“I’ve got a question for you” said my friend Sunny Shah, while coaching me through the kickoff session for a set of short videos we’re doing, “What do you value?”
Gah. I knew the answer intuitively, but it really pissed me off that I struggled to articulate it.
“Let’s break for today,” I answered, “and I’ll write them out.”
Eight years ago, I wrote down a sort of guiding life objective. Its words have stuck, and its mental image is part of my daily meditation routine, but I never quite nailed down an articulation of the values that serve it. The objective is stated as this:
“Tilt the world towards good.”
“Tilt” is the key word. I’m probably not going to change the world, I’m unlikely to put a “dent” in its surrounding universe, and the tide is undefeated on wiping out any sandcastle of self-importance that I’ll build. But the world’s trajectory is something we all contribute to, knowingly or not (think: butterfly effect), and a slight tilt of that trajectory is something achievable that I can rally behind.
But what are the values by which I hike towards that objective?
After Sunny stumped me with his annoying question, I sat outside looking at the Chicago River, and this is what I wrote down:
- Don’t write a boring book.
- Drop good dimes.
- Integrity has no grey hairs.
- Hustle like a grandma.
- Be dad.
Let me elaborate…
1. Don’t write a boring book.
I’m talking about life, of course, but using the book metaphor: there’s already too much dry stuff on the library shelf, and for some reason our safe-minded human logic compels us to draw inside of the lines with grey crayons. As they say on the playground when the teacher isn’t looking: “that’s some boring a** s**t.”
But with this as a core value, I’m prompted to see the juicy stuff with a lens of appreciation, and to follow that pain-in-the-ass compass of doing the things I’m afraid of. Because more than any of those things that I may fear in the moment, I fear having written a boring book by the end of it all.
And besides, it’s not actually my book. I’m simply drafting a small page inside of a bigger manuscript. If my page is dry and dull, I’m only hampering the next writer of the next page. So, whatever the book becomes, I just can’t let it be boring.
2. Drop good dimes.
Lift others, pay it forward, lend a hand, recruit the next players up who’ll make their own good contributions to the “tilt”. It takes a team, and in the grand scheme of things my playing time will be up in like five minutes anyways. So, focus more on passing the ball than counting my points. Drop good dimes.
3. Integrity has no grey hairs.
If it feels like a grey area on the outskirts of “doing the right thing” – be it in business, sport, life, etc. – just don’t do it. The incremental gain is drowned out by the likely cost, and besides, who wants a “win” that has an asterisk on it? I do a lot of losing, but when I get that rare win, I want the opposition to know that I kicked its ass. So don’t be fooled by the wrinkly old swindler, integrity has no grey hairs.
4. Hustle like a grandma.
Like anyone else, my ancestors quite obviously had it tougher than me. They forged a tougher work ethic because of it, and I’ve become a tad soft up here on the cushion of their shoulders. So, while I’ll never match her greatness, I gotta wake up hellbent on hustlin’ like my grandma.
5. Be dad.
Tying a bow of simplicity: if seems like something Miles & Logan’s dad should or should not be doing, that’s the answer. If I don’t do some creative project because I’m afraid that it breaks the boring mold, then I’m only passing that fear down to them to be stuck in the same boring mold. If I don’t hustle like grandma to pass forward my time, energy, & resources into the world, then I’m only leaving behind more debt for my boys to deal with. Decisions get a lot simpler in this lens: I just gotta be dad.
