|
The Shifting Sands of Life and Work
While our culture thrives on mountain-climbing metaphors, it’s the
desert that gets real about life and the workplace.
We live and work in a mountain-climbing culture.
We want to see the peak, map out a route, and follow it straight to
the top—our metaphors for goal-setting and goal-getting our way
through our lives and careers.
Real life, however, often defies this climb-and-conquer approach.
That’s because most of our experiences actually resemble a desert. We
get lost or stuck, and even chase the occasional mirage. From raising
kids to plotting our careers, we find few clear routes or identifiable
peaks. The journey, it seems, is endless.
A Saharan adventure
I learned plenty about the desert as a kid fresh out of high school in
Toledo, Ohio. With the starry-eyed notion of backpacking through
Europe, I sailed for France. A chance encounter in Paris changed my
travel plans—and, ultimately, my life. With two Frenchmen and my buddy
Tallis, I embarked on an overland odyssey across the Sahara—the
world’s largest desert—that, over the course of 49 days and some 4,500
miles, would become the adventure of a lifetime.
In the Sahara, I learned it’s impossible to know exactly where you’re
going or how you’ll get there, much less when you’ve arrived. While
the summit of Mt. Everest is unmistakable, the Sahara offers no
sure-fire sign of arrival—no peak, no sign, no border. In fact,
experts can’t even agree where the desert ends.
And so it is with the deserts of life and work. Unlike our mountains,
we can’t conquer them. With no precise paths or peaks, our deserts
resist planning, preparation, and even past experience.
Think of it this way: Planning a wedding is a mountain, but being
married
is a desert. Having a baby is a mountain, but raising a child is a
desert. Changing jobs is a mountain, but changing careers is a desert.
Getting the promotion is a mountain, but being a leader is a desert.
Acquiring a competitor is mountain, but merging two cultures is a
desert.
Got the picture? I’m sure you do.
A matter of terrain
Why is it important to distinguish between mountains and deserts? The
rules of travel vary greatly depending on the terrain.
You see, what works on Mt. Everest is useless in the Sahara. On the
desert’s scorching and shifting sands, wearing stiff alpine boots or
plotting a start-to- finish route spells trouble.
The same goes for our personal deserts. When we’re lost or stuck, our
mountain-climbing methods simply don’t work. There’s no map or
route—no planning or preparation—for a desert such as marriage,
divorce, parenting, job loss, or chronic illness. To travel wisely, we
must follow a different set of rules—a guiding force that asks us to
be more patient, more spontaneous, and more intuitive.
The rules of desert travel
In the Sahara, the best way to cool a car’s overheating engine is to
turn the heater on full-blast and keep driving.
Indeed, the rules of desert travel are surprisingly counterintuitive.
They’re also chock-full of life lessons for a mountain-climbing
culture with “summit fever”—a do-or-die fixation on ascent and
arrival.
Let 10 such rules be a guide for crossing your own deserts in life and
at work. They’ll help you find meaning and direction in the uncertain,
unpredictable terrain.
Follow a compass, not a map.
In the Sahara, a map is worthless. A compass, however, is essential.
Across the shifting and featureless terrain, it functions without
fail—even amidst pitch darkness and relentless sandstorms. In the
deserts of life, you must learn to follow your own compass—an
innermost sense of purpose and direction. Start with a personal
mission statement—something that really matters to you, such as a
value or a relationship—then allow it to guide you.
Lower your gaze.
In the Sahara, looking ahead to the horizon is defeating. It never
gets any closer—no matter what the mirage. In the deserts of life,
focusing on your endless plans and to-do lists is just as defeating.
Instead, pay attention to the sand beneath your feet. Try to live in
the fullness of the moment rather than the potential of the future.
Make a “to-be” list of small, satisfying things that aren’t about
achievement or arrival.
Stop pushing.
In the Sahara, it’s pointless to push a car that’s stuck in the sand.
Instead, you deflate the tires, which actually lifts the vehicle up
and out of the sand. In the deserts of life, it’s pointless to keep
pushing when your tried-and-true success strategies no longer work.
Instead, lift yourself out of a rut or a stalemate by letting the air
out of your ego. If your legendary charm no longer wins over friends
or colleagues, try something new—like apologizing or admitting you’re
wrong.
Water what’s dry.
In the Sahara, a camel can guzzle twenty-five gallons of water in an
instant if he’s gone without a drink for a couple of weeks. In the
deserts of life, you can go without the essentials for a while, but
sooner than later you must water what’s dry. What part of your life is
parched? Need more sleep? Rather than tackle one more to-do, take a
nap. Need more solitude? Book a weekend retreat.
Know when to duck.
In the Sahara, it’s okay to duck. If your camel walks under a
low-hanging branch, why not dodge the blow? In the deserts of life,
it’s okay to avoid a hit you’re not ready for. It’s not denial or
cowardice—it’s common sense. Is the new boss a perfectionist? Let go
of his feedback if you don’t measure up at first. Afraid of commitment
after a bad break-up? Play the field until you’re good and ready to
face your fears.
Build a wall around your oasis.
In the Sahara, the wall around an oasis keeps out the sandstorms and
the barbarians. In the deserts of life, firm boundaries protect your
personal time for rest and reflection. Unplug the phone. Leave the
laptop behind. Say “no.”
Look for unmarked oases.
In the Sahara, there are secret wells that produce cold, carbonated
water. In the deserts of life, some of the sweetest oases are
unmarked. While it’s good to plan your downtime, don’t overlook the
serendipitous opportunities to rest and rejuvenate. When your plane is
delayed, head to a massage kiosk for a neck rub. When your teenager
suddenly wants to talk, push what’s in front of you aside and listen.
Travel alone together.
In the Sahara, a convoy travels faster when each vehicle takes care of
its own repairs. When one vehicle breaks down, the others keep moving.
If it doesn’t make it to camp by nightfall, a search begins in the
morning. In the deserts of life, you must seek a fine balance of
solitude and support. Some of the journey must be made alone. Yet
other times, when you’re stuck or defeated, you must ask for help.
Discernment— knowing what you need, when you need it—is key.
Seek support sooner—or risk rescue later.
In the Sahara, you can die of thirst in as little as twelve hours. No
one waits to run out of water before they ask for help. In the deserts
of life, asking for support isn’t always easy, yet putting it off can
make matters worse. Need time with your spouse? Ask a friend to watch
the kids. Feel lost in your new job? Find a guide or mentor.
Get lost.
In the Sahara, some tribes take their young men deep into the desert,
only to leave them to find their own way home. In the deserts of life,
getting lost can actually help you find your way. Put yourself in a
situation in which your known skills will be of little use. You’ll
boost your tolerance for uncertainty and tap some new skills and
strengths.
Steve Donahue is a professional speaker who specializes in individual
and organizational change, purposeful living, and life balance. He is
author of Shifting Sands: A Guidebook for Crossing the Deserts of
Change (Berrett-Koehler, $16.95). Contact him at www.stevedonahue.com.
Copyright 2004 Steve Donahue. All rights reserved.
|
