrong walked on the moon, Spiro Agnew and Richard Nixon made speeches in our presence) - and now and then slugged down cups of coffee and devoured dozens of donuts. Brian distinguished himself as a jock and first-string member of the "team of the decade" - Army's Intercollegiate Sprint Football Team that won many Eastern Light Football League championships. Upon graduation we both drew assignments to the 25^th Infantry Division. There we served together as "Gimlets" - soldiers of the 1/21st Infantry Battalion.

During our Gimlet days I had the pleasure of introducing Brian to the world of personal growth seminars and human potential movement (a world in which he would decades later excel as a businessman and leader). I had attended a seminar in January 1975. It was eye opening. A lot of good things were happening for me as a result, one being an increased ability to shrug off negative distractions during intense situations - to stay positive and focused on tasks at hand. Some months later Brian strode into my little office in Delta Quad, Schofield Barracks, plopped down into a chair, put his boots (dirty) on my desk. "Hey! What gives you the right to be so happy around here?", he grumbled. "Don't you know this is the Army!" I informed him that on Wednesday night a group of folks would be getting together in Honolulu, that he was welcome to be my guest, and that he might find the answer to his question there. His reply was specific and goal oriented, "Will there be any women there?" I grinned wide, "Sure Brian, there will be women there. Some of them single." That Wednesday night we met at the Waikiki Travelodge. He went to an adjacent room to learn about the seminar. Forty-five minutes later he came back and asked, "Hey, are there more women at the real seminar than here at this guest thing?" I grinned again, "Yep!" He enrolled.

[Years later I would reflect back on that evening as an example of one of the lessons our (Brian's and my) future mentor used drill into us, specifically - "People do things for their reasons. Not yours. So you have to listen. Listen for needs and wants. Then find ways to help those you are listening to. Assist them with what they seek. It's called service. It's the key to everything. Don't concern yourself about there being anything in it for you. Forget about that stuff. It's probably the most important lesson you can learn."]

That battalion to which we were assigned once had a proud and brilliant history. But by the time we found ourselves there its reputation had sunk to the point of being one of the most miserable places at Schofield to be assigned, full of dissention and in-fighting. In fact, it was rated the lowest battalion in the 25^th Division. There was general defeatism and angst, and amongst the officers very little trust. In two words - it sucked. The two of us made a pact. We decided to experiment with what we learned from our seminar experiences to help us function on the job. Though we oversaw vastly different responsibilities we started helping each other out. I'd stay after hours and help him with his duties. He'd stay after hours and help me with mine. We'd interrupt (or walk away from) other soldiers' negativity or defeatist conversations, making it known that we didn't want to live and work in that kind of environment. This synergy and stand became infectious. Other officers - commissioned and non-commissioned - began to notice and some picked up on it. A year later the battalion was turned around and once again become a solid and effective organization. On the record and after having every test and inspection thrown at us, short of combat, we were officially ranked as the number one battalion in the Division.

One day Brian and I conspired to meet alone with Major General Harry Brooks, the Division's commanding general. We made an appointment and opened our allotted fifteen minutes by declaring, "Sir there's a two-day leadership workshop coming to town and we think YOU should go." Brooks was shocked at our abruptness. What happened next was maybe the longest 30 seconds of silence we had lived through, before or since. That's another story, but the bottom line was this: General Brooks spoke some unforgettable words: "What the hell. I don't know everything there is to know about leadership. I'll go. Now, do you two guys want anything else? If not, you're dismissed." Brooks went to that workshop. He was introduced to the Behavior Matrix, the Three R Thought Process and ways to find alternative perspectives for better communication. He loved what he found. He immediately put the notions into practice, and began exposing 15,000 soldiers to their potential. A brilliant example of a leader listening to and trusting his subordinates. This introduction of General Brooks to what we were up to would never have happened without Brian Klemmer.

Two years later. June 2, 1977. On this day Brian and I stood next to each other in Oakland, California. Our last day in uniform. We out-processed from the Army, changed clothes and immediately walked into new careers working for the same seminar company. We were off. I hopped a flight to Salt Lake City to teach a seminar. He drove north towards Lake County. We had stepped - shoulder to shoulder - into, and became part of, the world of the human potential.

For the next seventeen years we transited many incredible highs and many bizarre disappointments that came with this phase of our journey. At times he worked for me. Then, after he left the company and was launching his own infant organization, I too left. He offered me an opportunity to help him. So I subcontracted and briefly served his efforts.

Simply put, looking back over the last forty-three years -- we kept each other's back and we kept each other's sanity. If there were a foxhole to share, he'd be in mine and I would be in his. We tossed a few beers together. We problem solved together. We camouflaged our faces, dug fighting positions and went for days without sleep in the muck together. We dreamed about and planned possibilities together. We shared our confidences and we kept each other's confidences. We did what friends and comrades do - we worked with and fought with and smiled with and yelled at and partied with and argued with and celebrated with each other. We shared a hundred thousand laughs and at least as many tears.

For four plus decades we saw each other through joy and pain, through love and loss - and love again. We watched each other's children be born and grow and mess things up, and then stretch out and blossom to begin to become the "Who It Is" that they have within themselves To Be.

We didn't always see eye-to-eye.

But we did see heart-to-heart.

That's what our camaraderie was about.

Thursday, April 7. It's 8:30pm.

Today my friend, Brian Klemmer, lived his last day.

I'm walking around inside an empty post office in downtown Petaluma.

I've been staring at my cell phone for almost half an hour.

I loved this guy. He was a man of service.

We walked a long road together. I will miss him tremendously.

I call his home. His wife answers. She knows it's me.

I listen.

Seating Capacity 79

2011-04-25T18:04:00.001-07:00

Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable

Mary Oliver

A February Friday evening at 7:15 p.m. I am standing inside the William J Geery Theater on Sacramento's "I Street". It's slightly warmer here than on the street, and it's definitely not warm out there. Fortunate. Nick, my son, has access and is able to get us in well before the show. He's only twenty-three, yet quite an accomplished musician - great on trumpet, sousaphone and tuba, xylophone, accordion, guitar and base, vocals and a bit of sax. But the piano and keys - he's unreal! His talents years ago opened a door to his leadership - Tonight's performance, "Personals", is just one on his growing resume' as an orchestra leader.

Nick promised me the best seat in the house - front row, second chair from the left. I don't know what the deal is, but he grinned wide as he told me that. So, I have a feeling there's a risk involved. But when is life not. I've thrice been to his performances of "The Rocky Horror Show". Those of you who've been to a live "Rocky" can appreciate what it's like to be in the audience - especially when cast, crew or orchestra tell you they are giving you something special.

Tonight's doors open in thirty minutes. A few folks are beginning to gather outside. Soon they'll be in here with me and help warm up this place. Like I said, I'm fortunate. At the rear of the theater a posted a sign declares, "Seating Capacity 79". Full House here is relative term. It depends on your point of view. How full is full?

This "Seating Capacity 79" gets me thinking and I find myself wondering about my internal "seating capacity"? When it comes to my willingness to let other in and understand and learn from them. How many "seats" inside me do I have before I become "full"? Within the "theater of my mind" who is actually plays the part - the roles that are unfolding? When I speak is it really me who is doing the talking? Or my father or mother? And, for what purpose? How about you? Your maximum capacities? Who and how many are allows to get in with you, and what about your internal role plays, etc.? When it comes to having, holding and examining perspectives - and dealing with conflicts or inflexibilities that perspectives and perceptions can generate - how much room do you have? How much room do you make? How much room do you give others? Before the door closes.

I look at my watch. Weird, it's actually been about seventy-nine hours (coincidence?) from my arrival back after four weeks of travel that carried me from Northern California to the Puyallup Nation of Washington State; to Brisbane and the Gold Coast and Bond University of Australia; to Malaca and Kuala Lumpur and Sepang of Malaysia; then back to Australia and the international airport of Sydney ... and finally to this front row seat inside of a tiny theater buried deep within Sacramento. What's happened since I left? Gas has gone from $3.20 to $4 per gallon. One of my dearest friends and has undergone brain surgery. The streets I familiarized five months ago in Cairo have been filled and bloodied and transformed beyond my wildest imaginings. Colleagues there have gone silent. Governments across North Africa are teetering or have toppled. Christchurch, New Zealand has been slammed to the earth by the earth. I listened to it unfold over lunch at the Sydney airport. The Academy Awards have come and (yawn) gone. And Charlie Sheen has been - well - Charlie Sheen. Wonder what Britney is up to? (no I don't)

Some years ago, Dr. Kathleen Kane introduced me to a practice called "Dialogue". We all know that word, yes? "di·a·logue (noun) a conversation between two or more people as a feature of a book, play, or movie" [Oxford American Dictionaries]. But this thing she introduced me to went way beyond that -- it captured me into a skill building process of listening and self-examination. Capture? Yep - I'm still there. Kathy uses Dialogue as a key teaching/learning methodology in MBA management and leadership courses at the University of San Francisco. In a way Dialogue incorporates the most basic and elemental principles of the martial art aikido, that I grapple with four days a week. Those principles being: (1) full presence; (2) gracefully moving around a center point; (3) being always willing to enter into a risky situations; (4) blending, blending, blending no matter the cost; (5) adherence to respectful interrupting; (6) maintenance of comportment, integrity and dignity; (7) proper distance and boundaries; (9) proper timing; and (10) knowing when to stop, i.e. shut up!

