“In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow: one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.”

Our waiter approached with a smile, and with that lovely, lyrical East Indian accent, looked at our candle and asked, “What is the peacock for?” “It’s not a peacock,” I think I sounded defensive, “It’s a turkey.” Unfazed, eyebrows still up, he continued, “What is the turkey for?”

We explained Thanksgiving to him and found an immediate ally who was clearly well-acquainted with the concept, and helped us to create an evening I’ll never forget.

Since that Thanksgiving, I have been delighted to cross paths with more and more East Indians, most of whom have come to my homeland as pilgrims. I respect that, like all pilgrims, “they are people journeying in a foreign land.” But what I love and am grateful for this Thanksgiving is that each one of these people makes me, and America, better.

What I see in people like Nick and Priya and Astha are some of the virtues and values I admire most: Bravery, sweet humor, ambition, balance, social intelligence, kindness and clarity. (I know there are probably annoying Indians, I just haven’t met any yet.)

In other words, having each one of these Indians in my life makes me a better pilgrim too. I loved the further definition of “pilgrim” I’ve placed below, and I hope it challenges and inspires you too this Thanksgiving Week.

        “To journey without being changed is to be a nomad.

        To change without journeying is to be a chameleon.

        To journey and be transformed by the journey is to be a pilgrim.”

Mark Nepo

Friday is my birthday. In fact it’s a particular birthday. I first thought about this one as a kid, “Someday, when I’m really really old, my birthday will be 11-11-11. I wonder who I’ll be, what I’ll do, where, how and with whom?”

Maybe questions like that have prompted me to use my 11-11’s through the decades since to do a soft little review of things. In recent years, I’ve written a one-page exercise to reflect on—and now I offer it to the amazing clients and coaches I work with. (I tend to work with kindred spirits who are as as deeply interested in sculpting a great life as I am. You’ve probably landed on my mailing list because you’re like that too.)

This month I’m including my exercise for you use the next time you are inspired to do your own “soft little review of things.”

What I know is this. When you find a way of following the moving, growing target of your own “sweet spot”, life becomes an adventure. And you begin to experience your own sense of “calling” for your years on the planet.

And that’s a blessing.

Click on the boat to go to “Finding Your Vocare Intersection”

Then he went on to talk about his dreams going forward for “Seattle’s 1st distillery since prohibition.” And then he thanked his customers and supporters and talked about how much fun he was having.

Malcolm Gladwell talks about mastery of anything requiring about 10,000 hours of focus, passion, practice, course corrections, set-backs and learning from experience. And I always add, “If you actually arrive at 10,000 hours, you are doing something you love and feel passionately about. No one could pay you to take the ride to mastery otherwise.”

So here’s a question as you launch into a new week:

Here’s one of mine—and I share it with you in hopes of hearing one of yours.

Ten years ago this week Kari and I and some good friends were in rural Tuscany learning to paint with water colors. Idyllic, huh? We were in the small hill town of Pienza when I sensed the mood in the central square of the village shifting from content and peaceful, to alarmed. People began to huddle, and I walked up to a fellow painter who had turned noticeably pale. “Our nation has been attacked,” she said quietly, uneasily. Nearby, I heard a soft Italian voice, “Tragedia.”

 

With no smart-phones to consult, we joined the cluster around a television in a nearby bar and watched the crash of the second airplane. Together–Italians, Americans and Australians and Brits—we stopped breathing and then we gasped and groaned. After a few minutes, noticing that the tv reporters were nearly as speechless as we were, an Englishman said to no one in particular, but to all of us, “There’s a chapel across the way. We should go pray.” And we did. Our little temporary, international tribe crossed the narrow street and entered a small church where hundreds of candles were already burning. And in my life, the calming, the making sense and the honoring began right there.

What’s your 9/11 story? I’ve never heard one that didn’t help me know the teller better. Even if (like me) you’re being careful to not watch too much media this week, I encourage you to tell your story—write a little bit about it on my blog, or just find a few of the people in your life who want to know you better and tell them.

Like me, you are wired for stories.

I’ve noticed through the years that their explorations—and mine!–usually land in eight categories. So those are the categories I stay current with. If you’re ready to turn off the media for a few minutes and dig into on one of those eight great categories yourself, I’ve just beefed-up the Best-Reads-Links-and-Podcasts page on my website.

Now what do I need to do to make this list go viral in Washington DC?

I bet you know the type. They cheer when you walk in, expect you to be your best most of the time and don’t write you off when you mess up. Not that they won’t tell you. And they would defend you in public. You share stories from years ago and talk about being younger next year.

I have long believed that the people most likely to be in my corner are the ones with whom I’ve worked hard, played hard or been scared to death. On purpose. These particular people qualify because for years I trained and competed with them as a competitive rower on Seattle’s big lakes.

So here’s my big coaching question this month: With whom are you intentionally working hard, playing hard or getting a little scared? People don’t just end up our corners via the passing of time. We earn them–and they earn us. Click here to read more.

I may need to get back on the water this summer. A little more work, a bit more play and a few good risks would help to keep fresh the treasure of these people in my corner.

For most of the hour, Peter Falk’s Columbo would watch and listen and take in information. And then he would pay a visit to the always-dapper-and-dismissive guest villain. Ever so gently, he would begin to muse about his conclusions. And then came the moment. Columbo would start to leave and then he would turn, pause, raise an index finger scrunch up his face and say, “Just one last thing . . .” This came just before he calmly explained to the bad guy what crime he’d committed and how he’d done it.

As a young woman watching in the 70′s, I watched and learned.

• Good things happen when you listen calmly with all of your senses,
• You can do good work and keep a light heart all at the same time,
• And conflict can be gentle and still effective.

Click here to see the master in action . . .

Rest in peace Mr. Falk.

If you don’t have time to just laugh, go to16:16. At that point, if you’re like me, you’ll stop and listen (for the next 7:31) to a good man who has just walked through his own reinvention. From necessity to a happy ending/new chapter. Cool stuff. 

Two topics are always front-and-center for me: How can we understand and solidly unleash our signature strengths, and what is the difference between change and compliance. Check out these two terrific (and easy) reads–both have inspired me.

1. Positivity by Barbara Fredrickson. This author is also a researcher who writes about the whats and hows of deliberately building a positive point of view. The pay-offs can be huge in our ability to be smarter, more resilient and have more access to our strengths and areas of mastery. Pretty readable for a researcher.

2. Switch by Chip Heath. This is the best book I’ve read this year on how people change–and how leaders can help them to.  The author borrows a very remember-able analogy that I will think of the next time try to give direction to a large, powerful, emotional, impulsive, intelligent animal (human or otherwise).

You can find these two and some of my other favorites on this page. Here comes the sun!