No more than 10 years old, the boy runs out of the surf with his new boogie board tucked firmly under his arm.

With a beaming smile, he shouts, “Dad, did you see me?”

And, during my daily barefoot run on the beach, as I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, I realize how much I yearn to ask my dad, long-since-passed from this life, that very same thing.

It’s amazing how young we are when we develop that hunger for affirmation from outside ourselves; how critical it is to developing our self-esteem. Yet, it can be our undoing if we don’t learn to affirm ourselves and gain assurance and re-assurance from the inside out.

I can still remember my dad teaching us the importance of inner-affirmation at a very young age.

I can hear his loving words, “Son, open your hand and spread your fingers wide and count ‘em.

If, when you die, you can count your close friends on one hand, consider yourself fortunate.”

Surrounded by his lifelong friends at the services for his final good-bye, it brought home the reality of that lesson. And in my own life, I count my friends (many of whom have grown from clients to friends over the years) among my greatest blessings.

And so I used that counsel when I eulogized my dad’s passing in October 1997.

And wept.

Knowing his in-person counsel, and love, would be gone forever.

That, and many words of wisdom, coaching and encouragement, prevailed over the years of our lives together as father and son.

Another ‘Dad-ism’ – Grinning when I’d done something well, scored a goal in soccer, celebrated closing night in a school play or figured out how to get my car engine running again, he would sit in his chair and say, “Stand up and put your arms and hands straight out in front of you.

Now, wrap your right hand around in front and reach back over your left shoulder and grab your ‘angel bone’ (as we called our shoulder blades back then). Now, do the same with your left arm, and squeeze as tightly as you can.

Someday, when I’m not around, and no one else is there to pat you on the back, and you’ve done something you’re pleased about, you’ll always be able to hug yourself and pat yourself on the back, and know that you always have it within you to appreciate who you are and what you’ve done.”

How did he know his ‘arm-chair’ philosophy (pun intended – my dad would have liked that!) would shape my life’s work, my career, my relationship with the people I coach, train and team-build?

Along with a team of professional colleagues, I just produced a movie about how folks today can deal with our changing world in light of changes happening on our planet. [More on this new movie in my next blog, or, for an early look, check it out on YouTube, titled, “Answering the Call.”]

We brought together community, business and government leaders, along with world-renowned scientists, to talk about the impacts and opportunities that come from a region, a nation and a world facing drought, extreme weather, changing seas and other realities of our changing climate.

Whether you ‘believe’ (a term I’m told is like ‘believing’ whether or not the earth revolves around the sun – a concept still disputed by 24% of folks surveyed annually who still ‘believe’ the sun revolves around the earth) in a changing climate doesn’t matter; what does is that our world is changing. What matters is what we do about it, and how we work together, for future generations.

What’s this got to do with my dad? And a 10-year old boy on the beach?

Well, we just released the movie. And I was proud to be a part of a group of people – liberal, conservative, practical, theoretical, and all very smart – who came together to work on this production.

As I breathed in during my daily beachfront run, and saw this boy with that big (and hopeful) smile on his face, anticipating his dad’s acknowledgement – the proverbial ‘pat-on-the-back’ – I thought about my dad, and wondered if he’d be proud of me, too.

What would he say?

Would he give me that hug and pat on the back?

And remind me I could reach out my arms and do that when he was gone?

And in that little boy’s face, a stranger whom I will never know, I saw my own.

So many years ago, looking for my loving father, and then again, today.

Saying, “Dad, did you see me?”

An adorable Vietnamese ‘granny’ and I were comparing Cymbidiums.

We stood peering into the racks to see which we liked the most. And at various specimens that presented their blooms.

How to decide? Which to choose? No discussion. Just communicating non-verbally.

She must have seen my eyes drift to the one she was holding. I’ll never know.

“Okay, good-bye,” she says, as her opening comment.

I step away, surprised that she spoke, her having reached out with her arms with the most beautiful specimen in the store; the one she likes and has been holding the entire time.