Here then for your use, is Dialogue - A Method for Enhancing Capacities for Effective Communication, exactly as it was given to me by Dr. Kane. Take it on this month. You just might expand your internal "seating capacity". But you can survive without it. You can always have your old self to hang around with and be right about what you've been right about all along. And things can be (or seem to be) just the way you want them.

~~~

DIALOGUE

Rather than a set of rules, these are reminders of the level of attention that lies at the core of Dialogue. They are aids to enhance the capacity of awareness of our thoughts, feelings, communications, assumptions and judgments - all of which help attend to the meaning unfolding within relationships, groups, teams and organizations.

Building Blocks to Dialogue. These involve learning a new way of being together and interacting. They involve skills that overlap and interweave.

Suspension of Judgment. Because our normal way of thinking divides, distinguishes and creates "ultimate truths" from limited data, it is often difficult for us to stay open to new and alternative views of reality. When we learn to "suspend judgment", we are able to see other points of view, and we hold our own positions "lightly". It is not that we do away with judgments, rather we learn to suspend them to become open to other perspectives and build a more holistic view of our world.

Assumption Identification. The opinions and judgments we hold are usually based on layers of assumptions, inferences and generalizations. Failure to look at the belief systems behind important decisions is often a cause of disappointing results. As we learn to identify our assumptions, we are able to correct incoherencies, explore our differences with others, and build common ground; these are useful skills when working with learning new concepts and ideas, sharing diverse perspectives, and conflict resolution.

Listening. The focus here is on how the way we listen impacts our ability to learn and our effectiveness in building quality relationships. We develop our capacity to stay present and open to the meaning arising at both individual and collective levels.

Inquiry and Reflection. Einstein said, "Our problems cannot be solved at the same level at which they were created." By learning how to ask questions that lead to new levels of understanding, we accelerate our collective learning and gain greater awareness of our own and others' thinking. Through this building block, we reach what David Bohm called the "subtle state of mind" and gain the sensitivity to perceive the thinking process itself and the subtler levels of collective meaning.

Guidelines for Dialogue. Each time a group (or two people) comes together to Dialogue they commit to agreed upon guidelines, the primary function of which is to act as a reminder of an alternate way of being and communicating and of the need for heightened awareness and attention. Some useful guidelines are:

· Listen and speak without judgment

· Speak only for yourself, truthfully

· Acknowledge each speaker

· Respect differences (suspend certainties)

· Suspend role and status importance

· Balance inquiry and advocacy

· Avoid cross-talk

· Focus on learning

· Seek the next level of understanding in order to expand the inquiry

· Balance speaking and listening

Held lightly, the guidelines and building blocks will help groups enter into Dialogue. Held too firmly, they will trap the group in just one more structure and limiting system. Above all else, Dialogue is a living process that requires us to be open to letting go of the known in order to discover new perspectives and understanding.

A Shorthand To Dialogue - The Power of Collective Thinking

· Speak only for yourself, truthfully

· Include what has already been said

· Operate in a more of inquiry - Expand it - Slow it down

· Be aware of internal reactions, motivations, thoughts and feelings

· Be aware of the external conditions of the group

A February Friday. It's 8 p.m. We're all seated and about to watch from individual perspectives our evening of "Personals" unfold. I know I have the best seat in the house. Nick told me so. I'll need to wait to discover just how come. Meanwhile - I look up - his face grows intense. His hands steady above the piano keys. His head takes up a nodding rhythm, and on one of his particular nods the orchestra explodes. I glace around. The house is about 80% full (or 20% empty depending on perspective). Four actors well into their alternative realities rock the stage. I drift into another world for a while just to let all sink in.

Wild Geese (a poem by Mary Oliver)

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebble of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family.

Paragraphs. Life Lessons in Bite Size Pieces

2011-04-25T18:01:00.000-07:00

"Life will come at you from out of nowhere.
And into nowhere it will return."
- Pappi Conpelo.

January 21. 11:00 a.m. Email arrived from my friend John Pace of Bothell, Washington, (July 2010 newsletter "Somewhere in the midst of our conversation he offers, 'You know, hospitals are interesting places to study people. In the morning you can read hope and good wishes in the way they carry their bodies. By evening -'"). John's email was replying to one I sent earlier today suggesting he the news at AOL regarding the Boeing 787 aircraft progress - actually lack of progress. John, a highly skilled consulting engineer and pilot has spent years finding and fixing Boeing mistakes. When John and I walked the forests at the 2010 summer Leaders' Retreat we talked about how management mindsets regarding the 787 situation could possibly mirror the mindsets held by expedition leaders of the 1997 ill-fated climbs on Mount Everest (see "Into Thin Air" by Jon Krakauer), and mindsets of managers at NASA and Morton Thiocol prior to the Challenger disaster (1986), and similarly at NASA preceding the disintegration of the Columbia (2003). John's words today by email, "Thanks for the link, all I can do is shake my head. The US auto industry had to learn not to let the accountants run everything, and now Boeing needs to learn to not let salesmen and purchasing people run everything. They are at high risk of not getting certified." Reading what John has written I recall times I've received requests from potential clients asking for a lowering of standards in order to save time or make more money or deliver something "a little sexier". Usually accompanied with, "You need to understand, we're different here. We're smarter than most people. We can skip the lead-up and the introduction and get to the juicy stuff." My response? Calmly refuse the work, state my reasons why and let the client walk on. Not a formula for quick riches, but the night's sleep sure feels good. FYI, for the Boeing link Click here.

January 21. 3:30 p.m. The shadows outside Starbucks at Truckee's Northstar Ski Resort say today's sun is on a waning trail. The rapidly falling temperature agrees. My youngest son, Alex, has been snow boarding his heart out for hours. Good for him. Doing what he cherishes, pushing his edge on great snow. He loves returning to the cold white powder, to the speed and to the thrill that all of this offers. Not my bag of tea. But his way is not my way. I confess that there was a time that I wished it were. Not any longer. Life's too important to be spent trying to live up to someone else's expectations, or another's personal dream of self.

Autumn 2010. A message arrived from Joan-z Cirie. Her rquest, "What's your US mail address?". Our professional paths crossed mine in the late 1980's. A result of that crossing was that her brother, Jack, became a momentary colleague before his untimely death. I sent her a quick reply along with, "Why you ask?" To this she responded - "Because I'm sending you something." Days later a box waits in Petaluma's main post office. A note advises the contents are now mine for well-keeping, "Please do with these as you wish." Unwrapping the box I find: Jack's well-worn training garb, his aikido gi; then his small cherished Marine Corps emblem; and finally his old black three-ring binder. What to do? Follow Joan-z' instructions. So I search my heart. The gi and the emblem, I decide, ought go to a mutual friend. The notebook? It will remain under my stewardship. Yet as I write this today it sits and sits, and images come to me of days when I was very young. Then I would walk with my father in the Arizona desert searching for hidden treasure locked in stone. Mineral Creek, Wooly Wash, Hackberry Wash, Devil's Canyon were among the names of places where stone captured stories could be unlocked and told anew - stories and stones that formed millions of years ago. They exist in the present as fossils and sometimes as geodes. Geodes are formations that occur in sedimentary and certain

volcanic rock. On the outside geodes can appear rough and none-impressive. Stones that you might kick aside and walk right past. Crack open a geode and a treasure of crystal will reveal itself.

Last Week.

My friend, Estevan, informed me that he is re-reading Laurence Gonzales' "Deep Survival". This time his page turning will be effortful, i.e. more than for the sake of just reading something recommended. Now he is into the study and application of what he is finding. Estevan says he found relevance to the way he has been strategizing and acting - particularly when it comes to seeking safety where safety is an illusion. He related to me the incident that precipitated this re-reading. It was such a minor happening: an engine alert on his truck's instrument display triggering physical sensations inside his body that he immediately felt, sensations followed by a flood of automatic mental chatter. Whether one's insight comes from something minor or major - that's not what's important. What's important? Estevan recognized his own chain reactions and touched on something. His awareness shifted his action on the spot. With this his practices have altered. Is this what real learning is about? Hmmmm.

January 22. 7:50 a.m. A friend called. Someone I met five years ago while we both were serving Vantage Corporation in Xiolan, situated on the outskirts of Zhongshan, in China's Guangdong province. We have stayed in contact on and off over the years as both our lives have taken twists and turns. She needed to talk and she needed to be heard. I have two ears. So, I listened. No assessments. No evaluations. No suggestions. No fixing. No comparisons or stories of my own to offer. I just listened, and that alone helped - at least that's what she said. Relatively speaking distance is a thing of the imagination. Ninety- nine hundred miles can shrink to a few centimeters and years can shrink to a moment when we listen. A lifetime can be served when we are willing to simply listen for an hour or so. What is the foundation for service, if not listening? What is the foundation for friendship, if not listening? What is the foundation for education, if not listening? What is the foundation for leadership, if not listening? What is the foundation for any form of healthy relationship - business, international, cross-cultural, cross-generational, employee-employer, with customers, with clients, with vendors - if not listening? Are you hearing this? Are you listening?

January 22. A little while later. Today's the day I've picked to open up Jack Cirie's three ring binder and begin to uncover what this geode holds. There definitely are crystalline gems inside. George Leonard's "The Art of Loving Combat" (Esquire, May 1985); Tim Hose's "FIC Search for KI: Karate and Behavioral Kinesiology" (date unknown); Dr. John Painter's "Confused About Chi (1983); and on and on and on. Then the Ten Precepts of the Key Society (1979) expanded upon. There are notes covering different ways to test one's body learning. In the middle of this old black book sits an entire section of favorite quotes that Jack had accumulated over time. My page turning is slow. Time stops.

January 22nd 4:35pm. My mobile phone rings and I look up from the binder and glance at my watch. I've been here for over four hours. Alex is calling, "Hey Dad, what's up?" His voice, a stream of pulsing energy, is fully alive and he's about to start his final down the mountain, ending our three-day outing. We have a quick chat. Soon we'll head back to a

friend's home in Truckee for supper, then begin our drive home. I flip the phone closed and reflect on the life we've crammed into these last thirty-five hours. I gaze down at the In- Jack's-Binder-Quote staring back at me. It reads: "If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question." (Lilly Tomlin)

Many of Pappi's lessons came as we sat around evening campfires while he sipped boiled coffee from an old metal cup. One evening he told me he had once heard Fritz Perls' Ghestalt prayer. He said it had touched him so deeply that he had refashioned it for himself and someone special to his life. His eyes closed and his voice lowered. I pulled a pencil from my backpack and dictated.

~
"I am the person who I am
You are the person who you are
I have my life
You have your life

I do not live to meet your expectations
You do not live to meet my expectations
I walk my way of life
The same is true for you

I ask you to let me learn the lessons of my way
I promise you the same

On the road of life
If we are to meet
It will be beautiful

Whether our meeting
Is for a lifetime or only a moment,
Laughter or tears,
It will still be beautiful"
~
Pappi and I sat in silence for a long while after that.

(from the Life & Times of Pappi Conpelo)

Announcing The Newest Associates of Allied Ronin Rev. Francis Briers and Dr. Paul Marshall

2011-04-25T17:59:00.000-07:00

Rev. Francis Briers, Founder & Director, Fudoshin Development United Kingdom

Francis Briers, a workshop leader since 2000, serves in a variety of settings - public, corporate, organizational training and academic. His background includes performing arts, personal development, bodywork and martial arts. Holding third-degree black belt rank in Karate, his focus with clients integrates dynamic meditation with physical/structural integrity and moral integrity. Client results include: improved personal impact, reduced stress, heightened situational and individual awareness.

Francis received his Bachelors degree from Manchester Metropolitan University. He is an ordained Interfaith Minister. In October 2009 Francis became the first citizen of the United Kingdom certified to deliver the Samurai Game®, and is currently the only person living in the UK authorized to lead the simulation. He also holds certification in Appreciative Inquiry. His offers include group classes and one-on-one "Presence Coaching". He is known for his passion regarding spiritual development and the exploration of meaning and effectiveness in life. He makes his home in Brighton, United Kingdom with his wife and son.

To contact Francis Briers send email to revfrancis@wildmail.com or call +44 790 354 3018. Find Francis on Facebook at www.facebook.com/francis.briers and on Twitter at http://twitter.com/FudoshinPath

Paul R. Marshall, Ph.D., Principal, Concur Dispute Resolution Services Australia

Paul Marshall is a Charted Professional Engineer with experience in a broad range of areas. He is also a member of the Mediators Panel of the ADR Branch, Department of Justice and Attorney-General in Queensland, Australia. He received his Bachelors Degree in Chemical Engineering from the University of Massachusetts Amherst (1990), his Ph.D. from the Department of Chemical Engineering, University of Queensland (2000) and his Juris Doctor at the University Queensland (2006).

As Principal of Concur Dispute Resolution Services Paul focuses on facilitating change in corporate environments. His projects have included the development of compliance management systems with associated supporting processes, and as a facilitator in a series of workshops regarding environmental risks for assets in Australia and New Zealand. He delivers training sessions on communication and mediation skills - and has served community groups and NGO's as a mediator and facilitator.

In November 2009 Paul became the first citizen of Australia certified to deliver the Samurai Game®, and is currently the only person living in Australia authorized to lead the simulation. He has diverse interests - including: as a volunteer guide at the Queensland Art Gallery; as an ardent student of aikido; as a member and past Secretary of Sunnybank Theatre Group, Inc., where he has performed and directed. His frequent blogs appear at http://blog.thesamuraiguy.com.au. He makes his home in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia with his wife and two daughters.

To contact Paul Marshall send email to paul@cdrs.com.au , or call +07 3122 0551 or +07 0413 709 460. Find Paul on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/paul.robert and on Twitter at http://twitter.com/cdrs_paul

Slow Down. Feel. Practice. Pt 1

2010-11-15T06:03:00.000-08:00

Crouching next to the fire, Pappy Conpelo held a cup of coffee in his left hand. "The sad news is we are trapped by the very technology that was invented to liberate us. Video games become tomorrow's killing machines. On the whole the consequences of our actions no longer touch our muscle let alone our olfactory systems. At best, we are emotionally distant. We connect only on a temporary basis, and when we do we have no idea where the trajectory of our ill-conceived practices will take us. The samurai faced similar conditions, and they were not alone in history. You think we would learn. But then again, our schools rarely test for anything more than a regurgitation of names and dates and places. We study only to get a grade. But the real tests are not about achieving a score. Once you've made your mark, once you've obtained that desired income level and you own that certain car or have that dream home - then what? You think life is about success? Ha!"
(from The Life and Times of Pappy Conpelo)

Friday morning. October 1, 2010. San Francisco.

It's almost noon and time to board Flight 930. Again.

First boarding was yesterday. But four hours after settling into Seat 24H, an unsolved "mechanical" meant a few hundred of us headed off to overnight stays - sans baggage - courtesy of the airline. Security requires international flights retain already loaded luggage. We've returned now, our little neighborhood. Same folks. Same seats. Same clothes. What to do for the next twenty-four hours between in-flight movies, meals, snoozes, walking the aisles galley to galley, airport coffee shops, people watching and duty-free gazing?

My destination: Cairo via London. The mission: deliver a second round of leadership training at Alcatel-Lucent's new management school, dubbed "University", in the Mid East Africa region. My host, Mohamed El-Haw, is waiting. I'll meet him in time to shake off some of the jetlag and serve those assembled.

Mohamed is an intern, a candidate apprenticing for certification as a Samurai Game® facilitator. He will be the first Egyptian so certified. We met in 2006 in Amersfort, Ntherlands, then a year later at Ain El Sokhna, Egypt; both occasions for the AIESEC International President's Meeting. He, as part of the Egyptian contingency. I was the "external" leadership trainer for AIESEC's annual week-long event with 90 nations represented.

Recruited by Alcatel-Lucent, Mohamed El-Haw is now their Employee Learning Manager, MEA Region. Studious and Type-A, he sometimes gets ahead of himself. I relate. Last month he told me that he wanted me to bring three of the books about samurai or aikido for his study regarding the simulation. But he failed to get back to me about which three. And, in all fairness, I failed to call him back and ask.

Now on the way to the Gate 96, I stop at Pacific Gateway News for some hopeful shopping. Not one book about the samurai or a martial art. I do, however, find two of my otherwise favorite non-fictions: My Stoke of Insight (Jill Bolte Taylor) and Tuesdays With Morrie (Mitch Albom). Not only will these do - They Are Perfect!

A Saturday Morning. Summer 2006. Glendon Way, Petaluma.

