While I Swim at Home, Our Combatants Fight On
by Ben Stein (from NewsMax Magazine June 2008, Pg. 34)
THERE IS A MAGNIFICENT SCENE IN BLADE RUNNER, MY FAVORITE postwar movie, in which Rutger Hauer, who plays a replicant, a human-looking robot, prepares to die. He tells his possibly human pursuer, Harrison Ford, that he has seen amazing things in his short life far out in outer space, and then he folds himself up and says, "Time to die."
As I get older, at a breakneck pace, I often think of the most beautiful, magnificent sights I have seen. The night sky in Santa Cruz, California, where I lay on a picnic bench and watched more stars than I had ever seen. It was a perfect moment of peace. I think of the Upper Priest Lake in Bonner County, Idaho, a lake three miles long, totally as nature made it eons ago, surrounded by forests and mountains, the Canada border a stone's throw away, immense eagles soaring overhead, with only one other guest, a young man windsurfing along the placid waters. And people say there is no God?
Then I think of my German Shorthaired Pointers lying in each others' paws as they sleep on the bed next to me. And I think of my saintly wife, with her perfect profile, reading in bed next to me, and I think of how lucky I was to find my soul's perfect companions -- my wife and my hounds.
But there is something I find even more amazing, even more moving: the sights of young men and women in the uniforms of the United States military, the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, the Coast Guard, the Reserves, and the Guard. It isn't just that they look great in their uniforms and their tall, straight posture.
No, what is amazing to me, and a spectacular sight, is that these are human beings with the same wishes and dreams for a long, peaceful, fulfilled life as you and I have. But they have offered up their young lives and their bodies and their health and their peace of mind and their very sanity -- and that of their families -- to go out and fight for my worthless, selfish life and comfort.
I sit at home. I swim in my pool. I play with my dogs. I make fresh Alaskan salmon for my wife on the grill. Then I check my stocks and then I go to sleep with the loves of my life as the air conditioning and the electric blanket and the mattress keep me perfectly comfortable.
They -- the military in combat -- sleep in ditches if they can sleep at all. They get their legs blown off. They have permanent brain damage. They go to eternity before their time. They live with the fear of torture if they are captured by the terrorists. They leave their children behind. They miss years at a time of their babies growing up. Their wives -- the true backbone of the nation -- keep the family together while the soldiers keep the perimeter of terror far from our hearths.
And for this, they are paid modest wages, at best. They lose their families all too often. They live in extreme discomfort. They are treated like commodities to be moved on a chessboard of global struggle.
Imagine, just imagine, what it is like to be in combat! Imagine the smartest people on the planet, the Germans and the Japanese, armed with the best weapons man can devise, trying to kill our fathers and grandfathers while they struggled in mud and snow and hail and freezing rain. And then the war ends and we drive in cars with tail fins, and they who once tossed grenades at Japanese pillboxes now coach the high-school tennis team, and combat is just a nightmare. Imagine that while we complain about the stock market and how expensive gasoline is, they fight it out with terrorists who use retarded children as suicide bombers and have no such thing as conscience.
Then they come home and see that there is no mention of them in the news, that the media cares only about deranged movie stars and recording artists and how much people weigh. They, the soldiers, marines, sailors, pilots, guard, Coast Guard, reserves, are invisible and alone.
Then, the combat stars go back to fight again, and we continue to worry about interest rates.
God help us. God bless them, the thin pillars on which all of mankind's tomorrows' hopes rest, the most glorious sight on heaven and earth. They should be the first thoughts in our prayers every moment of every day. They are the real miracles.
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Josh Allan Dykstra
When in a position of leadership, how much does a leader's lack of faith in a subordinate actually create their downfall? Is there some kind of derivative of a self-fulfilling prophecy that happens here?
To put it another way, will I, as a leader, only ever get as much as I expect out of the folks I try to lead? Is there some kind of projected glass ceiling of progress or productivity that I fabricate over their heads?
Or can a leader's unwavering belief in a person actually help propel them towards success?
I believe this to be true. I have personally been in a number of situations where it appears as though a protege simply needs someone else to believe in them... and, perhaps most, to believe in them even when they can't believe in themselves.
I am hopefully always learning more about myself. It is one of my constant projects: to figure out why I act the way I do. One thing I have learned is that I'm so confined within my own skin that it's often a Sisyphean battle to even understand WHAT I'm doing half the time, as most of my movements have become completely rote programming. But every once in awhile something breaks through, and a light bulb turns on.
I imagine I'm like one of those Lite-Brite machines from the 80's... eventually -- just maybe, someday -- I can light up enough LED's to actually get a complete picture of me.
