Blog and newsletter

Hi friends,

Starting today, you can find my newsletters archived here on my web site. This is based on requests from folks who prefer sharing links over forwarding emails. More proof of a key message of this newsletter: different folks need different strokes in leadership…and the rest of life.

Grand Theft Leadership Training

“I woke up this morning and someone had stolen everything from my apartment and replaced it with an exact replica.”—Steven Wright

This sounds like most leadership development programs. They leave you no different than when you started. You pick up a new concept (“aha!”) and perhaps connect with the person in the seat next to you. All good, but at the end of the day, not much is different. You have the same conversations with the same people.

At some point, you realize that your time and your organization’s budget have been stolen.

What you’ve experienced is Grand Theft Leadership Training.

We can do better than this.

The key is deliberate practice. Repeated skill drills aimed at building muscle memory coupled with reflection on the experience. All aimed at rewiring neural pathways in your brain.

I don’t think this is a lot to ask. Why should we hold lower standards for a $5,000 professional development experience than we do for a $15 tennis lesson?

We have to do better than this.

Practical tip: ask yourself these two questions when thinking of registering for a leadership program:

1. Will it help me translate new insights into conversation skills?

2. How much of the time will be devoted to deliberate practice?

 

Reader Q&A

Q: “I am curious if you were serious about deep work being contraindicated for [Enneagram] Fives. Two I know well do this a lot.”—Deborah

A: I said it was contraindicated for some Fives. Still, your question raises a big point about that piece. In service of brevity, I left out nuance. Many Fives get great value from Deep Work. Consider a Five senior executive I once coached. His job required individual thinking time, but he rarely got it. The reason? He literally couldn’t close the door to his office—that’s how much he diminished his own needs. I helped him create time and space for deep work. It made a positive difference.

That was him. Many other Fives have no qualms closing the door. Their challenge is opening it and stepping out. My caution to them—and why I call this a contraindiction—is to avoid using the Deep Work practice as a rationale for avoiding contact with others.

 

Sleepy makes grumpy

Damn it if I didn’t just learn the same lesson all over again.

For much of November, I was grumpy more than average. Less patient, more anxious, way more likely to be snippy.

Don’t get me wrong. I knew sleep was involved. Our younger son was waking up multiple times a night and mistaking me for a father with a big heart. The two were clearly connected.

However, that’s not the explanation my mind used during the moments I was peeved. It blamed everything else: cloudy weather, not enough meditation, too few close friends, wrong profession, impeachment hearings, climate change, even a heating pad (long story!).

Then we moved our son to a new temporary bedroom. The first night, he slept well, as did I. The next four nights, things went even better.

Suddenly, Grumpy Gary had become Happy Harry—or, to be precise, Amiable Amiel. I was more patient and relaxed, less likely to complain, more inclined to smile and laugh. All without any substantive changes in the weather, my meditation, my friendships, etc.

It’s the sleep, stupid!

 

Works for some—Covey’s fifth habit

Different folks need different strokes…of advice. This week’s focus: Stephen Covey’s fifth habit: seek first to understand, then to be understood.

Covey gave us this principle in 1989 when Seven Habits was published. You’ve used it to enter new situations, sustain relationships, and talk with people who seem crazy. I find it handy 10-15 times a day. Literally. And ignoring it? Half of my top ten blunders in life stemmed from this.

Yet, like all good advice, it’s not for everyone, has side effects, and occasionally needs supplements. Let’s break this down:

• Works for: managers with disgruntled direct reports or peers, parents with teenagers, dealing with families of origin, and anyone without wiring for inquiring
• Contraindications (doesn’t work for): people wired to focus on others’ needs and ignore their own, like many Enneagram Two Helpers. People wired to merge with others’ agendas, like some Enneagram Nine Peacemakers. Severe verbal bullying. Threats of immediate bodily harm. Dealing with toxic people on social media.
• Side effects: confusion if the other person rattles on forever. Frustration when they won’t reveal anything. Losing your place at the table if all you do is seek to understand.
• Supplement with: using your mind to assess what you’ve heard and your body to sense how it lands for you. Getting clear on what matters to you and sharing it.