It's a warm sunny day and I'm home from China. I stand out back of my tiny recently rented house. My last place (ten years on Daniel Drive) has been sold by the trust that owned it. I got word three weeks ago that I had to move. The pressing China trip gave me only forty-eight hours to scramble and locate another. Transitioning from 2,300 square feet of living space to 788 has been interesting, with two young sons under roof, each needing his own space, manage ongoing work, outfit the office into this cracker box.

This morning I hang laundry on a clothesline. A luxury not afforded on Daniel Drive. Luxury? Absolutely! Because I can linger in fresh air and meditate while dropping into a repetitive practice of pulling, stretching, hanging, clothes-pinning - each shirt, each pair of socks, every towel and every washcloth. ("The secret to a happy life," said Marcus Aurelius, "is all within yourself - in your way of thinking.") I slow my pace to attend item by item. My mind slows and attends thought by thought. Luxury. I won't use a dryer. Luxury. I recall (and somewhat relive) being a youngster, when backyard clotheslines were the drying technology-of-the-day. In those days our family clothesline was also the place dad stretched onto cloth strips of venison flesh, freshly cut to make jerky - the hardened dry nourishment we carried on our hunts.

My son Nick is rousting from bed. I ask him outside to introduce him to the clothesline; something he and a gazillion of his American generation have never witnessed. The wires and clothespins greet him as the screen door slaps shut. "Cool Dad. But, how does it work?"

I respond that yes, it is cool but - well - it actually doesn't do any 'work', though it is both effective and efficient at getting the job done. Nick cocks an eyebrow and speechlessly looks on. It will take a while for him to understand my meaning.

Friday mid-afternoon. Returning to October 1, 2010. Aboard UA flight 930

We've been airborne for some time, and arcing north over Midwestern US. Am taking in Tuesdays With Morrie a couple or three pages at a time. I've read it before. But you never know what was missed or forgotten. It's definitely worth reading again, before it becomes part of Mohamed's library. I'm on page 38.

One afternoon, I [Mitch] am complaining (to Morrie) about the confusion of my age, what is expected of me versus what I want for myself.

'Have I told you about the tension of opposites?' [Morrie] says.

The tension of opposites?

'Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn't. You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted.'

'A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle.'

Sounds like a wrestling match, I say.

'A wrestling match." He laughs. "Yes, you could describe life that way.'

So which side wins, I ask?

'Which side wins?'

He smiles at me, the crinkled eyes, the crooked teeth.

'Love wins. Love always wins.'

My eyes close. I drift back a week to my own September 25.

Saturday Morning. September 25, 2010. One week and a small lake ago.

I went fishing today. I have tons of things on my "to do" list. But today I went fishing.

Actually, I went watching and laughing. Granddaughters, Ava (she's 5) and Leia (she's 3) did the fishing. Well, actually, they did line tangling - which is just as much fun as fishing, maybe more. Grandson, Jack (he's 1), came too. He did mud balling.

Line Tangling. Swirling fishing poles in water, and stirring up weeds, branches and gunk, making wonderful messes. Followed by jumping up and down, and screaming "I got a bite!"

Mud Balling. Scurrying to the edge of the lake on legs new to walking. Find the biggest, most available patch of brown goo; plop down, roll around and become - well - a mud ball. Done repeatedly and with mindful practice (must be so to him, cuz he's one big giant smile) equals: mud balling.

Doesn't take a lot to have a great time. Pick up a stick along side a trail and it becomes anything you want it to be. Three poles, a few feet of mono-filament line - magic happens. Walk to a patch of abundantly water-soaked earth with plenty of weeds - Pure anti-bath! Add sandwiches, and, voila! Gravity and creativity do all the rest. You save some dinero otherwise spent on some have-to-have-had expensive micro-chipped-obsoleted-internetted-camerated-and-touchscreen-covered gizmo and you have some self-generated entertainment and amusement. And guess what - it will be remembered and loved forever. What could be better?

I imagine hearing someone's say that he has to check on some important email. And as I do images of Sir Kenneth Robinson float by as he (Sir Ken) admonishes us that something's killing creativity in our children. Google search "TED Talks and Kenneth Robinson" and watch something that will grab you good. But don't you dare do the viewing in lieu of Line Tangling and Mud Balling. Take time to do 'em both.

Friday evening. October 1, 2010. Still aboard UA #930

Somewhere over the Labrador Sea, off the coast of Greenland.

Just finished the in-flight film selection, "One Week". Netflick it. Not an action movie - so prepare to go slow. Canadian production. Young man. Discovers he doesn't have much time left. Decides to spend a week motorcycling across country. A quest to understand his life. Touching. My whimsical self-talk (given what I'm to be delivering in Egypt in a few days plus the book I'm reading that sits nearby), "Synchronistic - Eh? And me reading Tuesdays With Morrie, a few pages at a time. Eh." I'm now at page 84. Morrie is making a point about living to the fullest, and using his own soon-to-be-completed life as the example.

"Mitch," he said, laughing along, "even I don't know what 'spiritualdevelopment' really means. But I do know we're deficient in some way.We are too involved in materialistic things, and they don't satisfy us.The loving relationships we have, the universe around us, we take thesethings for granted."

He nodded toward the window with the sunshine streaming in. "You

see that? You can go out there, outside, anytime. You can run up and

down the block and go crazy. I can't do that. I can't go out. I can't run.

I can't be out there without fear of getting sick. But you know what?

I appreciate that window more than you do."

Appreciate it?

"Yes. I look out that window every day. I notice the change in the trees,

how strong the wind is blowing. It's as if I can see time actually passing

through that windowpane . Because I know my time is almost done,

I am drawn to nature like I'm seeing it for the first time."

I lean back and drift back - eyes closed - again to one week prior.

Back to Saturday. September 25. But, now it's a late post-fishing afternoon.

After all the fishing, mud balling, and line tangling I arrive home.

It's time for something on the never ending "to do" list: mow the lawn with a recently sharpened push mower. Push what? Push mower. Had it since long before moving to and then from the cracker box house on Glendon Way.

I'm in my front yard twenty minutes later. Job almost done. A faint voice over my left shoulder cuts above the clacking blades, "Hello. Excuse me. Hello? Helloooo!" I turn. There, across the street in neighbor Lynda's yard, stand five teenage girls - waving and grinning and curiously looking on. I stop.

Me: "Hi"

They, all together: "Hello"

"What are you doing?" asks the one who first spoke.

I look at the push mower and then back at them, "Mowing the lawn." They stare, somewhat aghast. Then turn to each other and start giggling. Then back at me. One sheepishly asks, "Can we come over and see?"

"Sure."

They skip across the street. Staring down at the ground at this antique contraption, they are totally baffled. No gas engine. No electric motor. No throttle. No powered wheels. What the heck?!?

"How does it work?" queries one.

"Well, you just --- ah, push it. Want to give it a try?"

In unison they jump up and down. "YES!" (no kidding this actually happened exactly the way I'm writing it) "OK," I say, "But (they are all barefoot) gotta keep your toes out of the way."

One grabs the handles and shoves. But mower budges not. Again she shoves. Still it stands - not one inch give. And then again; more of the same.

"Let me do it", demands another. Same. Then another. Then another. All the same. Finally, one gal gets it going. She's an instant heroine. Away she goes. Everyone else stands in awe and watches. Now they all suddenly want another go at it. I turn to the one who first managed to move it (she's now laughing like crazy) and ask, "Did you ever read the Adventures of Tom Sawyer?"

"Yes! We just read it as a summer assignment before starting the school year."

"So," I inquire, "who are you today? Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn? And whadaya think - should I charge you for mowing my lawn?"

They complete my work. All are laughing. Truly, a novel experience.

Push mowers. Cut the grass. Get good cardio workout. Create low carbon footprint. Meet neighbors. Look foolish? Maybe. Recall the genius of Mark Twain? Absolutely! What fun.

Saturday afternoon. October 2, 2010.

A soft morning landing and a nine-hour layover at London's Heathrow are now complete.

I'm aboard Egypt Air Flight 778. Fully loaded, we've been airborne for some time. Tuesdays With Morrie rests in the seat pouch. My microwaved meal has been delivered. The high tech touch screen video display on the seatback forward of me has at least fifteen options to chose from. I think, "Different airline, different films, I'll eat and watch."

(Continued in November's newsletter)

©Lance Giroux, October 2010

Slow Down. Feel. Practice.

2010-11-15T06:02:00.000-08:00

Papi set the cup down on a flat rock, shivered and extended his weathered hands above the flames. He turned and looked squarely thorough me. His piercing eyes alone could have spoken everything, but he wanted to ensure that he would be heard. His voice rose above a low whisper and he continued, "We have two sides of the brain, you know. Those who attend to only one side lose big time. We exercise neither our critical self nor our feeling self. And as for the body here in this country - it's become soft; almost a lost cause."

(from The Life and Times of Papi Conpelo)

[Continuing from October. Where were we?]

Saturday afternoon. October 2, 2010.

A soft morning landing and a nine-hour layover at London's Heathrow are now complete.

I'm aboard Egypt Air Flight 778. Fully loaded, we've been airborne for some time. Tuesdays With Morrie rests in the seat pouch. A microwaved meal has been delivered. The high tech touch screen video display on the seatback forward of me has at least fifteen options to chose from. I think, "Different airline, different films, I'll eat and watch a movie."

I reach for the earbuds. They fall to the floor. This being the last seat in the very rear of the aircraft, up against both window and rear bulkhead I'm stuck - too jammed in to move - no wiggle room to find them. What now? So I open my window cover and my jaw drops. There below me extends the broad expanse of the Italian Alps. The sun, dropping fast somewhere over my right shoulder, paints its way through clouds sending deep shadows to who knows where. All right here.

The scene is stunning. I've flown countless times above the Sierra Nevada. What's to be seen there is magnificent. But I've never witnessed anything this rough or steep, dropping so far and so fast. I sit transfixed above terrain I may never see again.

By 6:20 p.m. Flight 778 is 2,400 kilometers from Cairo and flying southeast over the Dolomite Mountains. We're due north of Venice and west northwest of Trieste. The Croatian coastline and the beaches stretch out below. Our route will take us to Pula, then Zadar, then Dubrovnik.

Cloud covered patterns float faintly over the Italian boot out my window. The jagged pattern of islands west of Krk appear. "You know," I tell myself, "I could be watching the in-flight movie right now. But why?" How many moments ago did the earbuds fall to my, "Aggghrrrh!". Yet, had that not happened all of this would have gone unseen and unfelt.

Saturday afternoon. November 6, 2010.

Sunny Oakland, California. Am arriving home from a week being with family of my friend, Mac. His life halted sixteen days ago. No one saw that coming.

Rain was falling hard when I left Seattle a few hours ago. That's behind me now, but it will catch me again tomorrow. The predictable weather patterns at this time of year inform this.

Mac's going gave us all pause: we who are family and friends.

How much time do you have? To look everyday and notice what's there and what's passed you by? Knowing this, how much time do you spend actively noticing? And then taking time to consider what all of this is teaching you? Ant then taking effective action on what you have noticed? Can you read the patterns of your practices? How about the patterns of our collective practices?

Tuesday. November 2, 2010.

U.S. mid-term election day. My vote has been cast.

Wednesday. November 3, 2010.

The elections are over; the ballots counted. Those elected speak. From both sides of the aisle we hear today. "What the American people want now is for us to roll up our sleeves and get to work." Wow! How many times have we heard that after an election? Isn't that what the public servants were supposed to be doing since the last election, i.e. get to work?

Thursday. November 4, 2010.

Lots of news today! Our print and electronic media is on the job to inform us that the 2012 election is already in progress and well underway. Oh well -- so much for getting to work.

A dose of cynicism grips me. The lyrics of "Patterns" (Simon and Garfunkle) come to mind. These words trumpet our continuing politics here. Don't remember? Never heard? Try http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/simon_garfunkel/patterns.html. Another cynical thought floats by - sometimes, we really do live inside The Truman Show.

Saturday evening. October 2, 2010.

Egypt Air Flight 778 has entered Yugoslavian airspace. Sunlight splits the western sky above Italy. Below the world is gray. We are over Korcula and on track for Titograd. Someone has paid me to write this, but they don't know it. What I mean is: I wouldn't be sitting here today had not someone footed the bill. Would I? What about you, where would you be today if someone had paid different prices in your regard?

Another time zone. Another time. Two and a half hours behind is London. What remains of sunlight is blue on a far horizon. Names once legends in books are within view. Delphi to the west, and to the southeast lies Marathon. I find myself wondering, "What would the Oracle say of our world today, the way we live and respond?" I think of the original marathoner - Pheidippides - the Athenian herald who was sent running one hundred fifty miles over two days to Sparta when the Persians landed at Marathon, and then ran another twenty-five miles to Athens to announce a Greek victory. Who goes the distance today? Not the distance of running, rather the distance of practiced conviction and perseverance? Where would we be today without the GPS and the mobile phone, the iPad and our Facebook - and "You've Got Mail" ??. If we lost electricity for two days nation wide? If we had to communicate beyond the exchange of data? If we truly had to rely on our senses? We walk a fragile line - yet we don't respect how fragile the line is. We take tomorrow for granted.

A Friday evening. January 1975.

I'm sitting in the top floor meeting room at the Travelodge in Honolulu attending a seminar. It's almost midnight. Art Theisen, a large robust man with round nose, receding hairline and deep voice, is telling a story with great feeling. He talks of himself being a young brash pilot at the end of World War II ferrying aircraft across Europe: C-47's - the military version of the DC-3. Most of his planes were empty of passengers. But on occasions, he says, a person of importance would hop a ride.

On the morning of this particular story he gets word that two passengers will be his responsibility as he ferries a plane inbound to Athens. They are Helen Keller and Polly Thompson. He greets them as they board. Then he moves forward, goes through his pre-flight checklist, taxies and takes off. The flight will last many hours, taking an entire day.

Somewhere in mid-flight Art needs to relieve himself, so he walks the rear of the aircraft where a toilet is located. On his way back to the cockpit he passes his guests, glances down to consider what a pitiful life Helen Keller must live - not being able to see or hear or talk. Then he gets back to the controls and settles in for a non-eventful remainder of the flight.

Some hours later while he's sitting somewhat bored, Art feels the pressure of a touch on his right shoulder. When he turns to see what the pressure is he finds Polly Thompson.

"Hello", he offers.

"Hi", she responds. Then she continues, "Helen, is enjoying the trip. She just asked me to come forward to let you know. She also asked me to say how wonderful it must be to see Athens, and that the city must be golden right now in the rays of the setting sun."

Theisen sits is aghast. He doesn't know what to say He turns his face forward to look out the front of the aircraft. There below him in plain sight as it has been for many minutes (had he been paying attention), sits Athens ablaze in the light of a setting sun.

In the seminar I sit, listening to Art Thiesen finish his story. He says, "It took a blind, deaf and mute person, to communicate to this arrogant all-seeing pilot, in a way that I could see the beauty of what was there all along and in a way that I could hear."

What am I doing with the equipment (talents, eyes, ears, legs, feet, brain, voice, etc.) that is mine to use on this journey?

Saturday evening. October 2, 2010. A short while later. Egypt Air flight 778.

My face is against the plexiglass. Below, the coastline of Greece defines the Aegean Sea. Athens' lights glow brightly outside my window. On this course Cairo is not long off. I sit quietly staring. "You know," I say to myself again, "I could be watching the in-flight movie right now." A whisper offers, "But why?"

"Who are you without your toys? Are you paying attention? Do you care for and take care of yourself -really? When all becomes silent, can you tolerate the sound of your own thoughts?" I sat speechless. Holding me in his steely gaze, Papi persisted, "I asked you a question. Where is your answer? We have become addicted to toys and outcomes. Discipline and integrity, imagination and artistry, service and seeing what is there to be seen - we better watch out or these will become lost or totally compromised. And if that happens-we're screwed."

(from The Life and Times of Papi Conpelo)

Perseverance (Pt II)

2010-08-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

Perseverance (continued)

It's been a long time comin'

It's goin' to be a Long Time Gone.

And it appears to be a long,Appears to be a long,Appears to be a long

Time, yes, a long, long, long ,long time before the dawn.

-David Crosby (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)

The written Japanese symbol for perseverance is formed by two kanji. One represents a knife and across its left side rests a line, indicating that it is a bladewhich cuts, i.e. a dagger. Beneath this knife stands a heart. The message? Thisheart, no matter how deeply penetrated by this dagger, will not stop beating.

(CONTINUING FROM JULY’S NEWSLETTER, the first half of which can be found atwww.AlliedRonin.blogspot.com)

July 3, 2010

Driving west on California’s Highway 880. It is 8:00 a.m. Pacific Daylight Timeand somewhere near Dixon, California. The sun is strong. The air, already warm, is beginning to dance its mirage. Last night I slept at son Nick’s apartment in Sacramento following a live stage performance of Shakespeare’s As You Like It curiously set in the 1960’s of an Orange County, California, forest, and with music. Music? (Nick, now quite the accomplished musician – piano, trumpet, xylophone, sousaphone, guitar, base, accordion - led the orchestra) Music is not the Shakespearian norm. But original songs written by Bare Naked Ladies, save one actual 60’s tune – My Green Tambourine – grace the stage. Wow – what a fun production, anything but ordinary - and great music. “That Shakespeare,” I ponder, “How long have his tales persevered?” More importantly, why have they persevered? And Nick? Wanted to quit the first day he tried trumpet as a young boy in the Petaluma youth band. But an understanding bandleader told him, “Give it another day, and let’s see what happens.” What kept Nick going for one more day?