“You take this one!” She sort of proclaims, almost commands it. And her proclamation touches my heart somewhere deep and unsettled.

She doesn’t see the tears well-up in my eyes.

Memories rush in.

As I turn my head, I’m transported back to 1969.

War escalating.

A country torn apart.

Two countries.

Innocent people dying.

And my friends, brothers… going off to fight. And die.

Protesting in the streets, “Stop this craziness!”

Quitting college.

Walking out in the middle of Accounting 101, studying to be a stock broker.

Just having returned from Woodstock, a musical interlude, symbol of the peace movement and a brief moment in time in-between the fighting, protests and confusion.

No more war.

Leaving my scholarship and plans behind. Knowing, somehow, my path needed to be different. Changed forever.

Looking for life’s meaning.

Now, in my coaching and teambuilding, a major emphasis on ensuring, as we engage in dialogue today, we be mindful of our need to be ‘right,’ rather than doing the right thing. The importance of avoiding the ‘right/wrong’ paradigm (if one side is right, the other must be wrong).

Realizing how much of my work is affected by these memories.

And then, seeing her standing in front of me, again, back in 2015.

And in her weathered face… seeing family members lost. Forever.

And almost 50 years later we stand side-by-side.

At Costco.

In America.

Her new home; her adopted country.

One I take for granted.

Comparing Cymbidiums.

And sharing love, and maybe even memories, and a kindness, on a moment of crossed paths.

Silently.

And the tears won’t stop.

We thought we had been completely clear on our dinner order. Then everything quickly tumbled out of control, with tempers flaring and a rush headlong into the ‘right/wrong’ paradigm I teach about in my coaching and teambuilding training. “Okay, here it comes,” I thought to myself, as others around the table seemed to grasp for help.

The story.

We started out for our last dinner with the team I was training in Florida. I’ve been working with them for over a dozen years, so lots of history and warm camaraderie around the big round table. We asked, given it was an unusually nice French restaurant in seemingly the middle-of-nowhere, if anyone wanted or had ever tasted escargot. With mixed replies, some willing to try, some salivating and others with a nonverbal cue to keep it far from their plate, we asked the delightful French waiter – a short, squat, grey-haired 70-plus year-old gentleman who spoke his English with a great French accent – right out of central casting, if we might have enough escargot to share among nine of us. He wrote it down and disappeared into the kitchen.

The wine was selected, conversation deepened, time passed and out came the owner of the restaurant with nine separate servings of a half-dozen escargot in each dish!

Eyes widened around the table (no one of the decliners lurched for the restroom, however you could see it in their faces) and the nonverbal responses entered into a din of dialogue that quickly turned to finger-pointing!

“Who ordered all this escargot?” “I didn’t want any.” “We can’t eat all this!” The noise level rapidly shot up. And, of course, the level of ‘listening’ went down right along with the comprehension. After a brief point, everyone turned to me and begged, “Steve, you’re our facilitator, please fix this!”

I turned to the owner and said, “There’s been a misunderstanding. We wanted enough escargot to share among nine of us, not separate servings of nine each.” To which he replied, “No, you did not.”

Our journey begins.

I suggested, due to the miscommunication, how about he leave us with four or five of the servings, to which our delightful French waiter replied something along the lines of “You are wrong! You absolutely ordered nine servings.” (My command of French is slight; my study and reading of human body language allows me to conclude there are certain universal ‘words’ that are clear no matter the spoken word!)

He pointed to his pad and with great emotion told us we CLEARLY ordered nine servings of escargot.

At least the point of this post should be clear by now. How quickly communication can be confused, how miscommunication can arise. And how quickly we jump to that ‘right/wrong’ paradigm (if I am right, you must be wrong, and vice versa).

Of course, once the dialogue (shouting, pleading, etc.) settled down, and the Frenchman came over to me and confided how difficult it was to work for the owner, who was often quick to allow his temper to rise, and how much trouble he was in, I assured him we would do all possible to help.

