#limericksforjustice

There once was a power exec,
Who knew how to stack his own deck.
He schemed and he frauded,
Yet still he was lauded.
And it felt like a noose on our neck.

Time passed and the nightmare got real.
But kind souls continued to feel.
We fought for the good,
And our ground we all stood.
‘Til the liberty bell chose to peal.

For a moment the struggle was won.
The fighting and hating was done,
Until we learned more
And re-tallied the score.
Yet again our hard work was begun.

You see, our love flows through the years,
There is no real end, as we fear.
And so work endures;
We may not see the cure,
Though we offer our blood, sweat, and tears.

Regardless, we’re called to attend
The struggles that threaten to rend
The things we hold dear
And try hard to keep near.
It’s in our own hands, my friend.

WRITTEN ON DECEMBER 19, 2016 DURING ELECTORAL COLLEGE VOTING.

“We must use time creatively, and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy, and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Book Club: Rebecca

I picked up Rebecca with some hesitation. The cover’s feminine scrawl screams ROMANCE a little too loudly, and some critics have argued that the book deserves the label. For years, Rebecca was catalogued as a “romantic thriller” and treated with the according literary respect. However, it eventually morphed into a cult classic and now can defensibly claim feminist status.

The book’s evolving reception and it’s transcendence of categorization is more than a publication history. Its trajectory parallels that of its titular character, Rebecca, who is simultaneously larger than life and wholly obscure. Is she to be admired? Is she a dangerous influence, in death as in life? Or something else entirely? This ambiguity offers important lessons regarding perception, reputation, and, ultimately, success.

Rebecca, Perfect Predecessor

(SPOILERS.)

The narrator, a.k.a. the second Mrs. de Winter, lacks a first name and spends much of the book agonizing over her failure to fill the shoes of the first Mrs. de Winter, whose first name is everywhere in the novel: Rebecca. The second Mrs. de Winter longs for a love from her husband that would match his love for Rebecca, she regrets her inability to manage the house as adeptly as Rebecca, and she is self-conscious of her reputation, which cannot live up to Rebecca’s renown.

In fact, the weight of the narrator’s shortcomings burdens the first half of the book with a plodding ennui that was almost enough to turn this reader away. The narrator is not particularly likable, nor does she even seem to like herself. Every move and every decision she makes is haunted by the specter of Rebecca, and she exhibits minimal individuality, personality, or competence. It is easy for the reader to trust her perception of herself as not only the second, but also the lesser Mrs. de Winter.

In this, Rebecca perfectly captures the dangers of comparison. We err when we view competitors, predecessors, and colleagues as the exclusive measure of our own strengths and accomplishments. For both organizations and individuals, this myopia is destructive. It draws focus away from our most important work, erodes our self-confidence, and leads us to versions of success that don’t fit us at all.

Rebecca, Toxic Influence

(YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ABOUT THE SPOILERS.)

Eventually, the novel relates a plot twist that reinforces these lessons, when the narrator’s husband, Max de Winter, reveals his deep hatred for the precious Rebecca. Mr. de Winter informs the second Mrs. de Winter (and the reader) that Rebecca was not a perfect and irreplaceable wife, but a cold, cruel, and self-centered woman. He never loved Rebecca; rather, he despised her and perhaps even feared her.

This revelation is significant in two ways. First, it punctuates the danger of competitive comparison, particularly comparison in the absence of research and discernment. We never see the narrator question her assumptions about Rebecca. In fact, she actively ignores clues that her perception may be mistaken, e.g. her sister-in-law Beatrice’s subtle disdain for Rebecca’s memory. Had the narrator solicited opinions or asked questions, she would have spared herself a good deal of wasted time and energy. Rather, she assumes the worst and spirals into self-pity.

Second, Rebecca’s toxicity is a contagion, with a most notable victim in the traumatized Mrs. Danvers. Mrs. Danvers deep hatred of the second Mrs. de Winter not only influences her interactions with her new employer, but also drives her to openly destructive behavior. This aspect of the novel evokes tales of toxic managers whose harm lasts long beyond their last day of employment. The final scene, in which Mrs. Danvers sets fire to Manderley, illustrates the permanent damage that toxic legacies can cause. The “organization” of Manderley, could not survive Rebecca’s loyalists, even if it did survive Rebecca herself.

Rebecca, Noteworthy Iconoclast

(DID I MENTION THE SPOILERS?)

