News & Notes

Back in college I was hopelessly naive.  A sheltered childhood had insulated me against the harsher aspects of the world so that my overall perception of the universe was as simple to understand as it was far from reality.  Like most kids at that awkward age, I really was convinced that I had it all figured out, knew what it was all about and how it all worked.  I could see, or thought I could see, the system that turned the gears and my place in that great machine was as assured as it was inevitable.  Yeah like I said – hopelessly naive.  It lasted half way through my first class.

The class was Psychology 101 with professor whats-her-name, who all know who I’m talking about, with the frizzed pony tail tucked behind large thick glasses.  She was talking about perception and how we are all suckers to the lies our brains tell us about the world around us.  She showed us some optical illusions, the kind 3rd graders marvel over, and I was unimpressed.  I listened with polite disinterest, confident in my command of my own senses.  Then suddenly, like a lightning bolt on a clear day, she told us about the moon.

You see, the moon is an optical illusion too.  On those nights when you stare out through your car windshield at the huge satellite on the horizon, orange and magnificent, you are really being lied to.  The moon doesn’t grow and it doesn’t get any closer.  It is always that smallish gray orb, only our minds make it larger when it is closer to the ground and trees and other things that we have mental models to compare sizes to.  I always loved watching the moon from my bedroom window on summer nights, sometimes even sitting up on the roof’s peak to get a better view.  I was so close to the ideal of that perfect harvest moon, so connected to it, that the discovery of its deception was powerfully jarring.  What else was I wrong about?  What else had I blindly believed?

I live in Detroit now, which is in its own way a form of self delusion.  A microcosm of a macrocosm of misery surrounds this place like a dense fog.  My friend tells me about her circle of friends that work in the auto industry.  A couple of them have lost their jobs and a couple more think it is coming soon.  My uncle is worried that the bank he works for may not be on the list for a bailout.  I think about the work I do and I slip back into comforting lies that nothing bad could possibly happen to me.  Yet I can see the moon from my window when I work late, trying to impress someone else, and I know that perspective requires distance. I pack it up for the night and go home.  The work will be there in the morning.

We have books and magazines and podcasts and blogs and webinars and conferences dedicated to maximizing our business potential.  Between that we have networking luncheons and evening round-table talks and weekend retreats to double guarantee success. And yet, for all that effort, believing you have mastered your fate is an illusion of perception.

My advice?  Step back and get some distance from it.  Find your own perspective.  Realize that the balance of work with family and personal interests is really just about the best recipe for happy, healthy living.  I now am spending Mondays with my daughter at the community pool and Sundays out at my woodshop.  How about you?  What do you do to get perspective?

Photo attributed to Kevin