At the nonprofit I work with, we're currently looking for a person to take over our one of our departments. I've learned that I have an overwhelming tendency to be extremely optimistic when it comes to people. I always think they can accomplish great things, often more than they may even think. But at the same time, I've learned that a myopic view of only seeing "potential" and not necessarily "reality" can also have a dangerous edge. I know how crucial it is to have the "right people on the bus" and that making a hasty decision on the front end is a very costly error, in more ways than just financially.
But as we look to add people to our staff, or to grow the participants we already have for that matter, isn't it more dangerous to set expectations too low, instead of too high?
In any kind of relational setting, be it an organization or a friendship or a marriage, isn't there just something about the complete audacity of hope (to quote that other guy); hope that each person involved can change and grow and become more than they currently are?
Isn't there just something grand about always looking for the best in people instead of expecting the worst?
The greater danger for most of us is not that we aim too high and miss it. Rather, it is that we aim too low and reach it." — Michelangelo//
By Tim Ferriss (excerpt from The 4-Hour Work Week)
I had to bribe them. What other choice did I have?
My lecture at Princeton had just ended with smiles and enthusiastic questions.
At the same time, I knew that most students would go out and promptly do the opposite of what I preached. Most of them would be putting in 80-hour weeks as high-paid coffee fetchers unless I showed that the principles from class could actually be applied.
Hence the challenge.
I was offering a round-trip ticket anywhere in the world to anyone who could complete an undefined "challenge" in the most impressive fashion possible. Results plus style. I told them to meet me after class if interested, and here they were, nearly 20 out of 60 students.
The task was designed to test their comfort zones while forcing them to use some of the tactics I teach. It was simplicity itself: contact three seemingly impossible-to-reach people — J Lo, Warren Buffett, Bill Clinton, J.D. Salinger, I don't care — and get at least one to reply to three questions...
Of 20 students, all frothing at the mouth to win a free spin across the globe, how many completed it?
Exactly... none. Not a one.
//
Bigger Goals = Less Competition
There were many excuses: "It's not that easy to get someone to...", "I have a big paper due, and...," "I would love to, but there's no way I can..." There was but one real reason, however, repeated over and over again in different words: it was a difficult challenge, perhaps impossible, and the other students would out-do them. Since all of them overestimated the competition, no one even showed up.
According to the default-win rules I had set, if someone had sent me no more than an illegible one-paragraph response, I would have been obligated to give them the prize. This result both fascinated and depressed me.
The following year, the outcome was quite different.
I told this cautionary tale and six out of 17 finished the challenge in less than 48 hours. Was the second class better? No. In fact, there were more capable students in the first class, but they did nothing. Firepower up the wazoo and no trigger finger.
The second group just embraced what I told them before they started, which was...
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Doing the Unrealistic is Easier Than Doing the Realistic
From contacting billionaires [here’s how one reader did it] to rubbing elbows with celebrities—the second group of students did both—it's as easy as believing it can be done.
It's lonely at the top. 99% of the world is convinced they are incapable of achieving great things, so they aim for the mediocre middle-ground. The level of competition is thus fiercest for "realistic" goals, paradoxically making them the most time- and energy-consuming. It is easier to raise $10,000,000 than it is $1,000,000. It is easier to pick up the one perfect 10 in the bar than the five 8s.
If you are insecure, guess what? The rest of the world is too. Do not overestimate the competition and underestimate yourself. You are better than you think.
Unreasonable and unrealistic goals are easier to achieve for yet another reason.
Having an unusually large goal is an adrenaline infusion that provides the endurance to overcome the inevitable trials and tribulations that go along with any goal. Realistic goals, goals restricted to the average ambition level, are uninspiring and will only fuel you through the first or second problem, at which point you throw in the towel.
If the potential payoff is mediocre or average, so is your effort. I'll run through walls to get a catamaran trip through the Greek islands, but I might not change my brand of cereal for a weekend trip through Columbus, Ohio. If I choose the latter because it is "realistic," I won't have the enthusiasm to jump even the smallest hurdle to accomplish it. With beautiful, crystal-clear Greek waters and delicious wine on the brain, I'm prepared to do battle for a dream that is worth dreaming. Even though their difficulty of achievement on a scale of 1-10 appears to be a 2 and a 10 respectively, Columbus is more likely to fall through.
The fishing is best where the fewest go, and the collective insecurity of the world makes it easy for people to hit homeruns while everyone else is aiming for base hits. There is just less competition for bigger goals.
(Excerpted from The 4-Hour Work Week by Tim Ferriss)
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