This morning Highway 880 is my path home. Looking north I gaze across an expanse of field, hundreds acres or more of green whatever. What is that stuff, strawberries?And there smack in the midst of the field stands one man. Completely alone. At first I thought it was a scarecrow, but, nope – it’s a human being. No truck. No cart.No tractor. No bicycle. Nothing there but him. Not one other human being as far asmy eyes take me. He has a hoe in his hands and he’s working the field. He has onevery long day ahead of him. No matter what direction he turns or where he goes, the end of his work is a far off. There are no trees. There is no shade. Anyonewho’s traveled the Sacramento Valley this time of year knows that soon the air will be very hot. I wonder, “What keeps him going?”

My camera sits aside me. I should stop and take his picture, but I don’t. Something draws me on. I keep driving. I stare at him in the rear view mirrorand then, he’s gone - yet his image and that of the field remains. A thoughtreturns and whispers, “Take a picture!” I reply, “I did. It’s already inside me.”

Ten miles down the road other images appear – again inside me. Certain peoplewho inspire me. Each is dear to my life, each in his or her own way stands alonemidst their own vast expanses of projects, challenges, problems and issues. Land developer, retired school administrator, owner of a conglomerate of companies,a single mom raising two boys, a banker sans bank, a fire captain, a fellow whorents out audio/visual equipment for events, a builder of fine homes, an opsperson working in a financial planner’s office, a professor, a martial artist, a stategovernment employee, a general manager, a mechanic, a great grandmother, afellow in the tool and dye business. Each and every one of these people, over thepast three years has been slammed by the economy or health problems or by peoplewho once loved them. Each has had long moments of doubt and fear, or grief withlittle relief in sight. Yet, to a person, they move forward towards a good tomorrow. I wonder, as each face drifts through my mental workshop, “What keeps them going?”

July 4, 2010.

It’s another election day in Poland! How many will they have? And it is just two weeks now since I sat with Marta at Coffee Karma as the last election ground to ahalt. The margin is again slim, but Komorowski has been elected. I imagine howwe here in the U.S. would be if we had lost a president, a first lady, the two maincontenders for the presidency, the entire top echelon of the military leadership, aformer beloved president, many beloved clergy, and many members of congress –and then endure two unscheduled, but required, national elections within fifty-sixdays, complete with political rhetoric and in the midst of a global recession and withenormous political pressures on multiple surrounding borders. What would keep usgoing? The economy? Business as usual? There’s something more important thanthat. And could we, would we, engage in such an undertaking with the composure I witnessed in Krakow and Warsaw in April?

In 2003 when the film Touching the Void came onto the big screen George Leonardcalled to tell me that I had to see it, saying, “It’s the most powerful story of thehuman spirit I have ever seen.” I went that night to the theater. A true story.Simon Yates and Joe Simpson climb Peru’s Siula Grande. On the way down, Simpson falls and breaks his leg. Yate’s decides to risk bringing him back alive bylowering him. But then one disaster becomes another. Yate’s is forced to make afateful decision. He cuts the rope, sending Simpson to certain death. And then?Nah – why spoil it for you? Leonard was right - “It’s the most powerful story of the human spirit I have ever seen.” Rent it. See it yourself. You’ll find yourselfasking, “What kept them going?”

June 22, 2010 (reflecting back now some weeks)

Seat 37 A is mine, right next to a window on this Boeing 767. Not my requestedseat. I wanted the aisle. Yet, here I’m assigned. The gate agent informed mean hour ago, “Nothing can be done to change assigned seats.” (and she didn’teven add “sorry about that”) I surrender into my space and look through thein-flight magazine. It’s going to be a long twelve-hour flight from Frankfurtaboard today’s totally full plane. What films will I watch to occupy my journey?

Now airborne I reach to turn on the video system, and wouldn’t you know it -- ofthe hundreds of seats on this aircraft, two have malfunctioning video systems - 37 Aand 37 B. Up the aisle a passenger’s screen lights up. Morgan Freeman greets Matt Damon. The story of Nelson Mandela’s election to office (another election!) unfolds into the recent Invictus. What kept Mandela going? In prison. After the election? Hmmm.

Words my sixth-grade teacher required us to memorize float intomy consciousness.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as a pit from pole to pole,

I thanks whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,

I have not winced nor cried aloud

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody but unbowed.
I close my eyes.

Seat 37 A. Such a minor inconvenience. Certainly it is not a night that is coveringme nor is it a pit from pole to pole. But I have had those kinds of nights, and I haveventured deep into the pits. You too?

July 19, 2010.

Seattle. I arrived home from Egypt two days ago. Yet, here I am driving up I-5 through crowded traffic to Montlake Boulevard where sits the University of Washington Medical Center. I need to spend time with my friend John Pace before I hop a flight back home. Too many time zones the past few weeks, and I miss my exit. I call John, “Sorry. I got lost. I’ll be right there.” He’s waiting patiently for me. Not as a patient, but as a visitor himself. And who is John visiting? Her name is Rashmi. She, a doctor and his bride of many decades, is now a patient. He’s been visiting her daily from morning until late at night for over four weeks now, while she’s been here in a mostly non-conscious state surrounded by tubes and probes andmachines and attendants. Things look bleak.

After a while, John and I walk from her room to the coffee shop to spend an hour alone together. What do you talk of at a time like this? Things? Life? Memories?Love? Rashmi. Yep. All of that, and aircraft, too. John’s an engineer and a private pilot. We’ve done some flying together. He’s tired, but far from being too tired to talk of planes. How much hope is there in the world? Who knows? How much love is there in John for Rashmi? More than can fill this hospital, that’s for sure.

Somewhere in the midst of our conversation he offers, “You know, hospitals are interesting places to study people. In the morning you can read hope and good wishes in the way they carry their bodies. By evening their energy is drained, and you can see that too. When I first brought Rashmi me here I would read and work sudoku to pass the time. But that got old and boring. Doing nothing takes a lot of energy. Now my days are full. I have all day, every day, seven days a week, to wish good things, to pour ‘white light’ on all these people – the sick, the nurses, the doctors, the workers. They don’t know I’m doing that, but that’s what I do.” I look in his eyes. He’s tired. But not too tired to love. He tells me that of his favorite quotes is from Winston Churchill “Never give in--never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense.” What keeps John Pace going?

July 22, 2010.

It’s early morning. Petaluma is at sixty degrees Fahrenheit with fog, odd for late July. I’m home watering new grass that was but seed five weeks ago when an airplane took me from Vienna to Warsaw and Karma Coffee on ul. Zbawiciela. I fumble in my pocket for my phone. Gotta call Ray and Bettsy. Ray’s cell phone prompt speaks, “At the tone please leave your message.” I’ve been trying to reach Ray Crawford almost daily and getting the same thing. It’s an important time to check in with him. He’s a West Point class/company mate and best friend of mine.A groomsman at my wedding in ‘72. Not long after that the first born of both our broods popped into the world – exactly twenty days apart. Hilary, theirs. A July baby, she grew through some tough times as a young woman and became, by her early thirties, a great mom and a nurse. Peter, mine. A June baby, he grew through some wild times with Russian friends, studying everything Russian, including Stolichnaya, to become by his early thirties, a great dad and a financial adviser. Ray and Bettsy and I have stayed in contact across continents no matter what – including pain. The past ten days are cloud covered. Not the physical airborne Petaluma fogkind.

Ray didn’t answer so I call Bettsy. Their house phone rings. “Hi Betts.” “Hey, Lance, how are you?” “OK -- but that’s my question for you, ya know.” Long pause. She talks. I listen. And of what does she talk speak? Hanging in there. Pain. Loving your kids. Dealing with disappointment. Anger. Loving the guy or gal in your life (Rays pecifically) even if you don’t at times agree with them. Loving life itself even when you don’t like what it has to offer. Listening. Seeing the best in others. Trusting.Coping.

Twelve months ago this past week Ray and Bettsy lost Hilary. A former boyfriend took her life, and then he decided to make it his own last day too. The kind of “shots fired” horror story you see as “live breaking news” on CNN. A young nurse from McLean, Virginia, that you’ll never know or meet. Swat teams. Police barriers.Cordoned off streets. Ambulances. Twenty-four-hour standoff. Life support system. Hostage negotiating team. Horrible. Sad. Surreal. On CSI it’s fiction. But fiction this wasn’t. When it’s real like this, we find ourselves (at least I did on July 14, 2009) saying, “This can’t be true!”

Bettsy continues. “You know what?” “What?” I ask. “Hilary was someone who really could hang in there.” “Tell me.” “She wanted to be a nurse and in her early thirties finally made it through nursing school, and then she failed the stateboard exams. I may have stopped right there, and so would many others. But she wouldn’t give up. She took the boards again and failed, and again and failed, and again. She hung with it - kept taking the test.” Then she added, “I still have her entire voicemail on my mobile phone after he last test.” “What did she say?” I queried. “Just two words: ‘I passed.’ And then hung up.” Sweet.

Ray Crawford and Bettsy Reckmeyer. They were so much unlike each other when they met in 1970. They still are. They started as friends. They became lovers. They got married. They’ve had some incredibly good times. They’ve had some unbelievable bad times. The past twelve months have been a rough go, and the crappy economy doesn’t even come close. What keeps them going?

What keeps you going? In the face of the adversity? It’s worth remembering what that is from time to time.I’m not talking about the keeping going that is blindly obsessive, or the keepinggoing that is some memorized motivational jargon. Rather, the stuff that’s truly inthere. The Constructive Why upon which you stake your existence.

Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,you sing. For no reason, you acceptthe way of being lost, cutting loose from all else and electing a world where you go where you want to.

Arbitrary, a sound comes, a reminder that a steady center is holding all else. If you listen, that sound will tell you where it is and you can slide your way past trouble.

Certain twisted monsters always bar the path -- but that's when you get going best, glad to be lost,learning how real it ishere on earth, again and again.

Do I feel like quitting now and then? Oh, yea. Then someone or something showsup to remind me: small actions coupled with good reasons really do matter. Thesereasons and actions create stories, sometimes legends, that sustain us.

July 23, 2010.

My body is tired but vibrantly pulsing and alive. I lie flat face up on the Two Rock aikido dojo mat. It’s 7:30 pm. Different people, most younger than me, have been throwing me around this room for well over an hour. Time for class to end. Richard, my sensei and friend, tells us, “Lay down. Take a full breath, and as you let it out close your eyes and feel your body relax into the floor.” The twenty-some of us here this evening take this moment to reflect. Soon we will leave and go our separateways – to be alone or with family or lovers. Richard holds a piece of paper and,as he often does, begins to read a poem. Tonight’s meditation? William Stafford’s Cutting Loose.

My eyes are closed. My breath is slow. A soft voice deep within whispers, “Perseverance. The heart cut by a dagger, yet it continues to beat.”

Perseverance

2010-07-20T07:48:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time comin'It's goin' to be a Long Time Gone.And it appears to be a long,Appears to be a long,Appears to be a longTime, yes, a long, long, long ,long time before the dawn.-David Crosby (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)

PERSEVERANCE

Do you ever feel like quitting?

The written Japanese symbol for perseverance is formed by two kanji. One represents a knife and across its left side rests a line, indicating that it is a blade which cuts, i.e. a dagger. Beneath this knife stands a heart. The message? This heart, no matter how deeply penetrated by this dagger, will not stop beating. This is perseverance.

June 7, 2010.

It is the day after mid-term elections here in the U.S. I've known my friend John since we were both 18. Today he is an attorney and senior partner of a Santa Cruz law firm. He has sought appointment to the superior court bench before. But appointments, for one reason or another, have eluded him. And so eighteen months ago John undertook, from my perspective, a most un-John thing and decided to enter the election and run for judge.

When he entered the race I thought, "He must be nuts." But he's not nuts. What approach did he decide on as the best way to bid for office? Just be the self that he is. Then, work diligently, tell the truth softly and clearly. Meet as many people as possible. Tell them who he is and promise to be honest. [Being honest is not a hard promise because I don't know a more honest person than John.] Go to a lot of meetings. Shake a lot of hands. Lick a lot of envelopes [He did - I know - I licked a few along side of him and Peg, his bride]. Paste a lot of stamps. Ask his friends for their support knowing that whatever each would say (yes or no) he would gladly accept their answer - and continue on. And then at the end of every long day along the campaign trail, let the chips fall where they may, then get up and do it again until election day. And then - let the chips fall where they may.

Election day approached and I heard that his opponents began to ratchet up the rhetoric. "He's too quiet." "He won't be tough on crime." When the voices of negative campaigning grew louder, what did John do? He relaxed under the pressure. He stayed positive, pointed to his record as a long-time civil litigator and with his share of before-the-bench-criminal-law too. He spoke clearly from his years ago experience as a public defender squarely grounding because he knows both sides of the system. He stated facts that show him to be someone who understands the law and who sincerely believes in a person's innocence until proven otherwise before an impartial judge and a jury of peers.

His opponents criticized him more for being too nice a guy. And John? He continued to quietly point to his record, said he would be fair, then licked more envelopes and pasted on more stamps. He walked county streets and neighborhoods. He knocked door-to-door, shook hands, introduced himself to average persons. He asked for donations and support, knowing that both "yes" and "no" were valid options. He told his story and went to more meetings, spoke his mind and listened to more people. Though I did not hear what I'm about to write, I have a mind to believe that he probably never once told anyone, "You'll be sorry if you vote for one of my opponents." Why? In my experience he doesn't lay guilt trips on people. Think about that for a moment - a man running for judge who doesn't evoke guilt trips.

Today, June 7, the election is over. I call John to say hi because for more than one reason this is a special day. This day, thirty-eight years ago, was our last day as roommates. Then we stood near each other in Michie Stadium and tossed high our white hats, ending a four year walk, run, dodge, jump and crawl through a maze known as West Point. But today I can't get a hold of him, and have to leave a message. He is wiped out, drained and tired - but not defeated. Elected by a huge margin, 53% of the vote going to him, 23% to the nearest competitor. But wait - I find out that all the votes won't be counted for some days because of some kind of election anomaly. Will John Gallagher finally sit on the beach or will he have to wade through a November run-off? The law of averages says, he's won. But you never know until the vote is actually counted. One might wonder, what keeps him going?

June 21, 2010.

At 7:18 p.m. I sit on a wood chair at Coffee Karma on the circle at ul. Zbawiciela, Warsaw, Poland. Three years have passed since Marta Bruske and I shared our last in-person conversation. Then it was in Ustron, on the Wisla River not far from the point at which Poland, Austria and Slovakia confluence. Then, Marta was president of AIESEC Poland. Along with Zolt Toth (Hungary's president) and Ivan Melay (Slovakia's president) Marta was responsible for bringing me to Eastern Europe and introducing embodied education to hundreds of young leaders through the play of the Samurai Game®. She's recently completed an internship in London. A vibrant city, she admits, but a place of aloneness in a sea of people. Now home, she is happy to be working with a few visionaries, growing a small business and faced with a lot of challenges.

Who knows when our paths will again cross. We seize a moment and meet. Our conversation unfolds into a meandering of memories. Stories from the Netherlands to the Red Sea to a crazy train ride through Katowice. We both want to know, "What have you been up to?" "What do you hear from Gabitza?" "Do you remember Irina Rusueva?" "Yes!" "How is she?" Eventually we arrive at today's news. We are less than forty-eight hours on the other side of an election here in Poland thrust upon this nation because one man's hand pulled back an aircraft throttle rather than push forward on it. As a result of that one move, two months ago, a Soviet-era Tupolev jet surrounded by fog clipped a tree, flipped upside down and slammed to Earth just outside Smolensk, Russia. Poland's president Lech Kaczynski and ninety-five others perished instantly.

Today, Kaczynski's twin brother a former Prime Minister, Jaroslaw, and Bronislaw Komorowski, the acting president and parliamentary speaker, have each narrowly missed achieving a majority vote. They and the country must now endure a runoff in fourteen days. Poland's future remains undecided by a very slim margin. How odd it feels to be here, given that just fifty-six days ago I witnessed firsthand the aftermath of the Smolensk tragedy, the resultant state funeral in Krakow, where I stood for hours along side hundreds of thousands of mourners. April feels like last night.

Marta is curious as to my feelings for Poland now after many visits. I let her know that my overwhelming learning over the past three years regarding this place is that no matter what the country and it's people have endured, Poland seems to never quit. Wiped off the map by numerous conquerors over the centuries. Completely devastated during World War II, e.g. Warsaw left with only 4% of its buildings higher than a few inches off the ground. Then absorbed into the Soviet Union. But this nation and these people keep coming back. Always Poland. Always Polish. Always returning to be free. Something in the spirit here and over the generations of time just will not quit. These people persevere.