Cheerfully real,
Amiel Handelsman

P.S. Did someone forward this issue to you? We’d love to have you join us by signing up here.

 

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Hi there,

I want to help you deliver on your commitments with less wear and tear, get out of bed in the morning excited about the day ahead, and enter difficult conversations ready not just to survive them, but to own them.

Over the past 20+ years, I’ve helped many leaders and teams do just these things. I call this my “client work.” It’s been the source of my income, the fullest expression of my gifts, and the focus of my professional attention. The great thing about working with people directly is you get to have a true mutual exchange. You speak, I listen. I speak, you listen. Together we end up better than where we started.

If you’ve worked with me, or someone like me (but without the fedora and scintillating sense of humor), you know what I’m talking about. When you commit to an ongoing relationship, structure it well, and stay real with each other, good stuff happens.

The work we do here through blog posts and the podcast is different. The beauty of it for me is the convenience. I get to connect with you without either of us getting on a plane. (Unless you have that rare malady known as 40,000 Foot Virtual, where you won’t go online unless you’re high in the clouds).  Also, you get what you want when you want it, because nothing I’ve done so far is live.

OK, there was that live Twitter interview I did one morning while stranded on the Las Vegas strip with our kids in tow, which was strangely energizing. But, other than this, it’s been asynchronous all the way.

The downside of this medium is that I don’t get to know what you’re thinking unless I ask, and I haven’t asked very often. So, most of the time, you hear me, but I don’t hear you.

Sure, some of you drop me a line periodically to ask a question or thank me for an interview that reached you at just the right moment. For the most part, however, I’m in the dark. So I come up with stuff that I think you’ll find valuable and then knock on wood hoping you’ll get something out of it.

Up until now, I’ve been satisfied with this. My work attention has focused on clients. Outside of work, I’m now a member of the sandwich generation: young kids at home plus aging parents. So life is full. (I never say the word “busy.” It’s OK if you do, but I prefer “full.” It means at capacity but not necessarily at top speed).

As a result, my approach to the podcast and blog has been a haphazardly choreographed three-step:

1. Select guests I admire and topics I feel passionate about
2. Go for quality
3. Prioritize variety over a consistent theme you can connect with

This approach breaks at least 31 rules of online business. Many of these rules I don’t give a lick about. But others, I’m now realizing, really matter.

Resources you can use right now

If you noticed I haven’t written for a couple of months, this is why. Over the summer, life slowed down, and I had a couple of weeks away from my kids. I used this opportunity to take a step back and reflect on what we’ve done here so far. What am I proud of? What is decent yet could serve you much better? What’s worth getting rid of completely?

Unless you’re feline, you only get one life. What do you want to do with it?

Asking myself these questions, I’ve realized a couple things. First, I’m honored that so many of you have connected with me here and brought friends along for the ride. Some folks just joined us last week. Others have been reading (and then listening) since the late 90s. This so cool.

The second thing is we can do more. I can do more for you. Give you resources that match exactly what you need in this moment. Make them actionable and customized. And challenge you to roll up your sleeves and practice.

It’s now possible to use video and audio to provide skill-building drills you can do at home or at the office. (More on this below). So much is possible.

For me, step one is to rethink what we’re up to here, get your input, and pull together something that Millennials—and even some in our generation—would call epic.

You’ll start to see things named differently. I’m excited about this. But let’s be clear: this isn’t just about creating a new brand. It’s also deeply personal for me.

To help you grow, I need to grow (gulp!)

Let’s talk Enneagram for a minute. It’s a personal growth system I’ve used with leaders and teams since 2001. Nine types, each a different answer to the question “What makes you tick?” Unlike Myers-Briggs and other typing systems, the goal isn’t just to accept we are all different, but to suggest a path of growth.