Ultimately, however, Rebecca defies both hagiography and demonization. This is the feminist reading: du Maurier tells the story of a complex woman who is misunderstood by both her greatest admirer and closest companion, Mrs. Daverly, and her nemesis and murderer, Max de Winter. What’s more, the second Mrs. de Winter’s character–the story’s narrator–is merely a reflection of Rebecca’s complicated glow.

Perhaps Rebecca was a woman who did things her own way, in a time when women simply didn’t do that. Her vivacity, her refusal to submit to marriage, and her determination to live and die on her own terms can be admired by modern readers. This interpretation helps to explain why the book, for all its substance, was largely disregarded as fluff when first released in 1938. Readers and critics alike failed to recognize du Maurier’s nuanced depiction of femininity–a theme that would be ahead of its time for decades.

This too has significance for visionary leaders, who are often building what others don’t yet understand. Visionaries, by definition, must challenge accepted best practice and operate outside their own comfort zones, much less the comfort zones of their colleagues, employees, bosses, customers, etc. They are driven not by acceptance, but by individuality, imagination, determination, and an ambition that transcends what is obviously possible.

Sometimes, the avant garde earns only penalties: misunderstanding, mistrust, and even scorn. At other times, creative vision is rewarded with longevity, legacy, and a kind of immortality. Visionaries are those brave enough take the chance–for better, for worse, or, as with du Maurier’s Rebecca, for both.

Advice That Rocks: My Sisters and Brothers

I love the space where Gospel and Rock come together. Gospel’s hopeful energy renders Rock’s indignation righteous. Rock’s aggressive edge brings the Gospel down to earth, where the action is. This happens beautifully in The Jerry Garcia Band’s delivery of Charles Johnson’s classic, My Sisters and Brothers.

Deadheads know that the songs written and covered by Garcia, JGB, and the Grateful Dead teem with biblical, literary, and historical allusions. They are nothing short of poetic, and Sisters and Brothers is no exception. The song laments the struggle for peace and justice, and it proclaims the promise of beloved community.

The work will not be easy; nor will it be futile.

I have recently been heartened to speak with many people who are fighting the good fight for justice: teachers, medical professionals, environmentalists. activists, progressive fundraisers, writers, nonprofit leaders, advocates for refugees, and more. These good people have dedicated their careers to the struggle. It has been my privilege to witness their efforts and support them where I can.

The good news is that we have a lot of boots on the ground. The bad news is that every single one of us feels uncertain. How should we proceed, in the wake of this election?

During this existential moment, should we lament, should we hope, or should we simply get busy? Moving forward without lamentation strikes me at best as naive, at worst as callous. Neglecting hope, on the other hand, may dissolve us into nihilism. So, we must simultaneously lament and hope. In this, we may find courage to do as Johnson bids and “go on at a steady pace.” Ceasing the work, however briefly, is not an option.

I want to say to my sisters and my brothers
Keep the faith
When the storm flies and the wind blows
Go on at a steady pace
When the battle is fought and the victory’s won
We can all shout together, we have overcome
We’ll talk to the Father and the Son
When we make it to the promised land.

Johnson’s song has both precedent in the civil rights movement and relevance today. It evokes Martin Luther King, Jr.’s reassuring yet radical claim, “the arc of the moral universe is long, and it bends towards justice.” According to King, the promise of justice is located squarely alongside past, present, and (yes, even…) future suffering. This paradox animates Johnson’s 1974 song as much as it does Gloria Steinem’s 2016 post-election plea, “Don’t mourn; organize.” All three examples — King, Johnson, and Steinem — reinforce the importance of determination that honors both battle and victory.*

In addition, both Sisters and Brothers and the JGB live collaboration illuminate the way forward: diversity.

Diversity is both means and end.

Thou shalt not be afraid
Of the terror by night
Nor the arrow that flies by day
Nor for the pestilence
That walketh in the darkness
Nor for the destruction
That waiteth in the noonday hour

If we walk together, little children
We won’t ever have to worry
Through this world of trouble
We’ve got to love one another
Let us take our fellow man by the hand
Try to help him to understand
We can all be together
For ever and ever
When we make it to the promised land.

Let’s talk about what it means to “walk together.”