July 3, 2010

Driving west on California's Highway 880. It is 8:00 a.m. Pacific Daylight Time and somewhere near Dixon, California. The sun is strong. The air, already warm, is beginning to dance its mirage. Last night I slept at ....

(to be continued)

Remembrances for a Memorial Day 2010

2010-06-05T09:27:00.001-07:00

With his back stiff against the dry adobe wall, Papi Conpelo lowered his tired body to the earth. He raised his exhausted knees to his chest, sat and rested. His eyes steadied into a faraway stare. Shimmering mirages caused by the day's heat still hung over the deserted roads but even the mirages and their effects were beginning to relax and dissipate. "Well mi hijo, words are powerful things." he offered to the curious lad dropping down beside him, "Some people use them to heal long-standing wars, wars of ideas, wars of money and power, wars whose reasons for being have long died yet the wars continue. That's not easy, but when words heal they bring others together. Those people who do this, they know the way of being human. They serve a great good. However, some people use words to divide in an effort to serve ideologies blurred by time. They have lost touch with the true origin of their beliefs, and to survive they invent a continuing string of reasons to keep the ideology alive. They think they know, but maybe they're just guessing. Maybe it's because they have win or control or just mess with people. Maybe it's because they feel alone and this cures to their loneliness for a while. Maybe they are just lost. And some people," he paused and sighed, "- well some people don't use words at all. They are used by the words of others. Que triste."

(excerpt from the Life and Times of Papi Conpelo)

May 31, 2010 @ 6 a. m. PDT. I wake at sunrise, the sky's light slowly changing. It is Memorial Day, a day to remember those who served and who now are gone. I worked in my yard yesterday, beginning to plant seed for a new lawn needed to cover barren ground out back. This morning I will continue a short while. I decide this planting will be my morning meditation.

One hour later. Midst my task - digging earth, scattering fertilizer and seed - I hear the bell-in-tower-across-town as it tolls "seven". Palm trees, plum trees, citrus trees and Japanese maple grace my yard. The leaves and fronds are green, yet as with people, shades differ. The sounding bell reminds me I have only a short time to do what I am here for before visiting the memorial park as I did one year ago today.

Memorialize - me·mo·ri·ize - verb [trans.]
Preserve the memory of; commemorate:
the novel memorialized their childhood summers.

I think of my dad.

Robert O. Giroux. Born September 21, 1921. Graduated Prescott High School. Then attended Tempe Normal School, now called Arizona State University. Dropped out to join the Army in December 1941 after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Enlisted as a horse soldier, but graduated Officer Candidate School (OCS) and entered into the Army of the U.S. as combat engineer assigned to the 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division. Saw combat in two very historic battles: Kasserine Pass in North Africa (1943) and the Casino in Italy (1944). Received the Purple Heart for wounds suffered in combat. Honorably and medically discharged. Rehabilitated and learned to walk again. Worked as disk jockey for KYCA Radio, Prescott. Met his sweetheart, Caroline, before shipping out to Africa and Europe for the fight. Married her on his return. Together they traded labor for rent of a chicken coop in Tucson. They cleaned out the chicken manure, rebuilt walls, scrubbed floors, and converted it into their first home.

May 28, 2010 - The Memorial Day weekend begins. I receive email from dear friend, a former colleague and decorated retired US Army Special Forces Lieutenant Colonel, who saw combat in SE Asia.

My friend, a patriotic American and perhaps feeling especially sensitive at time of the year, is passing this email long to me (and others) - email that someone has likewise passed along to him. The title: "I'LL BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS IN THE NEWSPAPER OR ON THE 6 O'CLOCK NEWS." It contains the story is of Navy SEAL Mike Monsoor, a petty officer second class. Monsoor posthumously received the Congressional Medal of Honor (CMH) for falling onto a grenade in Iraq, thus saving others from certain death. The words are powerfully stirring. Yet, as I read the details a feeling of skepticism swells inside of me. I begin to wonder and question the motivation behind the email's initial dispatch. No, I'm not questioning my friend. He is above reproach. Rather I am questioning whomever it was that initially sent this piece out. My wonder grows as I take in the last few lines from the originating author (whose name is nowhere to be found). The email ends with this:

"This should be front-page news! Instead of the garbage we listen to and see every day. Here's a good idea! Since the mainstream media won't make this news then we choose to make it news by forwarding it. I am proud of all the branches of our military. If you are proud too, please pass this e-mail on. If not, then delete this e-mail. But rest assured, that the fine men and women of our military will continue to serve and protect your freedom and right to do so! GOD BLESS AND KEEP OUR TROOPS SAFE."

My guilt button has been poked.

If delete this email, then the author's words imply that I am not proud of the military, and I'll feel like scum. "What's the deal here?" I wonder. The honorable men and women who I served with when I was in the Army were quiet types and did not have the need to lay this kind of trip on anyone. So I go back and read the email again -- this time more slowly. The specifics and buzzwords continue to grab my attention. They float to the surface like so much unnecessary stuff in a punchbowl.

The email says that Monsoor died September 29th, 2009, and was awarded the CMS "last week." It indicates that his military specialty and rank was "Explosive Ordinance Disposal (EOD), Second Class". It says that his funeral was honored by the attendance of "Every Navy Seal - 45 to be exact - that Mike Monsoor saved that day." According to the email those forty-five men attended his funeral and removed their gold trident SEAL pins from their uniforms and slapped them hard onto the rosewood casket embedding each as the casket passed by. The email takes a step further and includes a picture of a trident-covered coffin. It further declared, "It was said, that you could hear each of the 45 slaps from across the cemetery! By the time the rosewood casket reached the grave site, it looked as though it had a gold inlay from the 45 trident pins that lined the top!"

My skepticism gets the better of me and I do some research which produces the following:

Yes, Monsoor gave his life, but it was September 26, 2006 (not 2009 as the email declared).

Yes, Monsoor was a Petty Officer, Second Class - but not EOD.

Yes, Monsoor's action saved the lives of his fellow SEALS by falling on a grenade, but the number he saved was three, not forty-five.

On April 8, 2008, Monsoor was posthumously awarded the CMH - not "last week."

The coffin pictured in the email is actually believed to be that of Navy SEAL James Suh who died in Afghanistan in 2005.

So I craft a message back to my old colleague and friend. Time to inform him of the above and ask if he has any idea why someone would distribute such an email to us (him and me and others) with the need to change the story and fill it with inaccuracies and embellishments. Mike Monsoor certainly should be honored. Anyone who falls on a grenade or takes a bullet for his or her fellow human being is a hero. If, however, someone deliberately used Mike Monsoor's story & death, and monkey-ed with it, then that person has dishonored Monsoor and made mockery of all those who have served. That person has likewise dishonored those who have fathered and mothered, brother-ed and sister-ed, uncle-ed and aunt-ed and cousin-ed those who for generations have worn uniforms here and around the world.

I conclude my note back to my friend with:

This weekend and on Memorial Day I'm remembering you and those who gave their lives, and am wishing you and all of your comrades (and mine), living and passed, all the best and thanking you for the great service you gave to our country and to me and my children and grandchildren. When I swore in July 1, 1968, I thought that I would be fighting in a war. But I never had to step into combat or harms way. We both know that for this I am fortunate. Thank you for what you gave.

If I have made any mistakes in my research then I accept responsibility for that, and I'll do a better job next time, and I sincerely apologize. If you feel it is worth passing my message back up the same chain through whoever passed it on to you so it reaches its source and then that source can know that someone is watching - and then stand corrected, then please do. I wish people would stop using the death of our brave soldiers, sailors, airmen/women, marines, coastguardsmen, etc., to create divisiveness in our country by inaccurately implying certain people are not respectful of our military men and women, or the notion that we do in fact need a strong military to keep our country and our people safe from those who wish us ill.

May 31, 2010. It is now 11:45a.m. PDT. I walk away from the cemetery overlooking Petaluma. This year's Memorial Day services are complete. Around me stand a few hundred people: moms and dads, grandparents and kids, brothers and sisters, old friends and comrades and once-upon-a-time neighbors. Different races, different religions, different ages - every color of skin. The Stars and Stripes is not the only flag adorning the sky. Wow! Flowers are laid. Taps is played. I ask myself what have we learned -really? As the few hundred of us there begin our walks home Bob Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind" fills the air.

Memorial - me·mo·ri·al - noun
1 something, esp. a structure, established to remind people of a person or event
· [as adj.] intended to commemorate someone or something:
2 chiefly historical a statement of facts, esp. as the basis of a petition

Memories of my father return.
My thought-byte obituary of my father continues.

- - - married his sweetheart, Caroline. Together they moved into a run-down chicken coop in Tucson, cleaned it out and made it their home. He went back to college and graduated the University of Arizona's school of mines. Worked decades as a mining engineer - mostly for Kennecott Copper Company's in the Ray Mine. Probable best Army buddy: a soldier named Mike Bellinski (sic). Probably best civilian buddies: two mine employees, Wally Taylor and Melvin Hawman. His four favorite songs: (1) Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, (2) Deep Purple, (3) Show Me The Way To Go Home,(4) Old Soldiers Never Die They Just Fade Away. Succumbed and died October 15, 1981 to injuries sustained in combat thirty-seven years earlier, injuries that included massive scarring - some of which were magnified by pre-existing conditions sustained during childhood. None of his scars could be physically seen, yet all of his scars were felt and observed.

May 31, 2010. 3:45pm. I finish a meeting and conversation with my friend and long-time Petaluma resident, Randy Cheek. I'm sitting alone at Peet's Coffee shop. I pick up a newspaper, open it and read a story that has unfolded this past month regarding two individuals running for the US Senate. If elected each will have a strong voice regarding how our nation's treasure will be spent, and how young Americans will fare when sent into harms way. These office seekers are from opposing political parties. Over the past few days both of these men have had to find ways to excuse remarks they have made regarding their individual military service. One, a Democrat, said that he served in Viet Nam. Fact - he did not. The other, a Republican, said he once received a specific prestigious military award. Fact - he did not. Each uses or implies the words "I misspoke" as his excuse.

Question. Why did they embellish their record with these untruths?

These two guys lied. They would be better served, and so would we, if they would just fess up and use exact language on themselves; then drop out of their respective Senate races, and save us the future bother, time, energy and money.

Remember this: we are all subject to influence of words.
What words influence you? Who speaks or once spoke them? For the sake of what purpose were these words spoken, honestly?
How is that influence benefiting you and others?
What is that influence costing you and others?
Who and what are you influencing by your words?
For how long and for the sake of what purpose?

Writing on his experiences as a lawyer

"I had learnt to find out the better side of human nature and to enter men's hearts. I realized that the true function of a lawyer was to unite parties riven asunder. The lesson was so indelibly burnt into me that a large p[art of my time during the twenty years of my practice as a lawyer was occupied in bringing about private compromises of hundreds of cases. I lost nothing thereby - not even money, certainly not my soul"

- Mohandas K. Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments with Truth, p 134. (1927)

17 Days in April- Reflections on Life's Fragileness

2010-05-07T19:04:00.000-07:00

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe the horse was lost.

For want of a horse the rider was lost.

For want of a rider the battle was lost.

For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Though we may want to live in the illusions of certainty and perpetual strength, the guarantees of relationships and fortunes lasting forever, we actually live quite temporarily on the fragile edge of life - and more than we sometimes acknowledge. We can demand entitlement, but entitlement, as with certainty and guarantee, is an illusion. The reality is, life is fragile. It changes in a moment with simple decisions. It's as fragile as the thin crust that covers the molten raw energy churning just below the earth's surface. Life's simple preciousness and profoundness happens each day, and often without predictability.

April 7, 2010. I leave Petaluma on schedule. The plan: fly to the Netherlands to deliver the Samurai Game® (April 10-11) for The Avalon Group, then proceed to Poland April 12 - 19 to deliver it three times there for clients of Aiki Management.

April 10, 2010. It is 8:00 pm in Utrecht. I've been here two days. Like the buses and trains I've taken into the city to see the sights, everything has proceeded neatly, as predicted. I walk into my hotel room now that today's work is complete. The class began this morning and has fully occupied my attention. It's over for the evening. The people are on their way home or back to their hotel rooms following a richly rewarding experience regarding the vividness of life played out through our workshop. Per usual most of them "died" during the play - all symbolic of course - kind of like being "red flagged" during a soccer match. Tomorrow we will reconvene to talk and share our lessons learned. I sit at my desk, open my laptop, and begin to read today's news, about which until this moment I am unaware:

Polish president among 96 killed in plane crash

SMOLENSK, Russia, April 10 (Reuters) - Poland's President Lech Kaczynski, its central bank head and the country's military chief were among 96 people killed when their plane crashed in thick fog on its approach to a Russian airport on Saturday.

The president's wife and several other high-ranking government officials were also aboard the Tupolev Tu-154 that plunged into a forest about two km (1.3 miles) from the airport in the western Russian city of Smolensk.

"The political consequences will be long-term and possibly will change the entire future landscape of Polish politics," said Jacek Wasilewski, professor at the Higher School of Social Psychology in Warsaw.

Polish government spokesman Pawel Gras said the country would hold elections after the death of Kaczynski, who was 60 and had been president since 2005.

"In line with the constitution, we will have to hold an early presidential poll," Gras said. "For now, the speaker of the lower house of parliament, Bronislaw Komorowski, is automatically ... the acting president."

Russian television showed the smouldering fuselage and fragments of the plane scattered in a forest. A Reuters reporter saw a broken wing some distance from the rest of the aircraft.

Russia's Emergencies Ministry said 96 people were aboard the government plane, including 88 members of a Polish delegation en route to commemorate Poles killed in mass murders in the town of Katyn under orders from Soviet leader Josef Stalin in 1940.

Twenty minutes later. I open my email account to find a message waiting from my colleague, Pawel Olesiak in Krakow, Poland. I am to travel there day-after-tomorrow to conduct three similar programs with him. I read his words:

Hi Lance, I'm very sorry to tell that, because of today tragedy of Poland: death of Polish president and 86 government people and Polish national deep mourning we have decided to cancel the Samurai game in this week. Any way we are waiting for you. On Monday we'll inform all of participants. Very, very sad Pawel

April 12, 2010. I arrive Krakow. The weather is forecast to be partly sunny looks to turn otherwise. I take a bus to the RELAX Pensjonat B&B, unpack and walk to the "Any Time" restaurant and I enjoy dinner. I take along a book, "Horse Soldiers", a true accounting of life's unpredictability in midst of intensity and change.

April 13, 2010. It is 10:00 a.m. Pawel Bernas, long-time friend and partner of Pawel Olesiak, arrives at the RELAX. "All work has been cancelled," he says. "Life is hard. But we are still alive. Let's enjoy what little time we have together."

April 14, 2010. Krakow. The past two days have been low key. We visited historic places, ancient fields and fortresses warred over for a thousand years. There is deep mourning. Conversations are quiet. All theaters are closed. Sports events cancelled. Regardless, we do train a lot of aikido. Poland is an interesting place: young people stand up on crowded busses to offer their seats to older folks; the cemeteries are full of flowers even on non-holidays; the economy is surprisingly vibrant and I'm told it's because Poland was a bit behind the rest of the world when financial crisis hit, so they came back quicker; people of all ages appear in great physical shape - biking, roller-blading, walking and running throughout the parks; cars are racy and small and efficient; mass transit is everywhere available; people freely offer help when and where needed; towns are a blend of the very new and the very old.

Today there is sadness. Except for movies of historical significance, TV stations are broadcasting almost nothing but news of the tragedy and aftermath. Reporters, news anchors, weather forecasters - all wear black - black suits, black ties, black dresses, black bows, black stockings. The clear message, though non-verbal: stop, reflect, and think. On Saturday, three days from now, the largest gathering of world leaders to visit Poland in the last few hundred years will descend on Warsaw. On Sunday their delegations will migrate to Krakow. A great sense of togetherness abounds amongst the Polish people not only with their countrymen, but also with the world at large. The wind seems to whisper, "We are not alone." And, there is excitement that the president of Poland's firm ally, the US, is guaranteed to be here.

There is word regarding the cause of the April 10^th fatal crash. Smolensk air traffic controllers had told the pilot to not land. The Polish president did not want to be late to the ceremonies commemorating the Katyn killings - an historic event they were arriving so as to receive an official apology from Russia for the killing of 22,000 Polish military officers some seventy years prior. Whether the Polish president ordered his pilot to disregard air traffic controllers to not land, or whether the pilot, feeling pressure from within, took it upon himself to land, I don't know today. But the plane crashed because a rushed decision was made in the midst of fog.