It’s less about categorizing than liberating. Each type describes a box you put yourself in every day—and how to get out of it. That’s why some call the Enneagram a transformation system.

In this system, I identify as a Six, the Loyal Skeptic. My teacher, Russ Hudson, describes the Six as the most misunderstood type. I would substitute “awesome” for “misunderstood,” but Russ is still onto something. 🙂

Here’s one way you roll if you identify as a Six: come up with a new idea, immediately question it (“Can I trust myself? Can I trust others?”), and then either hedge your bets or zigzag. Sometimes this results in very little action. Analysis paralysis. In other cases, like mine, you generate stuff—a lot of stuff—but it’s all over the map. Claiming a niche requires a decision, and you’re not ready for that.

The reason is understandable. Hedging your bets feels safe. Then result for others, however, is less than ideal. When you don’t have a clear niche and offer, people don’t know how to interact with you. A great example of this is my web site. Yesterday morning over coffee, a branding consultant said to me, “Your web site shows you have a lot of interests. What’s not clear are your primary focus and offering. What are they?”

Bingo. Her assessment wasn’t news to me, but it confirmed what already was clear: it’s time to do online what already happens with clients: be clear about who I serve, be consistent in what I offer, and then deliver.

Rebranding is a step forward in my own growth. I’ll summarize it it three words: put you first.

Which reminds me of a Rodney Dangerfield line. The goal in life, he said, is to “put yourself number one without stepping in number two.” Touche.

What you can expect

I’ll be sharing more in the weeks and months ahead. For now, here is a preview of what you can look forward to:

• The podcast will have a new name. From the beginning, “The Amiel Show” was a placeholder. If you aren’t ready to commit to a single focus, you have two options: do nothing, or name the darn thing after yourself. I did the latter. It’s been terrific for teaching people how to pronounce my name. But that’s it, and nobody has shown me how saying my name with three syllables instead of two has made them better at work or happier in life. So, the name will change. At the moment, I have an Evernote listing over 75 possible names. One thing they have in common: no “Amiel.

 

• The resources you receive from me will be stuff you want to share. Managers are always looking for modest-size nuggets of practical wisdom to share with their teams. Whether you’re preparing for an offsite, following up on a development plan, or giving your folks a new shared language, it can be difficult to find just the right resource for that moment. Even harder to find something that is accessible and actionable. Consultants and coaches have the same challenge with their clients. I’ll be lending you a hand with this. Recently, I’ve subscribed to a few top notch curated newsletters. The curator picks the best resources on a topic, adds a bit of humorous commentary, and sends it your way. This is one option I’m exploring.

 

• More consistently timed messages. If I promise a weekly newsletter on Tuesdays, you’ll get a weekly newsletter on Tuesdays. If I promise something twice a month, you’ll get it twice a month. The reason I haven’t done this to date isn’t because I don’t value consistency or don’t value you, but because I’ve squeezed my podcast and blog into my calendar on an “as time permits” basis. If you have an equivalent of this in your life (hopefully not your marriage or kids!), then you’ll know what I’m talking about. In any case, you want to trust what you receive and when you receive it. Once I make this commitment, I’ll stick to it.

 

• Access to a community where you can make real connections. First there were online forums. Then, blogs with comments sections. These days, we have Facebook and Twitter. If you’re like me, it’s hard to find a place online to have a substantive conversation online without either dullness or drama, superficiality or toxicity. I’ve been in Facebook groups with some of the smartest people, including those with calming meditation or yoga practices, and the conversation inevitably devolves to mush or madness. It’s one reason I gave Facebook the boot last fall. It’s also a reason I want to create for you something that I’ve longed for: a safe space for intelligent conversations among practical people with responsibilities, frustrations, and commitments similar to yours. What will this look like? I’m just starting my research, but the coolest thing I’ve seen so far is a private social network like Mighty Networks. Unlike Facebook and Twitter, I’d be paying to rent their technology. So instead of selling ads, they’d receive my monthly autopay. Here’s why this is good news. Right now, if you’re on Facebook, you are the product. Algorithms study you, and companies sell you. In a private social network, you are the customer. Whether I pay for everything or you toss in a few bucks, the conversation is forus and betweenus. As someone who’s been participating in a private social network for the past month, I can tell you it’s refreshingly different.