There is something powerful about the bald juxtaposition of Gospel and Rock in this performance and others like it. Both genres have unique energy for depicting humanity’s pain and potential, and they do it best when they collide — aggressively, but with love. Garcia’s guitar and Hornsby’s keys add a raw brutality to Johnson’s songwriting, which in turn exalts the band.

I’m sure this concept was the inspiration behind Christian rock, but the diluted hybrid just doesn’t cut it. There’s a lesson here for collaboration: remain faithful to the core strengths and value of everyone at the table. When diverse partners participate at full strength, something magical happens. When they water down their uniqueness, the result falls short of its potential.

Diversity is not a buzzword, but a value — at work, in life, and in art. It is, as the song reminds us, both means and end. It is both our path through fear and the final destination. Johnson reminds us of the latter gently, but directly: life is temporal, fleeting, and, ultimately, in service of beloved community.

This world is not our home
We are only passing through
Our trail is all made up
Way beyond the blue
Let us do the very best that we can
While we’re traveling’ through this land
We can all be together
Shaking a hand
When we make it to the promised land.

* Lending credence to the long arc of justice, both King’s and Steinem’s quotes are riffs on wisdom from earlier eras. King paraphrases abolitionist Theodore Parker, and Steinem paraphrases labor activist Joe Hill.

Charles Johnson and the Sensational Nightingales

Just War and the Art of Decision-Making

In September, I attended a University of Virginia panel titled, “The Future of the Just War Tradition.” The panel consisted of a presentation by Richard Miller, a powerhouse in modern just war thinking, along with five short scholarly responses (also impressive). Not only was the subject matter serious and interesting, but the discussion itself also illustrated the manner in which fields of study can and should evolve to stay relevant.

Enrichment Value:

In addition to subject-specific learning, I left the panel impressed by the format of the exchange and the way in which the tradition adapts, albeit carefully. The latter of these was acknowledged by Miller in his opening remarks, when he addressed the importance of both continuity and change to the just war tradition. This “paradox,” as Miller called it, is the essence of decision-making — and it is one I see in every industry I encounter. Decision-makers of all stripes must understand and engage established wisdom, while also adapting to change and inviting the creative energies of new players.

The panel also illustrated the importance of risk assessment. The line between continuity and change is paramount for decision making, but its location varies from problem to problem, industry to industry, organization to organization, and individual to individual. One can begin to identify that line by assessing risk (what’s at stake?), who bears the burden of the risk, and how risk-tolerant those people or entities can afford to be. Every decision — from the ethically fraught decision to enter war to isolated personal decisions — should begin with a careful assessment of risk. That assessment will illuminate the appropriate degree of care, and it will recommend a balance between established wisdom and creative energy.

(I have also used the structure of just war theory as a device to illuminate the ethics of work on LinkedIn Pulse. Read more…)

Enrichment Content:

Here’s a quick 101 on the just war tradition. As a body of work, just war theory explores the ethics of war. The tradition asks (and answers) questions regarding when it is ethically appropriate to engage in warfare, and how one might do so ethically. Traces of the tradition can be found throughout the history of warfare, dating well before its formal beginnings in the Catholic Church. It began to gain traction as a cohesive theory in the fifteenth century, and ultimately became a dominant framework for contemporary ethics of war.

The just war tradition is distinct from pacifism because, notwithstanding their shared presumption against violence, the just war tradition posits that war can sometimes be just justified. Just war theory has traditionally presented two categories of justification: jus ad bellum, which governs the decision to go to war, and jus in bello, which governs conduct in war. Contemporary thinkers have added others, including jus post bellum, which governs the end of conflict and peacemaking, and jus ad vim, which incorporates non-state actors into a broader examination of just force.

At the panel, Miller sketched a vision for the just war tradition that both respects the continuity of the tradition and addresses the changing context of warfare, specifically the new realities of humanitarian intervention, terrorism, drone warfare, and cyber warfare. In all of these, he emphasized the significance of asymmetric war. Respondents challenged Miller energetically and respectfully on the following:

R2P: A U.N.-adopted principle known as “responsibility to protect” against atrocities like genocide and ethnic cleansing.
Climate change as a factor reshaping war in the twenty-first century.
The hypocrisy of calling unjust war, “war.” (“Let’s call it slaughter,” argued nerd-famous pacifist Stanley Hauerwas.)
The importance of dialogue for sorting out who has authority as the international order evolves.
The problematic detachment of just war theory from the day-to-day work of military and political leaders.