After time passed and temperatures cooled, and the main courses were delivered and deemed with perfection, I called over the waiter and announced that we’d had the best service of any of our experiences while gathered in this little corner of the world, and felt a part of our Frenchman’s family. Our group gave him a loud, heartfelt round of applause, to which everyone in the restaurant turned to see what was happening. We thanked him profusely for his patience with our language, and left him with a warmth and gratitude that was as important to us as it was to him.

I brought him close and whispered to him that I would talk to the owner and explain as well.

When the owner came by at the end of the meal to ask how it was, we told him, out of everywhere we’d been (the irony being we had other dinner plans and only selected his because the place we were going didn’t seem suitable), this was truly the best, and what made it so was our delightful, personable, engaging and dedicated waiter, who, in spite of the miscommunication, OUR miscommunication, made our evening the most memorable of all.

Ms. Communication actually turned into a great hostess who gave each of us – team members, waiter and owner – a glimpse into our own ability to unwittingly make communication blunders. It became a positive experience in how, instead of seeking blame, fault or cause, we may instead focus on the desired outcomes and the purpose of our communication. We even perceived the broader context of why and how we were gathered together and the potential to learn from one another and our circumstances.

When we move to cause and blame, we too often lose sight of the bigger picture. And everyone goes away a loser. With a less-than-positive experience and a ‘having-missed-something’ outcome.

Our French waiter became our teacher. We, part of the classroom that now extended from the retreat center to our evening dinner. Each of us was in some way affected, appreciative and better for it.

What’s happened in your life recently where Ms. Communication has visited? Where are the opportunities, in both big and small ways, to take a breath, self-reflect and find your way, with others, to better understanding, patience, insight and growth?

We all have those ‘escargot’ moments in our lives. Keep searching for how you can better approach the moment so the outcome leaves everyone satisfied, even enriched for having been a part of the experience.

Together.

P.S. If you’re curious about how we actually resolved the escargot quandary, let us know!

I’m not sure who said that. My brother has reminded me of it in many of our conversations.

The more professional coaching work I do these days, the more I remind others of it as well.

We seem to want to focus on what others need to do. To make us happy. To give us what we want. To change to make our lives more comfortable. Easier. Less complicated or conflicted. And yet it’s these very expectations that leave us feeling like we didn’t get what we wanted.

As the old Zen lesson reminds us, “Have no expectations, get no disappointments.” What if we lived a day without expecting anything from anyone else in our lives? Instead, what if we asked ourselves what we might do to bring pleasure, peace of mind, some small gesture of caring and concern to others in our lives?

With friends last evening I watched the movie “About Time,” a delicate romantic comedy with a science fiction time-travel twist. One touching moment, upon realizing there were limits to his time travel, our protagonist had to learn something from his father (brilliantly performed by the masterful Bill Nighy).

Though he had the ability to travel to anywhere in the past, instead of looking for the big moments, instead live each day twice, once as he lived it and once again, going back and looking for those moments within each day to find and give to others some simple pleasure, some small opportunity for happiness in between the spaces of what we normally live through in the course of a day.

How the day changed. No expectations. No disappointments. Beyond that, giving without expecting to ‘get’ something in return.

Can you live a day like that? At work? Home? In line at the coffee shop while you’re in a hurry to get to where you need to be next? In spite of the problems or challenges you’re facing? Or the ‘important’ work you’re doing? Or the many things on that long list of ‘To Dos” you need to get to?

Now. Today.

I know we’re all busy. How many times do I find myself rattling off a list of all the important things I’m doing with clients when others ask how I’m doing.

What if you took a day and made a conscious effort to expect nothing from anyone or anything. And instead focused on how you might fulfill someone else’s needs and desires. For a conversation. An extra bit of comfort. Time. Care. Love.

I’m going to give it a try today. How about you?

In the cacophony of this intense political season in the US, it’s worth taking a pause from all the noise to reflect on the values that matter in our lives. It’s easy to get caught up in the ‘rightness’ or ‘wrongness’ of this stuff. Even more, to become ‘righteous’ about it.

