The Olympics and Success Beyond Success

After two weeks of viewing the Olympics, I find myself reflecting on this experience and the purpose it serves to the average person who will never stand on a podium. Is this pure entertainment, a reality TV show with athletes who put years of passion on the line for television ratings? Are the Olympics merely meant to inspire us, but like a great movie, it’s impact diminished after the closing ceremonies? Or is something fundamentally deeper going on here?

To witness the success that Olympic athletes exhibit after focusing and dedicating years of their lives to a sport is nothing short of inspiring. Discipline of the mind and body, accompanied by the pursuit of excellence in the face of insurmountable odds awakens in each of us our own hidden potential. No athlete goes to the Olympic games unwilling to give their all in the pursuit of the expression of their passion. What makes the games so exciting is that with so many variables at play, there is no guaranteed success. Years of training can be obliterated in a split second.

But Olympic athletes do more than inspire us. They teach, if we will be open to learn. The obvious lesson is that any one can become world class in whatever you do by putting in the disciplined effort to excel at your chosen trade, craft, or profession. You can eventually win at whatever game you choose to play, if you’re willing to pay the price.

Olympic athletes inspire and teach us by the way they think. They respond to the world differently than the rest of us. The best athletes are able to ride the waves of distractions, nervous energy, adversity, and emotions in a way that helps them focus. Nowhere, in the two weeks of the Olympics, was this more evident than in the brilliant and courageous performance of Joannie Rochette, the bronze medal Canadian figure skater. Just days after her mother’s sudden death, Joannie carried her world of pain to the podium. In seven minutes, fifty seconds she somehow connected to every person watching her, like her story had become a part of each of our lives. This was more than an athletic event. It was a transformative experience of focus and courage, long before the judges added up the scores.

A year ago, if you’d asked Joannie if she could have gone on to compete just days after the death of her mother, she would have answered with a resounding “no.” As it happens, Ms. Rochette asked herself that very question. Just before the world championships last year, she went to an athletes’ seminar in Montreal. Diver Alexandre Despatie was the scheduled speaker, and she thought she might learn something, even be inspired. As it turns out, Mr. Despatie had to cancel, and in his stead was synchronized swimmer Sylvie Fréchette, who talked about how she managed to fly to the 1992 Barcelona Olympics just days after her fiancé committed suicide in their apartment, went on to compete and even win a gold medal.

Ms. Fréchette brought Ms. Rochette to tears with her speech, but, she said, “I told myself at that time, I could never do it, if that happened to me. I could never do it. There’s no way.” And yet here she is, the first Canadian female figure skater to win a medal in twenty-two years. Joannie embodies the five tenets on which the Canadian team of 206 athletes was built: passion, resiliency, unity, confidence and readiness.

Alex Bilodeau, the twenty-two-year-old moguls skier from Quebec, who will go down in history as Canada’s first gold medal winner on Canadian soil, showed us that the Olympics are more than success on a ski hill. Behind these amazing athletes are coaches, family members, friends, and community who have selflessly given years of their lives to support the athletes and loved ones.

Alex’s acknowledgement of the inspiration of his older brother, Frédéric, reminded us that the true meaning of both sport and life comes from our achievements as well as our connections to those who matter most in our life. Frédéric Bilodeau, who has cerebral palsy, was told that he would never walk beyond the age of ten. He is now twenty-eight and he stood on his own power at the finish line and pumped a red mitten skywards in celebration of Alex.

“My brother is my inspiration,” Alex Bilodeau said, wiping tears from his eyes. “He taught me so many things in my life……I have great friends in the stands waiting for me. I’ve got everything on my side.”

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir danced off with an historic gold medal, becoming not only the first Canadians, but the first North American couple to take this title since Ice Dance was included into the Olympic Winter Games in 1976. Even more inspiring than this accomplishment, however, was the scene from the Ilderton, Ontario community centre where hundreds of people who helped raised this pair gathered to celebrate their achievement on the night of the their performance. This young couple understood the real meaning of community. No medal is ever achieved alone.