 

• Online mini-courses providing not just concepts but actual exercises you can practice. If you’ve hung around with me for a while, you know I’m all about deliberate practice. Whether on the job or in dedicated practice time, you get better at something by naming what you will improve, selecting specific skills to practice, and then doing multiple repetitions in varying conditions. You get feedback from yourself (which we call “self-reflection) and from a coach, mentor, or trusted colleague. The result is two-fold: you build competence, and you grow into the best version of yourself. I dedicated a whole chapter to this in my first book Practice Greatness. It’s also why I like guiding clients through live conversation drills during meetings. Familiar with high intensity interval training? I’ve started offering this to my clients—not to build muscle and burn fat, but to get better at speaking and listening. Call it high intensity conversation training. Think about it. No serious person plays tennis matches without dozens of hours rallying with a partner or against the wall. Nobody thinks of performing in a rock band without hundreds of hours of individual and group rehearsals. Yet, in organizations, we think we can perform two of the primary actions of managing, speaking and listening, without practicing it whatsoever. Funny, isn’t it? Actually, I find it sad. The good news is that I’ve developed a method to practice conversations with clients that I’d like to offer you.  So, if you’re ready for a new challenge, I’ll have something for you.

 

• A minimalist web site. Over the past month, my wife, our two sons, and I have been removing a ton of clutter from our home. The goal is to keep only things that are either useful or pleasurable. If you’ve ever tried this, it’s hard to start, both painful and liberating to do, and satisfying to complete. We’re only part-way through, but already the results have been incredible. I started with a room that expert minimalists recommend you save until later because it’s so difficult: my office. I’ll save the details for another day, but let me tell you, it is so much more enjoyable to work in this space now than it was a mere three weeks ago. After making this change, I look at my web site and think: Next Project! There’s more clutter than clarity, more distraction than distillation. Holler if you disagree, but I think it’s time for a change. So that, too, will be coming soon.

A penny for your thoughts?

If you were to name one thing here that has you thinking, “Hmmm, intriguing!” what would it be?

Hit “Reply” and let me know. I promise to read what you write and take it into consideration.

Cheerfully real,
Amiel

Cheerfully real,
Amiel Handelsman

P.S. Did someone forward this issue to you? We’d love to have you join us by signing up here.

 

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Hi friend,

In the words of Visa founder Dee Hock, it’s far too late and things are far too bad to be pessimistic. So big smile, buckle your seatbelts and prepare for flight. We’ll be ascending above the dark clouds of generic advice and flying around the Bermuda Triangle of impractical concepts. Our destination: the land where all leaders are above average because every conversation is an opportunity to grow.
 

My claim to fame

In twenty years of coaching, nobody has fallen asleep in a meeting with me. Not one single person. 

Is this because of something I do? Hardly. It’s more Jim Collins: get the right people on the bus. During initial interviews I screen for sleep dysfunctions, because I have sensitive mirror neurons. If you fall asleep, I fall asleep, and then I can’t charge for the session.

This is my claim to fame to date. Let’s hope the new conversation skills training tops it. 

 

Works for some

Different folks needs different strokes. It’s as true for advice as for tennis, massage, and sex. Last issue we saw this with Brene Brown urging you to dare greatly. This week: Cal Newport’s notion of deep work.

Newport is a computer science professor on a holy war against distraction. Not just email, but anything that keeps you from doing creative work or, God forbid, thinking. (How much time do you have to think each day? Be honest.)  In Deep Work, a Wall Street Journal bestseller, Newport describes it as “the ability to focus without distraction on a cognitively demanding task. It’s a skill that allows you to quickly master complicated information and produce better results in less time.” Newport suggests blocking off large chunks of time each week for this. You shut the door and turn on the sound machine. Message to others: don’t fuck with my flow state. 

