Sometimes I get distracted and discouraged. Maybe you do to—most of us do. Call it intellectual drifting where we lose sight of where and how we intend to create and sustain meaningful impact with the people we love and teams we lead.
Summer is the drifting season. The “lazy days of summer” invite us to take it easy. Planning for relaxation to reenergize is vital to sustained impact and is much different from intellectual drifting. Drifting is losing touch with our most important roles.
I was intrigued. How could anyone not be interested in understanding why even 24 people responded to the ad. The ad placement drew 2.7 million views, which is not a surprise. What was surprising was the fact that 24 people inquired about the toughest job in the world and participated in an interview.
The job title, Director of Operations, was certainly appealing. But after a quick review of the job requirements it is easy to see why even the most ambitious candidates quickly moved on.
Would you like to be better or get better? There is a subtle but powerful difference between the two.
Who doesn’t want to be better—right? No one would object to waking up tomorrow and being better in every role and responsibility in their life. So asking if you want to be better is an irrelevant question because the answer is obviously yes.
Do you make too much of stuff that doesn’t really matter? I know I have. How is it that what we embrace as vital, urgent and important at a given moment clouds our perspective on what is truly important?
This past weekend we may have witnessed one of (if not) the greatest Super Bowl game in history. Tom Brady and the New England Patriots engineered the ultimate comeback in Super Bowl history to send the game into overtime.
I like questions. I don’t mind tough questions especially if I am the one doing the asking. In the midst of preparing to deliver a program on creating impact, the question of personal mission kept popping up.
My promise was to deliver a simple process that people could grasp, participate and apply. Simple is always good—right? It is good but the truth is, simple does not mean easy.
Did he say what I thought he said? He most certainly did. He called it, “a phenomenon.” It is most certainly an annual event. But to call it a phenomenon would be overstating it.
A phenomenon is defined as an unusual, significant, or unaccountable fact or occurrence; a marvel or remarkable occurence. So it is clearly not a phenomenon. You might argue it is significant (it is), but remarkable—unfortunately not.
Starting is easy—it’s finishing that is difficult. You’ve been there. We’ve all been there. One lap, one quarter, one period to go. How you finish is what separates a good legacy from a great one.
When the finish line comes into view it can give rise to a range of emotions—especially if the stakes are high and the important people in our life are counting on us.
Did you know, “Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence.”
Erma Bombeck called it and added, “Any man who watches three football games in a row should be declared legally dead.” Welcome to Thanksgiving—a day filled with food, football and a hopefully a side of gratitude.
May I have your attention please? Please, can I have your attention for a brief moment? In a world of digital distractions, brief is sometimes not even long enough for someone to read a headline. Today, the ability to get and maintain focus is waning and it is robbing you.
Our inability to focus and concentrate on important relationships and goals is a critical! It may be the primary obstacle to creating and sustaining meaningful personal and professional impact.
What are the five greatest days of your life? If you are a parent—with few exceptions—your list will most certainly include the day you welcomed a child into the world. Welcoming a child into the world is woven together with amazing, magical and scary.
A day engrained in your memory and brought back to life every time you think about the flood of emotions that swept over you the first time you held your son or daughter.