Other news - I hear that a volcano is erupting in Iceland.

April 15, 2010. Yesterday early evening I heard Ronn Owens' KGO Radio 810 morning show (Oakland, San Francisco, San Jose) streaming live over the Internet. This morning I turn on Gene Burns, also KGO, doing his evening show and discussing "issues of the day." I don't remember either of them saying much if anything regarding the historical significance of events consuming most of Europe the last few days. But, I listen because on Monday, the 19^th I will travel home. I open my laptop for today's electronic copy:

(Reuters) - A volcanic eruption in Iceland, which has thrown up a 6-km (3.7 mile) high plume of ash and disrupted air traffic across northern Europe, has grown more intense, an expert said on Thursday.

The eruption under the Eyjafjallajokull glacier continued to spew large amounts of ash and smoke into the air and showed no signs of abating after 40 hours of activity, said Pall Einarsson, a geophysicist at the University of Iceland.

The cloud of ash from the eruption has hit air travel all over northern Europe, with flights grounded or diverted due to the risk of engine damage from sucking in particles of ash from the volcanic cloud.

"I guess that means my plane, too." Then I notice email from my travel agent informing me that my flight set for April 19^th is cancelled and that the earliest flight available for my return to the US is now April 24, that is - if the skies allow.

April 17, 2010. I turn 60.

I decide to spend morning feeling the fullness of life as it pulses through the oldest parts of Krakow - a city now in full preparation for tomorrow's state funeral and burial honoring the country's president and first lady. I grab my camera (lest I forget what is here to be witnessed) and begin a long walk. Hundreds of thousands of people are arriving. Lines are forming to special locations where tickets are available for those who will want to view the ceremonies telecast from near the Wawel. Police are everywhere. Large tractor-trailer trucks are delivering thousands of folding chairs for attending dignitaries who will not be able to fit inside the cathedral. Everywhere stand people with cameras. We are witnessing the world watching us. This truly is, as we used to say in the 1970's, "A Happening."

The Olesiak family has invited me to celebrate my birthday at their home for traditional beet soup lunch (my favorite), and cake. "A birthday you won't ever forget," they say. I celebrate so I won't forget.

Late afternoon. We walk Krakow Centrum. The crowds are bigger. Candles everywhere, as are the country's flags draped in black ribbon. No one is rushing to get somewhere else. We are all simply and calmly just here. The atmosphere is thick with respect and patience. As night falls the thin layer of volcanic ash miles above has turned the sun into a brilliant orange ball.

It has been two days since an airplane passed overhead. I am reminded of the eerie silence the air over the US held during the week following 9/11. Obama's flight has been cancelled. The ash has made too risky an Air Force One flight over Europe. I think again: "My plane too."

April 18, 2010. Three or four aircraft from outside Poland make it into Krakow - one or two from Russia, one from Ukraine and another carrying the president of Georgia apparently flying from the US and through a half dozen other countries determined o arrive, albeit late for the funeral but in time for the burial. I watch a Russian plane come and go as I live amidst "The Happening" with 100,000 others standing, sitting and kneeling in the large grassy field know as "Blonia". It is a seven-hour-long moment.

I have been thinking for the past eight days - the loss of one-thing ushers in the advent of another. Surely unseen and unreported economic and political forces are shifting within as well as outside the Polish borders and establishments, again just as the raw lava is shifting beneath Iceland. Sad and stunned as this population is, there are tremendous opportunities and risks at stake here that perhaps we won't see unfold for months or years. But it's a sure bet because a void has been created. And something always moves to fill a void.

April 19, 2010. Pawel Olesiak, Pawel Bernas and their associate, Adam, need to drive to Warsaw for a meeting. I ride with them. Perhaps I can catch a flight because some flights are still showing "departure on schedule". It takes us five hours to get to Warsaw. Along the way the radio reports, "Yesterday in America the US president played golf. Yesterday at the Wawel we buried ours." I feel embarrassed. Someone should have had better foresight. The Warsaw airport, though open this morning, is now closed. I wait for the Pawel's to have their meeting. We drive back to Krakow.

April 20 & 21, 2010. I am in Krakow waiting for the calendar to turn to April 24. I go to the airport and ask to "stand by". That phrase has no meaning.

April 22, 2010. Word arrives just after midnight. A flight is available on April 23. How did that happen? Who knows? Who cares? It happened.

April 23, 2010. I'm in Krakow at 10 am - and then - I am in Frankfurt mid day and then San Francisco and it's 6:30pm. My bus drops me in Petaluma, CA. It is 8 pm.

April 24, 2010. Sonoma County, California. This afternoon my 60^th birthday party is scheduled, held over because of the well-planned trip to Europe, a party almost cancelled because of events in Russia, Poland and Iceland that changed the trip. My mother - 85 years young, yet fragile and with my sister - arrived into Petaluma last night at the same time as me. We decide this morning to attend the annual Petaluma "Better and Egg Days" festivities before heading off to the big party.

The sun is shining at the parade, but mom is feeling cold. She walks to stand in the shade. She faints and falls. She is fortunate. Though she is knocked out cold, only one rib, one wrist and one thumb are broken and one eye blackened. It could have been worse. She won't make the party. Tonight a hospital is her home, but she is alive.

In the ER we discover the cause. In the rush to enjoy the ceremonies of the day, on her terms rather than as nature required, mom made a simple decision to not drink water. The result - dehydration and accompanying drop in blood pressure. Not terribly unlike a pilot's decision made fourteen days prior to ignore a different set nature's signals. The rest - simply a matter of gravity, distance to landing, number of passengers aboard and, of course, the arbitrariness and capriciousness of fate.

Certainty and perpetual strength are illusions, as are the promises (and fears) of long lasting relationships and fortunes. We walk temporarily on the edge of life. We can demand entitlement, and pout for it when it eludes us, yet as with certainty and guarantee, entitlement is as whimsical as fog. Life is fragile. It changes every moment. It's as delicate as the thin layer of land that covers the molten raw energy churning below Earth's crust and the thin layer of air that rides just above that crust. It's as subtle as the intricate motions of the hand responsible for caressing the flight controls of an aircraft descending for a safe homecoming, and the spoken and unspoken words and glances that influence the hand touching throttle and playing the ailerons. It's as delicate as the finger that reaches for a cup of water but yields upon hearing an inner voice that whispers, "wait 'till later." Life's simple preciousness and profoundness happens everyday, as do the players that make up its games. Rarely are either predictable or guaranteed.

Winter 1975.

It is a sunny Sunday Honolulu afternoon. Thirty some of us sit in a room overlooking the expanse of Waikiki's shoreline.A young brash rich fellow full of youth's vinegar and confidence asks,"If you knew you had only one day of life remaining what would you do with that day?"Then he adds, "We should take a few minutes to write our answers to that question."

Summer 1991.

It is a dark northern California night.The Milky Way stretches brilliantly across the black sky. A number of us are preparing to go to bed. A wise elderly athletic gentleman poses the following in preparation for how we will engage with him in a training session that will occupy our next day:"As you leave tonight reflect on the people who have made up your life. Before we see each other tomorrow, sit quietly and write a letter as though it would be the last thing you would ever get to write. This may serve our purpose tomorrow. Don't send the letter. Just write it.As you do, honestly consider who you will write to, what you will say and why."

A 30 Day Exercise

2010-05-02T08:27:00.000-07:00

When I'm drivin' in my car

And a man comes on the radio

He's tellin' me more and more

About some useless information

Supposed to fire my imagination

- M Jagger / K Richards

The research and evidence is strong. External suggestion as well as auto-suggestion affect your results and your well being, e.g. the words and works of Napoleon Hill, Dr. Dean Edell, Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor, Dr. Dean Ornish, Dr. Maxwell Maltz, George Leonard, Marcus Aurelius, Lawrence Gonzales, James Allen, John Kabat-Zinn, Ph.D., etc., etc., etc.

The February Allied Ronin e-newsletter topic was Don’t Lose Your Attractiveness by being dragged down into the trap of negative thinking. The article was inspired by communication I was engaged in for over a month as friends, clients and associates related how they were struggling with and bemoaning an economy in turmoil. “How could I have missed this!” – “Where did I go wrong!” – “What am I going to do!?” February’s article urged: (a) we need to own up to where we are; yet (b) not overindulge ourselves with self-doubt and/or worry lest we destroy the very attractiveness that creates the healthy foundations and relationships upon which constructive results depend.

A preponderance of fear-based advertising and communication pervades the TV, radio and print medium. My opinion, yes, though I think it’s safely accurate. No new news here. But I believe we are numb, anesthetized to just how prevalent this is. Haven’t noticed? Perhaps it’s time you did. Why? Because, ideas that journey past the outer ear do impact you and me in real and tangible ways. Until and unless we notice this, our senses will dull, as will our thinking and our capacity to act with a clear and discerning mind.

Whether the radius of your world is measured by the distance between where you stand and the nearest traffic sign, or some spot on the other side of the globe, what you hear, see and feel generate perspectives and creative capacities that are then walked into and called “reality”. Our perspectives perpetuate to such an extent that we no longer view them as perspectives – rather, we begin to view them as truths. Every so often we should stop, look, listen and take stock of the subtle ideas we are being fed by others. Then we ought take action, including owning up to past perspectives that were mistaken or held in error.

Many (me too) consider themselves students of the mind-body connection, or the mind-wallet-bank account connection, or the mind-relationship connection. At some point in our lives we started tuning in to what our thinking was actually being barraged by. We listened to a talking head, or watched a video, e.g. The Secret, and latched onto the notion that, as my old teacher used to say, “To Think Is To Create.” Then most run off to try to push-think hopes and dreams into material stuff. But in the doing so, we rarely discipline ourselves to attend (i.e. pay attention) to the radio or TV, or the images in ads, or the political spin masters as they weave paragraphs laden with doublespeak and shoddy premised foundations. Rare is the person disciplined enough to notice his or her own resultant self talk! If for no other reason than this a meditation practice is important.

Whether you consider yourself an ardent student or just a dabbler in this regard, you probably have a degree of understanding that outside thought and suggestion affects your grey matter. Yes? But, just because our technologies (computers, google & Yahoo, twitter, etc.) add seeming ease to life does not relieve us of the responsibility and accountability to guard the thinking mind. Advertisers know that subtle shifts in image and tone affects the buying public. News media (TV, radio, print, online) know that the pictures and words that confront you will color your perspective. CNN will show you one image of a smiling politician, while FOX News shows a growling image of the same politician (and vice versa) … both images used to report the identical event but shaping a different story. Why? Because it’s not the news they are selling, it’s something else. Doubt it? Then why so much money spent monthly on political campaigns after the elections are over? --- and on advertising the reason you should buy a certain burger, attend a particular brand name church this weekend, scent to your skin with this one oh sooo good and chug that brew at the party?

Case in point: almost every politician says, “I’m against negative campaigning!” Yet negative campaigning (i.e. fear-based selling) continues decade after decade. How come? Maybe we’ve just normalized to it. Perhaps we’re even comforted by it. Like a frog in the proverbial water-slowly-coming-to-boil we’ve been swimming in “it’s just the way things are” and we no longer recognize the water is there, let alone the temperature rising. Kind of like smelling foot odor as the tennis shoes come off after a game. Then the smell goes away. Except, the smell doesn’t go away. But our discerning mind sure does.

And another: I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard radio talk show hosts rant and rave about a particular injustice, only break away for ads that promotes the very injustice or notion the host is hammering against. What’s going on? Show business, that’s what.

Many of us (or the companies that employ our time and talents) have spent sizeable amounts on workshops, courses, lectures, videos, books and audio programs calling us to our attend to our thinking. But what practices do we put in place and return to on a regular basis for our well being after the course or seminar or lecture is over?

For the sake of clarity, I’m not necessarily addressing wellbeing as physical health and wealth, though wellbeing in those domains is important. I’m addressing the wellbeing of the emotion and spirit, and the well being national consciousness and global awareness.

So, with the above as background grist, here’s an exercise (or practice) to engage in for the next 30 days, with full knowledge that something will come your way to distract you from hanging in there with this. If you are willing to take on this simple exercise, I recommend you give it a fair shot for the full 30-day duration.

Here are the tools to use for the exercise:

(1) a pen or pencil,

(2) a small pocketsize notebook,

(3) a brain (yours) and a degree of alertness,

(4) a willingness to pay attention to what is going on around you: the conversations; the TV; the songs, ads and talk on radio; the pictures, symbols and words in print and internet medium strung together to convince of a point of view OR worse yet something that some one say YOU NEED, that you didn’t know beforehand that YOU NEEDED!

The exercise.

Stay alert, pay attention and note each communication or piece of rhetoric that meets your eyes and/or ears that is either fear-based, guilt-based, greed-based, or entitlement-based --- or any combination of the four. It doesn’t matter if these come in the form of advertisement, political commentary (regardless the brand name of the espousing political party), religious conviction (no matter the brand name of the espousing church), etc. At this stage the source doesn’t matter. What does matter is: (1) pay attention, (2) take note, and (3) ask at least these three questions: “What is being said, fed, sold or told?” “Why this?” “Who, besides myself, stands to benefit if I am convinced or agree with what I am hearing and/or what is being implied?” Listen to it all. Look at what you record. Sift through it at the end of the day. Look for patterns.

Pay attention to what you are being told by others that “YOU WANT” or that “YOU NEED” – especially in advertisements - that you didn’t know YOU actually WANTed or that YOU actually NEEDed prior to the suggestion that was so generously offered in double or triple doses by advertisers, talking heads, politicians and/or the oh-so-righteous. It may sound something like this: “What the American People want is (blah, blah, blah) ” OR “Surely you know, truly smart people understand the need for (yatta, yatta, yatta)” OR “What that teacher really meant way back then was (this and that, this and that, all translated to fit today’s context – a context non-existent way back then)

In some ways, this exercise may become a rather humorous. You might find yourself laughing in a few days. You might even catch yourself talking to the radio or TV, “Heck, I didn’t know I needed that.” Then again, you might find yourself switching to another station or channel, or just turning the darn thing (or person) off.

Return to the list of names that opened this article, particularly Napoleon Hill. He finished his research for Think and Grow Rich in 1927, then published the manuscript ten years later. He didn’t invent what he wrote about, he reported on it. As I recall, and I’m willing to be wrong, he promoted the idea of SERVICE, and that this (service) was the result of FINDING something that OTHERS (not self) TRULY NEED and then HONESTLY going about FILLING THAT NEED so that those OTHERS would and could BENEFIT. I don’t recall him writing that service resulted from creating or inventing an imagined need and then convincing others that the thing created was in fact something that had to be filled so that the person who imagined it could benefit. Again, I could be mistaken, so I’ll go back and take another look at the book. But, this I will say – it is disturbing just how many programs, products and so-called “services” exist today that say they are based on Hill’s work and yet they operate with darn near the sole intent of filling their own need. And here I’m including some that exist in my field of the human potential, leadership education and team effectiveness. Self-help spun in a different direction, i.e. which “self” are we talking about being helped?

Back to the above offered exercise. I don’t think anyone needs to do it. Consider it as simply what it is – an exercise. You’ll benefit, I’m confident, by touching on something important to you. I honestly believe it will be enlightening, ear and eye opening, especially if preconceptions and past certainties are set aside. From it you may find, over the next thirty days, possibilities forgotten or overlooked, accompanied by renewed strength to take action. Inspect, account and discern what is flowing into your consciousness that is being promoted by someone else’s self-serving motivation.

When I'm watchin' my TV

And a man comes on to tell me

How white my shirts can be

But he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke

The same cigarettes as me

I can't get no, oh no no no

Hey hey hey, that's what I say

I can't get no satisfaction

- M Jagger / K Richards

Money on the Table

2010-04-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

I received email last week encouraging me to enroll in a free on-line promising to train me to “never leave money on the table” when dealing with customers or clients. I was flabbergasted and saddened. Memories stirred of someone I once worked for. I recalled that someone one day walked into the back of a room full of 80 people we were about to serve, and not realizing I was standing off to the side, asked “Well, how much money do you think we can get out of these people this week?” I stepped out and looked straight at her and replied, “I think you’re asking the wrong person.” That stunned her. She could have inquired about who was attending our program, what were their backgrounds, what I knew of their desires and dreams, or what our plan was for serving them, i.e. what we could do for them. But that’s not what happened. That was sixteen years ago.