Heavy stuff! Well worth the effort of engagement.

I just gave a talk on 3 hours of sleep and serious election heartache. Here’s how I did it.

I tried to sleep last night, I swear.

I’m grateful for the three hours I did get. They came early in the evening, when the writing wasn’t fully on the wall. The likelihood of sleep (and any peace of mind) evaporated after I woke at 1:30 and decided to check results.

In addition to my civic heartache, I could not stomach the next day’s work. Talking about the “business case” for anything, much less emotional intelligence, seemed outrageous. I tossed and turned, trying to figure out how to deliver the talk that I had promised, with integrity.

Worse—and I’m not proud of this—vanity threw fuel on the fire. I had no doubt that, in the light of day, my eyes would betray both my lack of sleep and my disappointment. My anxiety increased and my sleep prospects diminished.

Eventually, I acknowledged that sleep would not come, so I determined to get out of bed and get to work. Which I did. Here is how I did it with some degree of success:

As Best I Could, I Cleared My Calendar.

I asked forgiveness on an evening appointment and cleared my afternoon for writing—a good recovery technique for introverts. Today, my single most important job would be to kick ass on the talk.

I committed to an early bedtime. The promise of good sleep tonight bought me some welcome psychological peace at 4am. I had no more time for self-pity.

I Addressed Substantive Concerns Decisively (and Ignored the Rest).

I decided that I would not ignore the partisan elephant in the room, but that I would respect the group’s officially nonpartisan membership. I wanted to acknowledge the election with an authentic, but gracious tone. I tested several iterations aloud in my living room. My phrasing wasn’t perfect, but I felt confident enough that it was honest and respectful.

I decided to be transparent about my belief that business logic should be a means to an end, not an end in itself. I would make the point that financial outcomes are significant for all kinds of organizations, hopefully in support of meaningful missions. Again, I practiced the delivery out loud. My goal was to be respectful and very clear.

Because my audience shared a service mission, I invited them to reflect on it. This reframed the entire talk in light of their shared ethical language, which supported my fourth-quarter changes.

Finally, I mostly ignored the vanity factor. I had to hope that my pantsuit would compensate. I didn’t have energy to waste on outsized concern for my appearance.

I Leaned on My Preparation—Hard.

I gave myself credit for staying off the sauce last night. Likewise, the attempted early bedtime was smart, even if unsuccessful.

I reassured myself that I was very prepared. I knew that I would be tired, even in the best case scenario, so my goal had been the public speaking equivalent of muscle memory. I had practiced the talk over, and over, and over again.

I trusted my audience to be forgiving. This gave me some much-needed calm. (They were delightful, by the way. I was right.)

I Allowed Time to Settle In Gently.

I stayed away from coffee until I arrived, because I couldn’t expect endless forgiveness. I could not come out strong on the topic of E.Q. if I was jittery and on edge. (Also, I wanted the full benefit of that initial jolt.)

I went through the presentation again, arrived early, and tested the onsite technology. I took a deep, quiet breath when I felt my heart rate increase ahead of the talk.

The talk went well. I found a way to execute with integrity, and it made me feel surprisingly great to put my pantsuit back on this morning. All in all, it was a welcome win in the wake of a tough election night.

Not every situation warrants the call to “put on your big girl pantsuit” and get to work. However, when one does, rest assured: you can do it.

My post-election, pre-talk, pantsuit selfie.

5 Strategic Foundations: How Does Your Organization Stack Up?

When you look at your strategic plan, do you think, “Wow! We have really made progress on this,” or, “Ugh, this is so dated. All it does is gather dust”?

To those of you in the former category, I salute you. You are doing the hard work of internalizing your plan, pulling it into your day-to-day, and evolving it organically. GOOD JOB. This article will be a useful test for you to identify where to strengthen, but you are on the right track.

To those of you in the latter category, listen hard.

Good Strategy Has Deep Roots.

Too many people equate strategy with a formulaic plan for success – a masterpiece of logic. The problem? A masterpiece of logic is meaningless if it isn’t built on solid foundations, and it is useless if it sits in a drawer.

Execs, before embarking on a formal process, you should assess your org’s foundations. Consider the questions below. There are five big categories: mission, vision, ethics, culture, and financial model(s). No, you don’t need all the answers – but, yes, you need to be fluent in the complexities and the strategic issues at play.