I love this advice. On Wednesdays my calendar shows a recurring five-hour event called “Deep Work.” This is when I write, podcast and, these days, play around with new names for the podcast.

Deep work, however, is not for everyone, has side effects, and works better with specific supplements.

• Works for: people who need, but aren’t getting, solo time for deep thinking and creative projects; managers on the meeting treadmill
• Contraindications (doesn’t work for): people wired to avoid contact with others, e.g. many Enneagram Five Observers
• Side effects: missed meetings. People puzzled by your new behavior. Sudden eruptions of relief and joy.
• Supplement with: hot tea; regular practice of declining or counter-offering meeting invitations; collaborative deep work if your creative flow happens in conversation with others. 

 

Minimum effective dose

Is there anything in life you tend to overdo? If so, you may want to determine the minimum effective dose of that action and stick to it.

For me, it’s doing research. I’ll spend an hour selecting a nine-dollar pair of soccer socks for our younger son or a half day figuring out whether paintball is safe. No, I’m not proud of this. Yes, it’s connected to the mental habit of anxiety common to the Enneagram Six Loyal Skeptic. A photograph of the scene would show me leaning forward with a tense jaw, furrowed eyebrows, and eyes more alert than a baseball batter awaiting a 95 mph pitch. 

This isn’t my best self nor what you get in a coaching session. It’s my fixated self, the one stuck in a box of its own making, with neurons firing down familiar pathways.

The surplus research doesn’t harm anyone. But it doesn’t bring anyone joy, and there are more valuable uses of my time. 

For better results, I ask myself what’s the minimum effective dose? What’s the least amount of research needed to gain clarity.

This isn’t the 80/20 rule. It’s the 100/20 rule. The first 20 percent of effort gets a better result than the last 80 percent, because exceeding the minimum effective dose makes me stupider. And less happy. Conversely, sticking to the minimum effective dose is a triple win. I make better decisions, free up time, and relax my nervous system.

What do you habitually overdo? What’s the minimum effective dose? What happens when you stick to this dose? I’d love to hear.

 

Raising the stakes: clear requests and the National Guard 

After two decades of teaching people to make clear requests, I feel irritated. Many smart people treat this skill like underwater basketweaving: irrelevant to life on the ground. 

• Me: “Making clear requests is essential in life. It’s how you accomplish things with others, express your needs, and work your mojo.”
• Them: “That’s really interesting, Amiel…Pass the beer nuts.”

This is offensive. I don’t drink beer, and the whole thing is driving me nuts.

Maybe it’s the examples I’m using. In workshops, I have you practice requesting a pen. The last time a pen made a difference in anyone’s life was in the movie Say Anything when John Cusack’s character notes “I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen.” We did only slight better on the podcast by asking for a cup of tea. 

No wonder many people think requests are irrelevant to complex situations and big decisions. 

Fortunately, if you go anywhere I’m not teaching, requests are central to the story. Behind many headlines are people making inept requests.

Consider a recent incident in Portland between the white nationalist Proud Boys and the antifascist Antifa. The Proud Boys scheduled a march, and Antifa announced a counter-protest. I remember thinking, “This might not go well.” Portland’s mayor felt the same way, so he asked the Governor to call in the National Guard. 

Here’s where things went south. The Governor turned down the mayor’s request (and in a sloppy way that eroded trust, which is another story). So at moment of risk, the National Guard wasn’t around. Luckily, the confrontation between the two groups happened without violence, but things could have gone very differently. 

Last week, a local paper reported that the whole thing was a miscommunication. What the Governor declined was a request for the National Guard to go into immediate service. But that wasn’t what the mayor wanted. He wanted the National Guard on standby. And his staff claims he made this clear to the Governor. 

What’s going on here?

You and I are in the business of building skills, so it’s not necessary to assign blame. Instead, put yourself in the shoes of the mayor. What would you do differently next time? 