Between then and last week you and I witnessed blatant self-serving on grand scales: Enron, sub-prime loans out the ying-yang, a global economic crisis that pales everything in comparison ‘cept the Great Depression. Yet, with today’s news that the stock market has greatly recovered from 2008, our collective assumptions, mind sets and actions really haven’t changed that much!

The person who sent me the email is in the service industry, in fact - the seminar business, and has made a lot of money. He knows that clients and customers smile only short term for those who sell yet attempt to squeeze for every nickel and dime. But over time, those ostensibly served do not suffer slick fools. Their smiles and nods eventually walk away, as do their bodies and the bodies of those they would refer.

What’s the deal here? People aren’t stupid. Just as every husband or wife knows (on some level) when his or her mate is cheating on them, so people know (on some level) when someone else is slipping a hand into their pocket for more and more and more. “Islands are connected, and so we are connected,” goes the motivational story. “Above the water, what we see is an illusion. But when we drop deep below the surface we find that we are joined in oneness; we are in fact the same!” preaches the self-help guru. Yet many a self-help guru has set this concept, this ideal, aside when then the glitter of gold is sitting before them on the table. Yes, it’s important to make money. But, at what cost? What’s the deal?

I’m not against self-help, human potential organizations. Quite the contrary, I think they are a great idea. I personally engage in that work. But we have to return to and remember it as a work full of people, not an industry full of units.

Lawyers suffer the brunt of “ambulance chaser” jokes, and for some rightfully so. People not in the legal profession, yet who live by the credo of the never-leave-money-on-the-table syndrome, suffer a similar come-from, a sense of lack, akin to the illness that can drive a hustling get-whatever-you-can barrister into a shallow existence of full pockets and lots of beautiful people, but leaving a trail of burned-out former employees, and former clients who will out of loyalty agree that, “Yes, I gained a lot from him, and he effectively wiped out my competition (or X-wife/ husband/ etc.), but I wouldn’t recommend him to you as a friend or someone you would really want to know – or, for that matter, trust – because the bottom line for him is, well --- just a bottom line.”

When did it become a cosmic mistake for an organization or individual to leave money on the table during a negotiation or a sale? Is abundance in such short supply that we have to grab and hang on to every thing, every vote, every scrap, every dime and every human being that we touch, leaving bare the table? Talk about a zero-sum game!

People are savvy. Many will actually watch how others handle a negotiation or a sale just to see who is going to grab for the last buck. They do, don’t you know? I’ll buy once or twice from someone to test his or her understanding of service, and see if he or she is motivated by that kind of greed. But once I understand that the person I’m dealing with is more interested on how much she or he can get, i.e. scrape off the table, as opposed to how much she or he can serve -- well then, I take my needs somewhere else. What about you??

ON FAILURE.

2010-02-24T10:41:00.000-08:00

I’m reading email today from a friend and colleague who has just had some big plans fall through that involved me. His words, “We learned a lot as you often do when you fail at something.” Then he writes an apology to wit: “Sorry I wasted a lot of your time and efforts.” My reply – “You didn’t waste my time and efforts!”

Thirty-five years ago on a Saturday afternoon I sat in a seminar that was to become a launching pad for the work I’m engaged in, and listened to someone read a list of statements about FAILURE. It went something like this:

Failure is really our judgment of an experience.
Just as every year has a summer and a winter so we are going to have the varied experiences of life, and some of these we will judge as failures.
Failure says, “It’s too hard this way. There’s a better way. Look for it.”
Often the very change we want comes through seeming failure.
Many of life greatest successes and inventions have come through seeming failure
It could be said that you are being nudged off a side road of life that leads to the main road called success.

When I hear of failure I’m reminded of the following:

At the Battle of Gettysburg, the decisive fight on the left side of the Union Army flank was at a place called Little Round Top. The fact that the Union won at that decisive point was a series of failures by … the Union troop located there. A sizable number of their troopers on that little piece of ground were deserters who had been talked back into the fray by Colonel Joshua Chamberlain. It could be said that some other officer had failed to lead them properly, and Chamberlain seized the moment in the face of defeat to win their trust and was able to have them with him. Additionally, Chamberlain gave obscure orders to one of his Company Commanders, a Captain Morrill, who didn’t ask for clarification. Chamberlain’s failure to communicate and Morrill’s failure to inquire were factors in Morrill’s being in the right place and at the right time when Chamberlain really needed him. Not to excuse either, but it is an interesting and factual perspective. Sometimes plans just don’t work out, and yet produce some surprising opportunities.

Thirteen years ago I failed to wear the correct clothes for a walk on a beach and ended up slipping off boulders and breaking my left him. That one failure cost me dearly. Some of which I’m still paying for. But had I not broken my hip I wouldn’t have done a number of things: (a) slowed down my life enough to reflect on where I was going; (b) asked for help – something I tend to avoid; (c) started an active drive to deliver the Samurai Game® which led to serving thousands of individuals and hundreds of organizations; (d) begun a practice in a powerful discipline – aikido; (e) rekindled a friendship with my long-ago roommate from college, John Gallagher.

All politics aside – had Al Gore won the presidency he probably wouldn’t have had the impact he has regarding world climate. Like Gore or not, he’s made a difference. More people are paying attention to what we’re all doing with our planet than they were back when he ran for the office … and that’s good.

In the latter years of the eighteenth century had William Wilberforce not failed again and again at getting his bill to abolish the slave trade before the English Parliament he never would have had the stamina to carry on for twenty-six years and make his dream a reality. (See Amazing Grace the movie).

Had Helen Keller not struggled to see, hear and speak the world would never have had the lessons that he life brought forth. In the end, she still couldn’t see – but she had vision; she still couldn’t talk – but she had a voice; she still couldn’t hear – but she listened. Her life gave others eyes, ears and mouths they otherwise would never have experienced.

A year and a half ago, I sat on a couch with my mentor, George Leonard. There he was, frail and aging. We both knew it. I asked him if he was still working on his last book. He looked me square in the eyes, thumped his chest with his right forefinger and said, “As long as there’s a spark of life in here I’ll be at it!”

We look today at the Winter Olympics Games going on in Vancouver, Canada. We see the youth of the world standing on podiums wearing bronze, silver and gold. Who we don’t see are those who slipped and fell and “failed”. Sure as I write these words, some of these people, these “failures”, will stand on podiums in their future, grasp their medals and raise their bouquets - OR they will inspire others to do so. Case in point – the skating coach from China at these Olympics: he was a miserable failure on the ice himself a few decades ago, laughed at and humiliated. Today, he’s a masterful example of a champion, coaching others to heights he could only imagine and setting a standard for his country and the rest of the world to take notice of.

So when it comes to failure – take another look. Then - get on with it.

PS – the Japanese word for CRISIS is KiKi and is composed of two kanji. One means danger or risk, the other means opportunity.

© Lance Giroux – Feb 2010

In Memory of George Leonard

2010-02-11T20:16:00.000-08:00

February 1, 2010

I walk into Peet’s Coffee.
A young woman, Jamie, serves my usual: small decaf and zucchini bread.
The tattoo on her wrist reads: “To Heaven and Hell – Follow Your Heart”
A deep voice in my mind whispers, “Say Alert!”
It is the voice of George Leonard.

The Retrospect
Kahlil Gibran’s (1883-1931) The Prophet speaks to the philosophy of an imagined Almustafa. In magnificent prose it touches on timeless topics of significance and substance: giving and law, reason and passion, children and marriage, freedom and pain, self-knowledge and friendship, good and evil, and finally death. Then, it says farewell. The Prophet opens with Almustafa standing and overlooking Orphalese, his beloved city, contemplating his life, now nearing its end.

[H]e climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld his ship coming with the mist. Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul. But as he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city. -- -- The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.

Gibran, a Lebanese immigrant, published The Prophet in 1923, from Boston where he lived. It has been in print ever since. In August of that year, and a thousand to the south, the family line of Aaron Burr, an American politician and Revolutionary War patriot and third Vice President of the United States produced a new child. As with the words of Gibran and his Almustafa, the words and writings of this son-of-the-south would over a lifetime be recognized as wise, profound and significant. His actions would influence millions. His philosophy would touch the heart of the lowly, the average and the advanced. His name: George Burr Leonard. He passed away Tuesday, January 6, 2010, at his home in Mill Valley, California. He was 86.

The Man
George Leonard’s love for letters and music spanned a lifetime, as did his love for country, freedom and people. As a youth he had his own swing band. He served America in combat as an A-20 fighter-bomber pilot in WWII, and again during the Korean War, this time as an air intelligence officer. After the wars he advanced in one of his many passions, writing, and became an award-winning editor for Look Magazine. His articles covered the Civil Rights movement in the US before it was safe or popular to do so. He rubbed shoulders with Martin Luther King, Jr., and shared office space with Bobbie Kennedy. He chronicled the rise of the Iron Curtain (literally) in Eastern Europe – driving its length by car and probing its turf on foot. That he contributed extensively for Esquire would be an understatement. He remains that magazine’s most prolific writer. His twelve books included "Mastery", "The Ultimate Athlete", "The Silent Pulse", "Education and Ecstasy", "The Transformation", "The Way of Aikido", "Walking on the Edge of the World" and others. As with The Prophet, “Mastery” has never gone out of print; it is read today around the world and in easily found bookstores throughout the US.

He developed, practiced and taught a method of self-understanding and study, Leonard Energy Training. He presided over Esalen Institute’s board of directors www.esalen.org and co-founded ITP International www.itp-international.org with Esalen’s founder, Michael Murphy. At the time of his passing he was Esalen’s president emeritus. Recognized by Time magazine as the father of the human potential movement in the US, he in fact coined the phrase "the human potential movement."

At age 47, George Leonard began to study a Japanese martial art, Aikido. A few years later he co-founded the Aikido of Tamalpais dojo www.tam-aikido.org in Mill Valley, California, with two others who were on similar paths: Richard Strozzi-Heckler and Wendy Palmer – both now recognized globally for their work in realm of the human potential and as Aikido teachers (sensei). He advanced to the rank of fifth-degree blackbelt, and regularly trained and taught the art until well past his 80th year. He remains perhaps the most authored Aikido sensei in the world. Except for Kisshomaru Ueshiba, son of legendary Morihei Ueshiba O’Sensei who developed Aikido, it could be argued that George Leonard, more than any other human being, influenced more people in the world to take up, examine and practice this martial discipline. His purpose: self-awareness and peaceful resolution to conflict.

The Connection
The lens through which I knew and experienced George took root in 1990. I encountered a leadership and team effectiveness simulation he had created. He once explained, “I had been thinking of communicating the value of life’s vividness and this just kind of came to me on an afternoon walk from my home to the dojo. It was influenced by encounters I had had with old war buddies, my study of the Japanese culture, and of course, Aikido. I suspended the class I was going to teach and asked everyone if they wanted to play a game for a little while. They said OK. A week later they were emotionally still in it and I knew something special was going on here.” He would later copyright, name and trademark this as The Samurai Game® www.SamuraiGame.org.

Unlike any other effectiveness simulation then or now, the Samurai Game® sources its strength from participants; becoming a sort of human chess match wherein players are also the pieces bound by rules which, like haiku, constrain yet offer unlimited possibilities for expression. Within the game a lifetime can be experienced. With Aikido as its foundation, it begs individual understanding of integrity, respect, compassion and decisiveness; and it demands honorable interaction and blending with opponents without the certainty of a favorable outcome. For the sake of a singular purpose all are asked, as George would often say, to “engage wholeheartedly and generously” and win or lose (metaphorically live or die) - to honorably serve others, particularly the opponent.

In 1995, the connection took a large step. He agreed to become one of the founding Associates of Allied Ronin. I was (and am) humbled and will be forever grateful. Five years later, because of an important need he had been expressing, I began to directly serve him and his Trust for the purpose of strengthening the training and certification of those who would seek to facilitate this simulation. We led many Games together, most at his dojo in Mill Valley, preceded and followed by meetings, innumerable phone conversations and lots of fun and laughs. The standards for facilitator training and certification were enhanced and codified. With this he and his wife, Annie, became for my dreams – some personal, others professional – close allies and dear friends. George was always available to listen to the deeply personal, some happy, some agonizing. He was always willing to reveal himself as well. He understood that that which is personal is what lives are anchored to, resonate with and revolve around. Anchor, resonate and revolve: words not haphazardly chosen. He acted with a heart seeking to understand.

I once nervously suggested to him that the Samurai Game was his greatest creation, a rather bold statement, given his contributions as an author. I offered that it would be great it to take it around the world. His reply, “Why not?!” Looking back, it was he and the Game that began to take me around the world - to witness things and be with people that in my wildest dreams never thought possible.

The Impact
Today almost forty certified facilitators serve his traditions and requests through this simulation. These are sons and daughters of the world; citizens of Mexico and Poland, PR China and Taiwan, the UK and SE Asia, Australia and the United States. Some are well-seasoned group process facilitators. Some own their own training and consulting organizations. Some are college professors. Some are renowned authors. A lawyer and an engineer. Some work with youth-at-risk who walk the edge of life and death and are confined to institutions. Some are simple men and women, relatively unknown, who have no great following, yet possess the heart to serve and assist people. Today, others seek to join their ranks.

The Game, once only an afternoon thought, has been repeatedly delivered on every continent with the exception of Antarctica and South America. Its use and popularity are growing. With it George Leonard has touched through action the lives of hundreds of thousands of people around the world – including those at the United Nations Secretariat, AIESEC International and it 90 some country constituencies, AT&T, Societe Generale’ Corporate & Investment Banking, US Army Special Forces, Vantage Corporation in PR China, Nokia, Verizon Wireless, the Julia Morgan School for Girls, Brandeis-Hillel School, the Horizon Academy, Texas A&M University, University of Nevada, University of San Francisco, the Organizational Behavior Teacher Society – and hundreds of other organizations. Indirectly, millions of people have felt its impact. Enhanced are their individual and group awareness, and their connection with a strong internal ethical code. Far reaching when compared to the few hundred meters that distanced George’s Locust Street home from his dojo off East Blithedale Street in Mill Valley.

The Words
On October 6, 2006, a surprise email arrived from Steve Fujitani of Honolulu, who I hadn’t seen or heard from in nine years. It read:
"So, here I am, years after playing the Samurai Game and it starts to come back, all the wonderful truths and ah-hahs ... then I find something I wrote to my kids dated November 1997 when I played it with you. All the wisdom shared about leadership, fears, agendas and truths ... I look forward to continuing the journey, as I'm sure are many others who've truly experienced the Game.

Sometimes life's greatest ah-hah's take an eternity to make themselves apparent, but... hey, as long as we get past the outer layers, right? I played [it] in 1997, but I feel a though I just woke up - again. Sailing's always been my passion, but skippering my own boat out on the deep blue was a real fear, as was the restaurant (Souvaly Thai Cuisine) I'm now opening. In retrospect, I think the leadership training and the Samurai Game played a big part in overcoming the phobias we unnecessarily weave into things, preventing us from achievement we'd otherwise never know."

On February 1, 2010, a message arrived through Face Book from Marta Bruske, past president of AIESEC Poland. It read:
I was intending to get in touch with you so many times for last few years and somehow never managed. I feel really ashamed I waited with writing this email for so long :) There has been so many things that happened since we last met on the conference in Poland. I spend last years looking for the right place for me. I lived in Brussels and London for some time. Last year I came back to Warsaw and finally I got some time to join AIKIDO trainings.

I was thinking about it since ' samuray game' in Netherlands. I guess I just had to wait for the right moment to come. I am still a newee in this area. Practicing not even a year but enjoying the learning a lot :) I joined Aikido Kobayashi dojo.

How is samuray game evolving? I still live this experience (even though it has been so many years ago!) and I know that many people who played it feel the same. I owe you big THANK you for that! - Best Wishes! Marta

The Thought and Thanks