MISSION
- Do you have a clearly defined mission statement?
- Does your mission actually embody the heart of what your organization achieves – it’s generative value? (What are you creating?)
- Has your senior team internalized that mission? Your staff? You?

VISION
- Where do you want to lead your organization?
- How are you defining short-term success for your organization?
- Mid- and long-term success?
- What alternative visions exist, and is there conflict? How will you manage that?

ETHICS
- What groups and individuals comprise your constituents, or stakeholders?
- What claims do they rightly make on your strategy?
- What is your organization’s potential impact on systemic injustice (for better and for worse)?
- How should your organization assess and respond to this context in day-to-day operations?

CULTURE
- How well do you understand your organization’s real, day-to-day culture?
- Does that culture support your mission, vision, and good ethics?
- How is it consistent or inconsistent across departments and seniority?
- How does it complement or conflict with your leadership style?

FINANCIAL MODEL(S)
- Big picture, how does your organization make money?
- Or, if you are a non-profit, how are you funding your mission?
- Is your intent to grow or maintain your current scale?
- How well do your revenue streams align with your mission, vision, and good ethics?

What’s Your Point of View?

You don’t need perfect answers; nor should you make firm conclusions. Rather, you should be ready for your ideas to expand and evolve. An essential, umbrella question for all five categories is: what additional info – and whose input – do I need?

That said, you do need a point of view. If your predominant response is, “Huh, I really haven’t thought about that,” or even, “Hmmmn, I need to think about that more,” your point of view needs attention.

Go ahead; think about it more. Budget time to explore these questions before you kick off formal planning. This foundational work seeds the entire process, as well as your future management of whatever plan you create. When you get to, “I don’t have all the answers, but I understand the issues at play,” you are ready for traditional planning.

Leverage Your Investment in Planning.

You will thank me for this when you see the price tag for strategic planning and realize that – in planning alone, much less implementing that plan’s strategy – you are investing in your organization. Investing. You pay now for the expectation of future benefit. Add your time to your organization’s out of pocket expense, plus your staff’s time and planning’s potential roller coaster of morale. See what I mean? It adds up.

By strengthening your strategic foundations, you help to ensure that your ROI on planning is substantial. Perhaps more importantly, you ensure that the returns are those you actually desire.

Why I’m Writing About Justice on My Business Blog

Like many of you, current events leave me searching my heart for the right words, the right tone, the right course of action, and the right response to injustice in our culture. On occasion (e.g. here and here), I have used my business blog as a platform.

I have settled on two rules for this: (1) Business blogging must tie back to the work; it should not become a platform for either ranting or navel-gazing. (2) When my writing invokes others’ pain, it must be motivated by a sincere desire to help. The point is to share my expertise and perspective to alleviate suffering, not the other way around.

These two rules can coexist logically, I hope, because I have aligned my business model with my values.

Speaking out for justice aligns with my business strategy. This is a good thing.

Truth be told, I worry sometimes about limiting my client pool. However, I am determined that the normal anxiety of business development will not warp my values or my vision. It’s simple, really: I want to work with clients who share my concern for justice.

Social justice, racial justice, economic justice, LGBTQ justice, food justice, sexual justice, environmental justice, international justice, intersectional justice. Justice for the elderly; justice for youth. Justice for the differently abled. Justice for all.

Once I put my brave face on, I see this more clearly.

Marketing 101: know your best-fit clients.

These are the clients who will most benefit from your particular services, who will value your particular contribution, and for whom you know you can do great work — based on your particular acumen.

My unique background–in management and as a trained ethicist–differentiates me from other coaches. My best-fit clients want a coach who will support their values and ambition for impact, while also propelling their professional growth. They are business executives, nonprofit leaders, educators, artists, and individuals in transition. They walk many paths, and I walk my own as their coach. Together, we leverage their talents for positive impact — in their lives, their organizations, and the wider world.

Why do I write about justice on my business blog? My mission is to empower others to align their work with their values. My goal is to lead by example.

Haiku: On Vacation

I’m shutting down now.
Ciao, laptop! Bon voyage, me!
The air smells sweeter.

Advice That Rocks: Get Outside

This 1974 gem from Robert Palmer perfectly evokes the ennui of the modern professional worker. The lyrics describe the frustration of being stuck, with no way forward but the slog. The tempo and Palmer’s buttery vocals add a tangible feeling to the song’s intentionally depleted energy. Best of all, Palmer offers the perfect antidote:

Get outside.