When Clara Hughes, the great Canadian speed skater, capped off her Olympic career on the Richmond speed skating oval with her sixth medal, she donated her $10,000 medal bonus to an East Vancouver outdoor program for at-risk youth. With equal generosity, she credited Canadian fans for lifting her across the finish line. “They gave me wings,” she said. Clara, let me tell you, the feeling is mutual.

The Olympics remind us all that while there is no way to ensure that the result of our behavior is going to be a gold medal, there is a much more powerful guarantee as a result of the striving and sacrifice. That guarantee is success beyond success: the inner sense of joy, of happiness, of peace that comes from acting in full alignment of one’s values.  On the surface, it is far too easy to define success at the Olympics as in life, as standing on the podium or winning the prize.  But the deeper success is the success that moves us toward the inner peace that comes from integrity. For there is no success without peace of mind. While achieving goals is important, external success is not the only critical factor for living a life of fulfillment and meaning that comes from committing our lives to something beyond ourselves.

Years ago, when my father inspired me to train for the 1980 Olympics, he reminded me that the purpose of a dream is not necessarily to achieve your dream. The purpose of having a dream is to inspire you to become the kind of person it takes to achieve your dream. Few will ever stand on a podium and accept a medal for their success. But anyone can become the kind of person that it takes to get there. That is the purpose in the games and the role they play in the modern world as we sit and take part in the experience as a spectator: to remind us that the human stage of success in its myriad of forms, is a valuable legacy that inspires all of us to live a life that matters.

Organizational Culture and The Shadow

Not long ago I was hired by a church to help them with their culture. On the surface, the environment was lovely. People were very friendly and polite. Everyone talked about the sense of “family” that was highlighted on their value statements that hung in the sanctuary. Parishioners made a point, when I first met them, of talking to me about the strong “spirit” that they felt in the place.

But no one could put their finger on why attendance was dropping. As I hung around and started to really know people, a different conversation emerged. People started to open up about how the pastor was unapproachable, it was feeling like a hierarchy and losing it’s openness, the very reason most people originally came to this particular congregation. The toughest part was that there was no place to surface these concerns honestly because everyone felt that everyone else thought the culture was fine, which resulted in a fear of being honest. No one wanted to rock the boat. Genuineness was being replaced by politeness, and was turning into dishonesty, which was blocking the needed energy to sustain a great culture.

There are always at least two kinds of cultures existing in an organization: 1) the Visible Culture (e.g. the artifacts, espoused values, formal hierarchy, lines of authority) and 2) the Real Culture (e.g. the actual experience of working there, the stuff that goes on in the hallways and coffee conversations, the rumor mill, the informal procedures for getting things done).

Within the real culture lies the “shadow,” the hidden aspect where the culture’s creativity, wisdom, and interconnection are waiting to emerge. It is, after all, where a good deal of the real work — the work that means something — happens. While the visible culture is often focused on procedures, policies, job descriptions, and routines, the shadow system has few rules or constraints. Any good leader knows that to have lasting impact on the organization, you have to listen to the shadow. You have to make time to get down to the cafeteria or the places where people take their breaks and talk about what matters most. You have to listen to the hidden network. If you try to battle against the shadow by attempting to “overcome resistance” without respecting the shadow or pretending that it’s not there, it will eventually go underground and sabotage any opportunity for growth.

Wise and authentic leaders will not try to fight the shadow, but rather recognize it for what it is: a natural – and vital – part of the larger system. Leaders that have not faced their own shadow will avoid the darker side of their organization by hiding in their office, suppressing honesty, choosing polite affiliation over genuine alignment, or develop an over-dependence on surveys to assess the temperature of the culture.

But suppressing the shadow or pretending it’s not there is done at your own peril. The shadow will always come out. If it’s not allowed to surface directly, it will contaminate the system in the form of resistance, complaining, sabotaging new initiatives, exiting, disengagement, and apathy.

Alternatively, by acknowledging the shadow and allowing it to surface in open, respectful, responsible conversations, you can contain it without suppressing it and channel it into creative problem solving, genuine engagement, and renewed, focused commitment. The first step to healing is acknowledgement. Sunlight is the best disinfectant.