Hence, why the story I shared last time about this humble man named Sixto Rodriguez must have captured the imaginations and yearning in so many. I can’t otherwise explain everything that’s happened since.

We received so many responses to the last post about the amazing documentary about Sixto Rodriguez, it seemed a sequel was in order. And for those who thought it was just a movie review, this man’s amazing story serves as an inspiration to all of us who work, live, socialize and otherwise interact with others of the human species!

The story of Rodriguez is almost unbelievable of itself. What has happened in the short time since my last post is, to me, even more so. First, I sent my blog to one of the documentary’s main characters, Stephen Segerman, the person who really ‘started it all’ with his search for Rodriguez. Turns out there was a connection there with one of our strategic partners, Orit Ostrowiak, who was born and raised in South Africa, and who is a worldwide speaker, coach and professional development trainer. We discovered Stephen and Orit shared the same tennis club in Johannesburg (albeit a few years apart).

Stephen posted our blog on the official “Searching for Sugar Man” website, commenting that he felt it captured the spirit of Rodriguez and what they were trying to express through the movie.

Now, just a couple of weeks later, the latest news is this story appearing in The Wrap, was forwarded to me by my friend and Cinema Society of San Diego director Andy Friedenberg. The story’s title is, “‘Searching for Sugar Man’ Rodriguez: From Poverty to Carnegie Hall.” It’s a must-read and gives additional insight into why I was so inspired by this man’s story.

Now, it turns out, ’60 Minutes’ will feature a story about his incredible journey on Sunday, 7 October 2012.

I can’t help but continue to feel inspired by this story. I’ve come across numerous others who were in some way touched by his music, his life, and now this unfolding story. He is playing to sold-out venues throughout the country and is touching a part in all of us through his gentle, quiet, humble notions about his newly-reclaimed fame.

Worth a listen, worth a look; I encourage you to check-out his story. There’s a message in it that’s timely. And maybe, for if even for a short time, it will take you away from all the ‘stuff’ that tends to take over when we’re on the fast track of our typically full and often over-stimulated lives.

If nothing else, I promise you’ll have ‘met’ a man who’s a modern-day soul that simply defines humility in a way I’ve not heard or seen in a long time.

Every now and then a film comes along that, from what you hear about it, promises a morsel of wisdom, insight and perhaps a message that will affect us and endure beyond its hour and 30 minutes. “Searching for Sugar Man” starts out as more than a morsel – soon delivering the whole cake – and ends up a banquet of emotions, messages and motivation that leaves no human heart untouched.

When I received the email from my dear friend and Cinema Society of San Diego Director Andy Friedenberg early Friday morning, I thought, “Hmmm, it’s rare that he’ll drop me a note this clearly telling me to see a flick, so it must be good.” I checked and found the local showings and set aside the afternoon to see what the buzz was about.

Wow!

A small film about a songwriter musician with the talent of Bob Dylan and the gentle tenderness of a holy man, the story of Rodriguez will leave you in a daze long after the last of the credits roll. In fact, the theatergoers sat silently after the film, and much like the character memorialized in our hearts in that hour and a half, shuffled out in solemn reflection of what they just experienced.

Searching for Sugar Man is about the human spirit, humility and a brand of self-deprecation reserved for saints. You have to see the picture to understand it. And you have to experience it to receive the gift of the personal lessons it may hold for you.

You’ll probably never see Rodriguez, and the film that portrays his life, at the Academy Awards. Unless they include a new category for the Most Creative and Inspirational Film of the Year.

In today’s world, filled with so many recent senseless shootings, unpredictable violence, worldwide turmoil, economic uncertainty, name-calling and blaming, we find Rodriguez, and the many other real-life characters who fill the screen, to be refreshingly honest, open, and heroes in small, special and powerful ways.

The backdrop is the early 70s, an era in South Africa when apartheid was at its peak. Juxtaposed in a way that makes sense when you see the movie, the Detroit music scene, this talented, gifted musician and the songs he writes take on a meaning extending far beyond his failed commercial journey. It heralds the beginning of white South African anti-establishment awareness, since the National Party government heavily censored all media.