As it turns out, Palmer was way ahead of his time. Contemporary scientists would approve. Give him a listen, and consider these benefits of the great outdoors:

Outdoor time counteracts the negative health impacts of prolonged sitting and Vitamin-D deficiency (two markers of office work). ²AsapSCIENCE, “What if You Stopped Going Outside?”
Observing nature counteracts what psychologists call “directed attention fatigue.” When you return to your desk, you will be less distracted, less irritable, and less impulsive. ³Rebecca Clay, American Psychological Association, “Green Is Good for You.”
Time observing nature correlates with improved attention to detail. ⁴Rebecca Clay, American Psychological Association, “Green Is Good for You.”
Nature walks decrease activity in the subgenual prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for brooding. ⁵Gretchen Reynolds, New York Times, “How Walking in Nature Changes the Brain.”
Time in nature correlates strongly with enhanced creative problem-solving. ⁶University of Utah, “Nature Nurtures Creativity.”

Trust the science, and get outside — on behalf of your physical health, your psychological wellbeing, and your performance at work.

The world outside your office is simply irresistible.

[ + ]

1.	↑
2.	↑	AsapSCIENCE, “What if You Stopped Going Outside?”
3.	↑	Rebecca Clay, American Psychological Association, “Green Is Good for You.”
4.	↑	Rebecca Clay, American Psychological Association, “Green Is Good for You.”
5.	↑	Gretchen Reynolds, New York Times, “How Walking in Nature Changes the Brain.”
6.	↑	University of Utah, “Nature Nurtures Creativity.”
7.	↑	Sometimes a pun just calls out to you.

The #1 Question to Ask About Your Work

I write this in the wake of horrible violence, yet again, in my country. Last night, snipers killed 5 police officers at what should have been a peaceful protest against bloodshed. Our nation is deeply troubled by cycles of violence, both individual and systemic. Civil discourse has degraded into partisan bullying, and everyone is heartbroken. You know this. I know this. But what do we do?

Let’s turn that question inward. **What do you do?**

Seriously. What do you do with your time and energy each day? What is your work?

These are not easy questions, ethically speaking. In fact, they are decidedly uneasy. As you consider them, I propose that you employ a concept from just war theory. The just war tradition has been used for centuries by heads of state and other political leaders to make sense of right and wrong in the context of war. It has been extremely influential in world history.¹Learn more about the content and history of just war theory here, and learn about pacifist ethics here. However, it interests me today because of its framework.

Specifically, just war theory unravels two distinct aspects of war-making and sets clear ethical parameters for each. The two aspects are jus ad bellum, which governs the decision to go to war, and jus in bello, which governs conduct in war. I see this framework as useful for examining the ethics of work because it untangles two important threads of consideration: major strategic decisions and in-the-trenches tactics.

Here are analogous categories for the ethics of work:

Strategic:

What is my profession?
Whom do I work for?
What is my organization’s mission?
What is the broad impact of my profession and organization?

Tactical:

How do I conduct myself at work?
Am I learning as much as I can, to do the best work that I can?
Am I practicing self-care to support engagement and energy?
What are the practical ethics of my profession? Do I know them and hold myself accountable?
What are the impacts of my specific, day-to-day decisions?

Surely, both of the categories above are paramount to ethical work. We need more people (you! me!) to choose professions and organizations that make positive impacts on the world. We also need to work ethically and earnestly within those contexts. What we learn from the just war framework is that both sets of conditions — the strategic and the tactical — are necessary. Either/or is inadequate.

I urge you to examine how closely your answers align with your personal values, your philosophical and religious commitments, your family’s collective mission, and your desire to DO SOMETHING in light of our shared struggles. Find the support you need as you make the changes you should (and surely we all must change).

What you do with your time is your impact on the world.

Let me say that again: what you do with your time IS your impact on the world. You likely spend 40, 50, 60 or even more hours at work — especially if you factor in commuting, travel frequently, or work as a caregiver. If you are fortunate enough to choose your work (and too many aren’t), you have a responsibility to choose wisely and a responsibility to go about it honestly. Bring your values into the equation, rather than compartmentalizing work vs. life.

“What do you do?” is classic small-talk, but it shouldn’t be. It’s the most important thing we can ask ourselves as we grapple with the dark and difficult. Honest answers will begin to shed a little light.