I would do two things:

1. Make the request so clear that even a zombie would understand it. Repeat the words “on standby” a dozen times. Write them on a white board. Say and write “not about immediate service,” because declaring what you aren’t requesting rams home what you are requesting. 
2. Ask the Governor or her staff to say what they’re hearing, and make sure thing line up. Clarity is in the ear of the beholder. 

Before you leap into upgrading requests in your own life, standard disclaimer: Customize to what makes you tick. Some people are so relentlessly clear in their requests that my advice could cause harm or distract them from their real growth edge. However, for most folks a little more clarity goes a long way.

Cheerfully real,
Amiel Handelsman

P.S. Did someone forward this issue to you? We’d love to have you join us by signing up here.

 

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Hi friend,

This week’s newsletter includes several short sections. Each provides a different angle on growing yourself as a person through conversation. Because in leading, parenting, and marriage, how you speak and listen is where where the rubber meets the road. Conversations aren’t just about results. They are how you become. This newsletter gives you words to grow by.

Works for some

No advice about leadership, parenting or anything else works for everyone. You wouldn’t know this from bestseller lists, where it’s mostly one-size-fits-all advice hidden behind an enticing title. But it’s true: good advice is customized.

I learned this from the Enneagram system of personal development. Each of the nine Enneagram types has a unique motivation, blind spot, and growth edge. Advice that benefits one type can be a disservice to another:

• If you encourage a Nine Peacemaker to be alert to changes around them, they can escape inertia and discover right action. Do the same for a Six Loyal Skeptic and you reinforce anxious vigilance.
• In contrast, “Trust your inner guidance” is chocolate for the Six soul. However, say this to a One Perfectionist or a Five Observer, and you feed their overconfidence.

Different strokes for difference folks. Take this seriously, and you’ll never look at advice about leadership, parenting, or marriage the same way again. For example, Daring Greatly (a fine book by Brene Brown) seems like inspired guidance for everyone. Who can’t benefit from more courage to be vulnerable?

As it turns out, plenty of people. The Four Romantic, for instance, gets preoccupied with their own inner experience, especially the painful parts. Being even more vulnerable may not be useful. Even if Fours take Brown’s advice with a grain of salt (and she does warn against over-sharing), the call to “dare greatly” is distracting.  Fours are better off focusing on their growth edges: appreciating positive everyday moments and delivering commitments to completion.

Just as medicine containers have warning labels, I want thought leaders to insert disclaimers into their writings and talks:

• “Not to be taken by overly sensitive people”
• “May cause overconfidence in certain people”
• “Dilute with pleasant small talk before administering”

Invitation: I’m gathering examples of well-meaning advice that works for some but not others. Do any come to mind? Perhaps something you followed before realizing it was counterproductive? Or advice that reinforced the bad habits of someone you care about? If so, please let me know. I’ll share examples in future issues.

Good enough to groove

Conversations are tricky. On the one hand, they make the world. It is through conversations that you lead, parent, and partner. This is big stuff, and you know what that means: it pays to practice. On the other hand, practicing conversations feels awkward, and you’ve heard people say it’s fake.

There are two ways to interpret this:

1. Conversations are about being real, so practicing them makes you inauthentic. Conclusion: don’t practice.
2. Conversations involve skills, and building these skills frees you to stop thinking about them. This allow you to be present—and real. I prefer this interpretation.

In last week’s podcast, Greg Thomas and Jewel Kinch-Thomas used jazz to illustrate why this is true. Jazz is about improvisation, but you can’t improvise without individual excellence. Beginners are preoccupied with basic skills, so their minds aren’t free to enter the state of flow required to groove. Masters, on the other hand, are so good that they don’t have to think about what they’re doing. They can groove.