Today we live with technologies that advance in complexity and capacity each moment. Their speed and application increase exponentially. We no sooner purchase the newest gadget than we are encouraged to buy the next. Why? Because we are informed that we need to. What was the latest and greatest a moment ago is now passé. We are told (and subsequently we begin to think) these technologies can make life easier and better. In reality, our problems and potentials are not unlike those of Kahlil Gibran’s era. Resolving human conflict, living with dignity, being honesty, acting honorably, offering respect to others and especially to one’s contrary – these are not things purchased. These are the rhythms of the breath of life; rhythms that cannot be bought and sold; rhythms that must be felt and heard, spoken to, developed and practiced. They form the ongoing challenge and responsibility of individuals and communities who seek constructive approaches to life rather an addiction to acquisition.

Our world wants answers to issues not unlike those faced by the people who sought advice from Gibran’s ancient, mystical and imagined Almustafa, the Prophet. Now, as then, many desire to acknowledge only themselves as the source of their own success, boasting or seeking to be self-made. Unfortunately they confuse and blur the line between being independent and disconnected. We sadly tend to forget the impact that others before us have had when fortune knocks on our door; yet we do remember the impact of others when misfortune stands in its place. Yes, individually we must raise our own sails to catch the winds of grace that blow. But the winds of grace that touch our lives issue forth from the inspired breath of those whose feet have trod valleys and shorelines before us.

All human beings stand beneath the shadows and in the shade of others. Some of us resent and resist this. They see shadows and shade to be limiting. Shadows are produced by obstructions to light. Shade is cold. The worry of these unfortunates is that they might live an unseen life. I had the fortune to meet and walk with a man in his shadow; a shadow beneath which I and countless others found warmth; a shadow that, paradoxically, offered and continues to offer illumination.

George Leonard’s life (1923–2010) will be memorialized at a service on Sunday, February 28, 2010, at the Mill Valley Community Center, 180 Camino Alto, Mill Valley, California, from 3:00 pm until 6:00 pm. Tax deductible contributions may be made in his name at www.itp-international.org.

“What will count in the long run
is not just what we learn to do
but what we are willing to be.
The most promising adventure is worth joining
only if it contributes to the common good.”
-George Leonard (2006, The Silent Pulse, p.191)

George Leonard

2010-01-19T07:16:00.000-08:00

The memorial service for George Leonard will be February 28, 2010, at the Mill Valley Community Center, 180 Camino Alto, Mill Valley, California, from 3:00 pm until 6:00 pm. George passed away Tuesday, January 6, at his home in Mill Valley, California. He was 86.

During his life Mr. Leonard served in the US Army Air Corps as a combat fighter-bomber pilot in WWII and during the Korean War as an air intelligence officer. He was an editor and wrote extensively for Look Magazine and won many awards there as he covered the Civil Rights movement in the US and the rise of the Iron Curtain in Eastern Europe. He remains the most prolific writer ever for Esquire Magazine. His twelve major books included "Mastery", "The Ultimate Athlete", "The Silent Pulse", "Education and Ecstasy", "The Transformation", "The Way of Aikido", "Walking on the Edge of the World" and others. "Mastery" written in 1991, has never gone out of print and has been continuously stocked in book store throughout the US since its publication.

With Michael Murphy he co-founded Esalen Institute, and at the time of his passing was Esalen's president emeritus. He also co-founded ITP International and Aikido of Tamalpais. Taking up aikido at age 47 he went on to attain the rank of 5th degree black belt. It would be safe to say he was the most authored aikido sensei in the world. Arguably, he was (and possibly remains) the most influential person in the spreading of aikido awareness in the USA. He was recognized by Time magazine as the father of the human potential movement in the US, and was the individual who coined the phrase "the human potential movement."

On an afternoon in 1977 as he walked from his home to his dojo, George created the Samurai Game®. Since then the Game was copyrighted, solely owned by him and his wife Annie, and the Leonard Trust. The simulation has directly affected the lives of hundreds of thousands around the world, and indirectly touched millions with lessons of effective leadership and team work - greatly strengthening one's awareness and connection to a strong ethical code. A cadre of over thirty certified facilitators now spreads across the globe: Mexico to Poland to PR China to Taiwan to the UK and across the USA.

I met George in 1990. He agreed to become an Associate of Allied Ronin in the late 1990's. In 2000, I began serving him as his sole training and certification representative for the Game. Together we led many Samurai Games, most of them at his dojo in Mill Valley. He became my closest ally and, along with his wife, a dear friend. The work we did in codifying the Game and it's standards and methods of facilitator training and certification will continue, as will my service to their Trust in this regard. I promised him in 1994 that I would take the Game around the world. The fact is, though, that he and the Game have taken me around the world. His work directly touched many millions of people on every continent of the globe. The planet Earth is a better place in 2010 than it was in 1923 in no small measure because of this one man and his vision, his wholeheartedness, his commitment and his generosity.

Tax deductible contributions may be made in George Leonard's name at www.itp-international.org

An (y)Earful

2010-01-18T08:07:00.000-08:00

Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sounds of silence.

-Simon & Garfunkel

It has been a full year, 2009, and with wonderful experiences: Mexico City and Brisbane Australia (twice each); Yi-lan County Taiwan and Brighton UK and Honolulu (once each); the aikido class for professors attending the Organizational Behavior Teacher Conference '09 at College of Charleston; the sixth consecutive year serving the University of Nevada Las Vegas; the three Samurai Game® Facilitator Training Courses held here in Petaluma; the outreach program for Aikido'ka dojo and sensei Frank Blocksburg in Grass Valley, CA; two Allied Ronin Leaders' Retreats; the Samurai Game® facilitator certification of Jenaro Pliego (jpfoxmx@yahoo.com.mx) (Mexico City), Dwight Min (dwitmin@hotmail.com) (Honolulu), Rev. Francis Briers (revfrancis@wildmail.com) (UK), and Paul Marshall (paul@cdrs.com.au) (Australia); and the release of the new Allied Ronin program available to organizations and the public which culminated in La Jolla, CA, six weeks ago as 130 executives and managers attended "The Art of Practice and the Event Network dojo". The next delivery of this new program will be January 12 in Seattle, this time "The Art of Practice and the USS JOHN C. STENNIS Dojo" with120 US Navy personnel attending. Thank you, Andi Burgis of Challenge-U for your courage in setting up the January program.

All of this makes grist for a lengthy article, but not this month. Rather, I invite you to participate in something incredibly profound; at least I think so. Something I found online and watched tonight, twice actually. Something that was delivered almost seven years ago with a thousand people participating. Of course, a few of you may have seen it. But so what! It's truly worth experiencing again.

The mission of Allied Ronin is: To Create Effective Leaders. In that regard much time and practice is dedicated to the art of listening - through an entire set of individual and collective faculties and capacities. Influence is the essence of leadership; and no matter the endeavor, listening is foundational to effective influence. I am particularly grateful to five people this past year whose lives significantly impacted this mission: Madeline Wade, Lisa Ludwigsen, Susan Hammond, Richard Strozzi-Heckler and George Leonard - all Associates of Allied Ronin. Each of these people has, in her or his own way, generously and sometimes unknowingly served me in my ability to listen. Their efforts, words, practices and lessons have encouraged me to listen with much more than my ears, i.e. with my hands and feet and back and heart, with my breath, with my eyes, in my reflections, with my sensitivity to nature that surrounds me, with an occasional glance at my skin as it ages or the feel of my knees when they hurt, and to (as Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel would say) the sound of silence. Take note: I didn't (and don't) always like what I was hearing from these five people. But here's the deal: one's like or dislike of what one is hearing is not what's at stake when it comes to listening. What's at stake is the fullness of life and the influence that that fullness has on the lives of others. This isn't theory; it's reality. You do understand that you are a leader, don't you? So the important question is: Do You Know You Are Being Followed? Ponder that a while, and it'll start to get under your skin. Then, take action on your answers, no matter what they are or how you feel about them.

Here is a link for you to hit. Spend the next 32 minutes of your life as a listener, and listen with all of your faculties. The presenter is an artist, a musician, Evelyn Glennie. She's deaf. But you wouldn't know it unless someone told you.

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/evelyn_glennie_shows_how_to_listen.html

If you search Wikipedia for Evelyn Glennie you will read:

"[She] has been profoundly deaf since age 12. This does not inhibit her ability to perform at the international level. She regularly plays barefoot for both live performances and studio recordings, to better "feel" the music. Glennie contends that deafness is largely misunderstood by the public. She claims to have taught herself to hear with parts of her body other than her ears. In response to criticism from the media, Glennie published Hearing Essay in which she personally discusses her condition."

A few last words before you hit the above link. What Evelyn Glennie is expressing in what you will experience during the next half hour holds an infinite number of possibilities when translated into all that we do in our work and play together. It has profound application to what we listen to daily, and not just with our ears. The mere fact that we do (and don't) listen she will call into question. Don't limit yourself to her music, which in and of itself is magnificent. That we hear others in our listening is paramount if we are to thrive. And so is that we hear ourselves - not only in what we say, but also in what we leave unsaid. Additionally, we ought attend to what our environment (the people, nature, our neighbors, friends, enemies and attachments) is expressing. We should train well, and strain well if need be, to listen to and hear what our insides are saying, and should attend to and feel that - not just with our emotions but with the very sinew that surrounds and holds those emotions. That to which we dedicate our bodies in the space of time we call life is important, but without listening we might miss it. The stuff of what Evelyn Glennie expresses has profound application to our every moment. And life is, after all, a string of moments.

The next half hour could be one of the most worthwhile half hours you have ever spent. If you find that not so, then call me (707-769-0328) and tell me I was wrong. I'll listen. In the meantime, enjoy!

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sounds of silence.

© Lance Giroux, 2010

SOIL

2009-12-05T08:17:00.001-08:00

Principle: The starting point of movement,

such as we find at either end of a measure

of length or a stretch of road.

- Aristotle (Metaphysics Book ∆, Chapter 1)

It's a clear California dusk, forty-eight hours after Thanksgiving. The sun is dropping fast tonight. My Arizona holiday week spent with four-dozen friends and family members is over. Things happen for me when I cross the state line and step onto Arizona soil. I don't know how to explain this, but the ground there has a certain familiarity, whether standing or when I fall, balance lost, on outstretched hands. I did both this trip. The dry Arizona air is familiar too, as are the odors of new rain and washed soil carried by it. This is the land from which I grew.

Passing through Joshua Tree National Park some days ago I found myself wondering how a person unfamiliar with the dessert southwest might perceive this arid open space. Lifeless? Actually, Joshua Tree is quite a forest, though not of fir or pine, redwood or spruce. But it's there and full of life; and as with opportunity, one has to pay attention and see it. It's all around and overwhelming, provided one pauses long enough to look.

The mountainous route I took was a few hours distance from where I grew up. Territory unvisited by me until this past weekend; breathtaking badlands separating Kingman, Arizona from Laughlin, Nevada. My brother told it would be this way, breathtaking. But I hadn't an idea of what he meant until I was there looking upon it myself.

There are a lot of things others have told me about, that I have had no idea of until I experienced them on my own. Ever find that true for you? Someone, a friend or relative, relates something to you. You wonder what they are talking about. Then one day you live through it yourself, and your perception changes in a big way. Thinking you know something is quite distinct from knowing something through an experience.

As the 2009 dims I want to call your attention to the articles that have appeared in this newsletter over the past eleven months: Seeds (Nov); October Potpourri (Oct); Food for Thought & Action (Sept); A True and Short Story (Aug); What Grabs you? (July); Profound Learning (June); Don't Lose Your Attractiveness (May); Breathing and Service (Apr); Thoughts from Taiwan (March); An Interview with George Hersh (Feb); In the Face of Fear, Take a Deep Breath (Jan). If you didn't read some of the above articles, or if you don't recall them, spend some time to revisit at www.AlliedRonin.blogspot.com. They are there for your reference and use.

The articles were written with a singular purpose: serve constructive effectiveness. The events of the last twelve months here in the United States and elsewhere in the world indicate that being effective in constructive ways is important. My hope is that we have learned from the last twelve months and will change course. My concern is that as the road to recovery widens we'll get lazy and forget, make a show of it, and not change course. But I don't want to dwell on fear.

The road of November took Susan Hammond and me to La Jolla (California) to serve the 125 executives and managers of Event Network attending their annual conference called The Huddle. We delivered "The Art of Practice & The Event Network Dojo" - an exciting and powerful short course of integrated study now available to the public and organizations through Allied Ronin.

The November road also took me to Brisbane (Australia) where Paul Marshall (www.cdrs.com.us) completed his training and certification to become Australia's first certified Samurai Game® facilitator. There we conducted a public offering of Developing the Warrior Within™, and then we served St. Agnes Primary School as the seventh grade class engaged in the Samurai Game®. Congratulations Paul!

And finally, the road led to Phoenix, Scottsdale, Meyer, and Prescott (Arizona) to connect me with associates and clients, and then to enjoy family, friends. Meyer and Prescott are special - my father's birthplace and hometown respectively, and the towns where his parents and grandparents lived out their lives. In Prescott I walked familiar streets in front of old saloons and homes, and stood aside fences and trees where in my youth katydids buzzed their summer nighttime songs before breaking shells to fly off into less constrained - at least for a while - lives. In Meyer I walked the dirt road on the ridgeline above town to the family plot where etched names and dates will endure for as long as marble can withstand the rain and wind, and the sun and snow.

Three days from now the road of December will lead me to Mexico City to serve with Luis Dominguez (A to B Mexico) and work with Jenaro Pliego Fox (Allied Ronin Associate and Mexico's first certified Samurai Game® facilitator). And then on December 10-11 to work with and serve Roberto Martinez and Dr. Rafael Lopez as they continue their journeys regarding facilitator certification.

These journeys have me thinking about some of the past eleven months' articles, which like recent roads, have been along. No need for that today. Just a few questions to dwell on as days grow short and 2009 closes. It is a natural time for reflection.

The people and places that we have surrounded ourselves with over a lifetime form the soil from which we have grown. At this moment we cannot change the facts of that soil. But we do have choice about how we relate to it. We can affect the result that the soil will have by how we step through it: (1) honest acknowledgement, (2) attention to how it continues to show up, and (3) by engaging in practices for future constructive results. Each step is important, must be attended to and not skipped over or avoided.

The people and situations that we currently surround ourselves with on a daily basis form the soil from which we will grow our tomorrows. There ought be no denying that the soil in which we find ourselves - who and what we surround ourselves with - influences our future.

A Reflection.
What past do you come from each day?
Does this serve what you want?
Who and what do you surround your self with each day?
Do they, does this, serve: (1) what you say you are about and (2) your future?

An opportunity.
Before December 31st arrives and the time comes for resolutions what actions can you, will you, take regarding this? What practices will you engage in? How will you till your soil?

Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished:

If you're alive, it isn't.

-Richard Bach (Illusions)

© Lance Giroux, October 2009

Outliers

2009-11-18T14:54:00.000-08:00

The book is Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, recommended to me by Dr. Alan Vann Gardner and given to me by my daughter, Caroline. Gladwell’s other come-highly-recommended-to-me works are: The Tipping Point and Blink.

I’m in Australia, sitting at Genoveve, a funky little coffee shop in Brisbane’s funky West End. It’s 6:15 a.m. November 13th here, making it November 12th afternoon back home in the States. I just phoned a client there and told him (almost demanded, actually) to buy Outliers before the sun goes down, and to read Chapter 7 – The Ethnic Theory of Plane Crashes – before bed. “That’s how much this thing has hit me,” I said. My client was in his car as I was placing the call. We ended the conversation with him pulling into a parking lot at a book store to make the purchase.

I can’t go into the reasons for my urgency – that’s privileged information. But I will say this, if he thinks I was out of my mind then I’ll willingly pay whatever price I need to, because from my vantage point he, his organization and the people who work for him are worth much more than my looking foolish.

I need to introduce Outliers to my son; but a different chapter and for different reasons. For him it’ll be #8 – Rice Paddies and Math Tests. I won’t call and push him from Australia. The odds that whereas my client probably appreciates this morning’s effort, my son will think I’m nuts. I’m his dad, not his consultant. Different relationship. Different backgrounds. Different situations. Definitely, different states of urgency, but, none-the-less, important.

I’m going to recommend Outliers to everyone coming to this year’s Leaders’ Retreats. The Winter 2010 Retreat is just two and a half months away – January 23-27. The Summer 2010 Retreat will be August 21-25.