I’d love to hear about your experience with the shadow, and constructive ways you improved your workplace by facing the darker side of your organizational nature.

Passion, Culture, and Commitment

Valentine’s Day and the start of the winter Olympics has me thinking about passion. Yes, there is lustful passion, but I’m thinking of the passion that inspires people to bring their whole self to their work. You certainly see passion in an Olympic athlete who has devoted their life to mastering a sport. I learned from my father that it’s a lot easier to be disciplined and accountable if you have a passion. For example, when you are lying in bed debating whether you should get  up to exercise it’s a lot easier if your goal is to be an Olympian. Then you have a reason to be disciplined. You are working for a higher purpose that inspires you.

So, in the work of building an engaged organizational culture, how important is passion? I think it’s very important, but I don’t believe you have to find passion in every task. I’ve met hard working janitors that don’t  find passion in cleaning up other people’s messes and I know stay-at-home parents that don’t find a lot of passion in changing diapers or washing clothes. When I was a competitive distance runner, I was passionate about the sport, but I wasn’t necessarily passionate about every one of my workouts. Sometimes it was just painful and hard work. The same is true about being a CEO. Inspired by the results that my clients experience and the work I do, I am not passionate about every aspect of the “job.”  While some are blessed to experience passion in their work (we call that a vocation), for others, their passion lies away from their work (we call that a fulfilling job). Both are valid.

I think it’s unrealistic and even dangerous to think that you have to be passionate about everything you do in order to feel “authentic” or true to yourself. The expectation that you always have to find passion in every responsibility can lead to narcissism, disenchantment, and self-centered resentment. Anyone that’s been married longer than 2 weeks understands this. The real work of marriage begins when the passion wains. Then you discover the true meaning of character and commitment: extending yourself for the greater good – even when the passion isn’t evident.

So how do you ignite energy and engage people in the midst of drudgery? Two ways: first, by connecting with a higher purpose, a vision that provides a strong enough reason for doing the task, and second, by connecting with talent. Both fuel passion and thus engage people. Passion is important in any relationship but it doesn’t necessarily have to come in the nature of the task. It can come with a strong enough reason to perform the task. Passion comes when you connect a task with the context of your life. For an athlete, passion comes in the dream and satisfaction that the tough, lonely workout is taking you toward the vision. It comes in a marriage when you realize that you are serving a more important goal than immediate self-gratification. It comes in a job when you connect the accomplishment of that job with a purpose that matters to you – at work or at home.

Organizations are the stewards of people’s passion and talent, and leadership is about creating an environment where people are inspired to participate with their full selves. This happens when we find out what matters most to people and then support them to experience their day-t0-day jobs as a tool to make it happen. When you are able to maintain this kind of perspective, you don’t just get committed, loyal employees and a better workplace, you get a meaningful life.

Gratitude in a Culture of Complaint

Below is a letter to the editor I submitted to Canada’s Macleans magazine this week in response to an article in the February 8th edition.

Nancy MacDonald (The War On The Civil Service, Feb 8., 2010) makes an important contribution to the current public service reality in Canada. As an organizational development consultant in the both the public and private arenas, I, too, have witnessed the discouragement that is rampant in the public sector. Yet, in spite of often working under a lack of political and societal support, I have seen mediocrity transformed into greatness at every level of the public service. Make no mistake: the majority of civil servants care. They care about their work, and they care about Canada. I have met many leaders in government who are more than qualified to work in the private sector for a greater financial return, but, driven by public service values, will not waver in their determination to serve the public good. In this culture of complaint, it’s too easy to take for granted the quality of life that the citizens of Canada experience largely because of the quality of our public service. Maybe our problem is that most of us have simply had it too easy. If we care about Canada, we better care about our civil servants. Whether it’s the clerk behind the desk where we pick up our passport, or the RCMP officer who is laying her life on the line so we can sleep at night, or a social service agent tirelessly attending to the needs of neglected children, it would do each of us good to replace entitlement with gratitude. And in the process, we would be doing our part to contribute to a more civil society. Our focus, after all, on “those people,” is a defense against our own responsibility. There is a strong correlation between well-performing democracies and economics and a strong public service. History informs us of this.