Conversations are just like that. Consider the skill of giving feedback. Beginners are often too nice or too tough, too specific or not specific enough. Without practice, they do what’s habitual, often mirroring the way their parents talked to them as kids. Rarely is this effective. In contrast, masters at feedback have spent hours on and off the job practicing new language and attuning to others. These skills have entered muscle memory, so the masters can improvise and be real.
They’re good enough to groove.

I’m learning how to learn

I’m taking swim lessons for the first time since the mid 70s. It’s super fun, and the best part is the method, which offers brilliant lessons on how to better design and practice leadership conversations. The approach, Total Immersion, is different from the way most people learn to swim. The idea is to move further faster with less effort. You use your hips more than your shoulders, arms, or legs (go figure), and you’re always swimming on one side or the other, never on your belly.

Then there’s how you learn, which is relevant to leadership. My coach, Jamee, has us practice a single small part of the Total Immersion stroke in each session. One week it’s doing the Superman glide to practice balancing and relaxing. Another week it’s pulling the back “recovery” arm out of the water and forward a few inches—but not all the way forward, which is a different lesson. Heard of skill chunking? This is micro-chunking, and it’s based on how the brain works. If I practiced the new stroke in its entirety, my brain would recognize this as “swimming” and push me into old habits (remember: my last lesson was in 1977!). Conversely, when forced to practice one tiny skill, my brain forgets that it’s swimming. Micro-chunking disguises the skill drill from my neurons’ habitual firing patterns. This helps me learn.

This has big implications for what we are here to do: practice leadership conversations. 99 percent of leadership workshops don’t ask you to practice anything. The other one percent aren’t designed for human brains. You’re sent off for 10-20 minutes and asked to practice an entire conversation (giving feedback, nonviolent communication, etc.). This blocks learning. You spend (a) too much time (b) doing too few reps of (c)un-chunked skills. What would work better is 15-30 second practice rounds, each focused on a micro-skill, repeated multiple times, with pauses between rounds to reflect and get feedback.
This is how I’m learning to swim. This is how we could be teaching leaders to lead.

Permission-to-despair revoked

There’s a lot in the world to feel angry, scared or sad about. Pick the thing that bugs you most, and a rant is only one Tweet away. Emotions don’t need to stick around forever, but often they do, especially when you return to places that trigger you. Then a fleeting emotion shifts into a persistent mood or predisposition for action. Instead of feeling a moment of anger while watching Mitch McConnell purse his cynical lips, you walk around in anger all day long. Rather than experiencing a moment of anxiety while reading how a hotter planet will flood cities, you bring anxiety into every conversation.

One mood I see a lot of today, especially around climate change and politics, is despair. Despair is the assessment that everything has gone wrong and can never get better. Because it’s a mood, this assessment persists in your mind and body throughout the day. It opens up some possibilities for actions and closes others.

Here’s my assessment of despair: it sucks. When I say “sucks,” I meant it.

Not. Useful. For. Anything.

That’s why I’m revoking my permission to despair—and, while we’re at it, revoking yours.

Just stop.

I know it’s more complex than that, but you have to start somewhere, right?

My starting place is a set of daily practices to undermine despair. These include a 10 minute mind/body morning warmup routine, 15 minutes of full-spectrum light a foot from my face, and journal entries titled “Things that happened today that make me trust myself.” (Remember: Not for everyone! May have side effects! Dilute before using! )

I also do experiments. The idea is this: if you can’t beat despair through daily practice, don’t join it. Dissolve it with humor. Fool the brain into lightness.
Here’s today’s experiment: when I feel irritated by anything, stop what I’m doing, lift my arms into the air like I’m doing the “Y” in “YMCA” and say the following: “Fahhhhhhhhhhhhhhk!”

Immediately, a smile comes to my face. Sometimes, I laugh. Always, I feel better.
And then I do it again. And again. And yet again.

When it comes to “Fahhhhhhhhhhhhhhk!”ing  there’s no refractory period. You can keep going until you’re ready to return to your activity.

Invitation: What is a practice or experiment you are using to revoke your permission to despair? Let me know.

Cheerfully real,
Amiel Handelsman

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