Creativity

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

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.

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.

Advice That Rocks: Burning Down the House

I love the idea that anyone can be a force for change – even an ordinary guy. Especially an ordinary guy.*

I’m an ordinary guy,
Burning down the house.

In fact, our heroes are ordinary folks, made extraordinary by their determination and willingness to act.

Hold tight,
We’re in for nasty weather.
There has got to be a way,
Burning down the house.

They know the importance of bringing others along at the right moment.

Here’s your ticket pack your bags,
Time for jumping’ overboard,
The transportation is here.

And they aren’t afraid to dismantle the status quo — nonviolently.

That’s right,
Don’t want to hurt nobody.
Some things sure can sweep me off my feet,
Burning down the house.

According to Tina Weymouth (founding member and Talking Heads bassist), the song’s signature line is based on a Parliament-Funkadelic crowd chant. It’s a nod to that band’s smokin’ jams. Whether our heroes are musicians burning down the house with artistic energy, activists burning down the house with political change, or entrepreneurs burning down the house with economic disruption, this ballad is all about creative determination.

Those of us who aspire to positive impact would do well to internalize its energy and earnestness.

*By “guy,” I mean (and I take the Talking Heads to mean) all people. Of course.

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