We ask ourselves, “Why we didn’t know about this?” And it helps us to remember that, even today, we get so caught up in the business of our own small worlds that we forget we are part of something bigger than ourselves. That there is a connectedness to things beyond our immediate sphere.

A common theme to my posts has been the encouragement, the urging, to take the time to look around, to see and appreciate the experiences of others, to touch deeply those around us, to hear their hearts and share their struggles… and their successes.

The irony of what happens in Rodriguez’s life, and how he and his family handle it, is a lesson for us all. The lesson is timeless, and it crosses generations, cultures, economies and countries. Each of us, in some way, big or small, affects the lives of others. Each of us has an opportunity to pause, take a moment and be present for those we love, those with whom we live, work and socialize.

Sometimes it doesn’t even require much more than a few simple words. A touch. A notion that someone matters. And that’s worth acknowledging. Who knows? You may leave a lasting impression, affecting someone in ways you can’t imagine. You can even change their world.

Just like Rodriguez.

I recently attended another Cinema Society of San Diego event run by my friend Andy Friedenberg. I’m not sure how he does it; his timing is impeccable when it comes to delivering movies just right for our times. Thanks, Andy!

After posting my recent blog about dysfunctional group dynamics, and receiving so many responses about how useful it was to folks, personally and professionally, Andy delivered with a touching, tender, poignant and timely movie called “Being Elmo” that was right on point!

So, why Elmo? The movie (releasing late December 2011, and you won’t want to miss it) is about an eight-year-old boy’s dream; a dream to become a puppeteer. More than that, it’s about the soul of this boy and how his character, whom we later learn is Elmo, reaches full expression in his life. Through Elmo, he touches a world of children and adults with love, compassion and care. His message is one of acceptance without judgment. No labels, criticism, put-downs or name-calling. How refreshing. And how timely.

The heart and soul of Kevin Clash, the tender, compassionate, caring boy whose dream actually becomes Elmo, is the heart and soul of this character we see develop on screen. We learn how congruent this is for Kevin and Elmo’s lives, if you will. By the way, Kevin is not a ventriloquist, putting a voice into a lifeless puppet, he’s a real, live human being putting his own heart and soul into Elmo. Touching lives. Caring. Carrying a message that says, “We’re basically all alike, regardless of who we are and where we come from; take the time to see that in others, see their dreams and hopes, and encourage and care for them.”

I never watched Sesame Street, Elmo’s home, only because I was from a different era. Learning about Kevin Clash, and his “Elmo,” gave me an appreciation for how much we could use his message in our tension-filled world, and in our distracted lives. How much we could all use a little compassion, unconditional acceptance and positive regard.

And maybe a re-visit to Sesame Street.

One of the many benefits of Cinema Society is we often meet the writers, directors, actors, producers and others connected with a film. We did that night. And also met 51-year-old Kevin Clash, who fulfilled his dream, and still carries that heart and soul on his sleeve, and, of course, in Elmo.

Listening to him talk, watching him connect with the audience, both in and out of character, was an inspiration. I’d like to take him to a few meetings with me; the tough ones I facilitate, where opinions and egos get in the way of sharing, caring and collaborative, mutual gains problem-solving. Kevin (in the character of Elmo) has a lot to say, and do, to help us in these challenging times, when communication has become so tragically dysfunctional.

I walked away that night with a refreshing sense of hope. I was touched by Kevin, even more, his Elmo. And it made me wonder if he couldn’t inspire in all of us a little more, to find that place in our hearts and souls, for reaching out to someone, friend or foe, and practicing in our own lives a little more… of Being Elmo!

A common issue in my work with boards and chief executives is the challenge of micromanaging. It’s something that happens as well with parents, supervisors, co-workers, peers and others. What’s at the root of it all and how do we know when it’s happening? Truth be told, micromanagers are often aware of what they’re doing; like any addictive behavior, they just can’t seem to help themselves!

If you’re a micromanager, ask yourself what the underlying emotion is that drives the behavior. Using the ‘think, feel and do’ exercise from an earlier post, call a meeting with yourself. How we act is more a result of what we feel rather than what we think. If we’re ‘feeling’ frustrated, for example or overwhelmed and out of control, we’re more likely to ‘think’ we can ‘do’ something about the little things, and sometimes even the big ones, however, these are not often the important things.

So, we ‘manage’ the details instead of stepping back, recognizing what’s really going on…and most importantly, and letting go. Empowering, rather than managing, others.

We all have our tell-tale signs. I bet if you take that meeting with yourself, you’ll be able to write down a few of yours.

And if you’re the one being micromanaged, remember, it’s not about you! Work with your supervisor, board, spouse, parent and ask the more critical question: What is the result or outcome we need in this situation? Then, when you’ve created clarity about that, encourage the micromanager to empower you to come up with some acceptable solutions (not how you get there and myriad of details along the way!) and offer an agreeable timeline for delivering results.

Let me know how it goes next time you experiment with your new behavior!

Now there’s a defining moment. If you were to write your own epitaph, what would it say? Not just the facts about when and where you were born and died, the work you did, etc. You know, the statistical stuff. Instead, what are the defining words others would say about you? If we interviewed your colleagues, your peers, supervisors, and boss or board of directors, as well as the often nameless faces you encounter every day at work where you get your coffee, buy your gas and do your shopping, what would they say? How about your family and friends?

If you had the chance to stand up at the end of your life in front of a crowd of admirers, as well as those with whom you’ve had some of your greatest challenges, what might you tell them, what would you want them to know about you that maybe you didn’t, couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate while you were still around?

Okay, so here’s your growth challenge for the week. Come up with no more than three words that define you. Words that are real, not platitudes. Words that speak to the way you touch people’s lives every day… at work, at home, in your day-to-day interactions, both big and little. No more than three. And they have to be true, transparent and honest.

When you’re done, ask yourself if there’s any you’d change if you had to deliver that epitaph. Anything you’re not taking the time to do or be? If you find the three words that truly reflect what you value, what you’re doing and who you are, good for you. If not, you better get to work.

We never really know when some life-changing or life-ending event will be forced upon us. And then it’s too late.

Today is my dad’s birthday. He usually gets an early morning call from me to tell him how much I appreciate and love him. He and my mom have been a major influence in my life. They taught me how to accept others, and myself, for all the imperfections we encounter in our lifetimes. Especially our own. And they also taught me how to love… and not just those that are close and caring toward us, but those ‘stretch’ experiences. You know the kind. Loving the unlovable. We all get challenged by that, no matter what we do in our lifetimes. At least if we’re living authentically.

They also taught me how to pay attention to people that matter. People in our lives we sometimes just take for granted. That they’ll be there. And care. I’ll bet you have a few like that in your life. Have you noticed them lately? And thanked them?

We use a little exercise when training speakers how to communicate effectively and the importance of caring about their audience. This brief exercise helps them undertand the importance of what people really remember. It goes something like this: Name the five weathiest people in the world. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners. Name five people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize. Name the last five Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.

We give them a few minutes (without the help of Google!); most can remember maybe one or two in each category. Sometimes none. The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday and yet they are no second-rate achievers – they are the best in their fields. But facts fade along with our memories.

Then we ask them the following: List a few teachers who aided your journey through school. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special. Think of three people with whom you enjoy spending time.

Easer? Sure. The people who make a difference in our lives are generally not the most credentialed, richest or awarded. They are the ones that care.  The ones who made an impression.  We use this to help speakers understand the importance of being present and caring about their audience, and to understand that impressions are made by that and not the facts you tell them. I believe it’s also important as we move about our busy lives each day. After all, you never know how long, like an audience, the people that matter in our lives are going to stick around.

So take a moment, pick up the phone or make a special trip to reach out to someone that matters. Tell him how they affected you and why they matter. I promise it’ll enrich your life as well as theirs.

Something I wish each year I could still do on my dad’s birthday. Ever since he passed away years ago much too young in life.