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Center for Enlightened Leadership
 
THE LENS – A QUARTERLY E-NEWSLETTER/JOURNAL

Welcome to the sixth issue of The Lens. Last month, my friend Al Porter sent me an 18 minute video of Astronomer Clifford Stoll talking about science and education. Dr. Stoll is frenetic and captivating. His presentation is provocative, fun, and a bit whacky. He closes by sharing the following quote, which he says is inscribed on the Hays Hall Tower Bell..."Why am I here? All truth is one. In this light may science and religion endeavor here for the steady evolution of mankind from darkness to light, from narrowness to broad mindedness, from prejudice to tolerance. It is the voice of life which calls us to come and learn." May we learn from life and from each other.

- Stephen L. Sokolow, Executive Director

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Why Do We Call Them Parties When They Are So Little Fun?
By PAUL D. HOUSTON

Being Spiritual
By STEPHEN SOKOLOW

Regaining Your Inner Smile
By ADAM SOKOLOW

Stories: A Guide to Destiny
By DOMENICO PIAZZA

Caregivers to the Elderly: The Effect of Belief Systems and Behaviors
By BEA MAH HOLLAND with KATHERINE KIMBALL

Two Dynamic School Leaders
By TOM VONA

Optimism Amid Financial Chaos
BY CLAIRE SHEFF KOHN

The Swan Story: A Symbol of Grace
By KATHLEEN ALFIERO

Play On!
By MAYBETH CONWAY

Telling Spiritual Stories
By ROBERT W. COLE

Letters to the Editor
From Our Readers

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Why Do We Call Them Parties When They Are So Little Fun?
By PAUL D. HOUSTON

  Dr. Paul. D. Houston
  Dr. Paul D. Houston
Founding Partner

Having spent the last 14 years in the Washington, D.C. area heading an organization that must interact with the political process, I have seen it close up, and often it isn’t a pretty sight. Otto von Bismarck said that laws are like sausages; it is better not to see them being made. Watching either process too closely will cause a loss of appetite. Now we are in the midst of another major election, with the outcome still in doubt, and we are all getting a heavy dose of sausage making.

In the interest of full disclosure, I am a supporter of Barack Obama. I have met both Obama and John McCain, and for me there is no contest. One is loaded with Washington experience, which in my mind raises real questions of whether he can lead the country in a rational way. He also has an “interesting” temperament. Known for years in Washington circles as someone with a hair trigger who shoots from the hip, McCain raises questions for me of whether I want his finger on the nuclear trigger. The other candidate has much less Washington experience and, because of his relative youth, much less life experience. Yet he has proven to be prescient in many ways, balanced in his responses, and CEO of one of the best-organized and best-run campaigns in U.S. history. He also happens to inspire and seems to seek a brighter future for all Americans. At the very least, he has shown that “hope” is not just another four-letter word.

But that’s not why I support Obama. I “discovered” him about six years ago in reading an article about this young Illinois state senator who had visited a wealthy community in Chicago and had laid the folks out for their lack of civic generosity, telling them that though they had been blessed with material goods they had failed to share their wealth with those in need. They gave him a standing ovation. On the same day he visited a poor black neighborhood in South Chicago and laid them out for blaming everyone else for their problems and made it clear that it was their failure to take responsibility for their families and their own neighborhood. They gave him a standing ovation. It is one thing to tell folks the uncomfortable truth; it is quite another to get them to stand up and cheer you for doing s. Then, of course, his electrifying speech at the 2004 Democratic convention introduced him to the rest of America—and the rest, as they say, is history.

My purpose here, however, is not to stump for Obama or to trash McCain. It is to draw attention to the reality that spiritual principles must reside at the core of the political process. We have seen the damage wrought by infusing religion into the process over the last few political cycles; that is not what I’m talking about here. Sadly, religion tends to divide people. Too often the hidden message is: If you don’t believe and follow the dogma of my religion, then you are dead wrong and therefore a bad person. No! Spirituality is that which bonds us together as human beings—it is super glue for our souls.

What have we seen from McCain thus far? I would say it has been the Dirty D’s—derision, division, and delusion. One of the spiritual principles that Steve Sokolow and I identified early in our work together was “the light attracts the dark.” It has been my experience that those who tend to be the most high-minded and transformative tend to attract the forces of darkness. History is riddled with examples: Mohandas Gandhi, John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Bobby Kennedy, and on and on. When someone calls us to our higher purpose, they are often attacked physically or spiritually. I have talked to any number of people who fear for Obama’s safety for just this reason. Certainly the McCain campaign would never stoop to physical assassination, but his supporters have tried their best to assassinate Obama politically through a campaign of derision—Reverend Wright, the time he spent in Indonesia, claims that he is a secret Muslim. When those tactics didn’t work, Obama was accused of being a “celebrity” like Britney or Paris. Critics have mocked his experience as a community organizer and state senator—this from the party of Lincoln, who had a two-year stint in Congress before becoming President of the United States. They have even made fun of his eloquence. Heavens! How dare we elect a president who is articulate and can draw people’s attention to important issues? How dare we elect someone who the rest of the world likes? Derision. The spiritual principles of light and leadership, a holistic perspective, and a focus on the positive seem to be road kill on this year’s road to the White House.

And we have also seen division. Let’s feature Hillary Clinton on McCain ads so that her supporters, disappointed by the outcome of the primaries, can be lured into supporting McCain. Or perhaps we could choose a woman as McCain’s vice-presidential candidate. Any woman will do, really—even one who has less than two years as governor of a small state. This from the same group who once made fun of Senator Clinton’s husband, who had a scant dozen years as governor of a small state. Oh wait, I keep forgetting that when making sausage, consistency has nothing to do with it.

The numbers make it clear that a united Democratic party is pretty unstoppable this election cycle. So divide up the Democrats. This may be good politics, but is it good leadership? After eight years of a leader who made his mark through increasing fear, and dividing the world up between good (us) and evil (most everyone else, particularly the French), are we now to have a leader whose major campaign strategy drives people apart? There are so many spiritual principles being violated with this one: reverence, a focus on the positive, empowering and uplifting others, hope, and forgiveness, to name a few.

Finally, we have delusion—an old political standby. Delusion is pointing to a black horse and saying it is white. I won’t call it lying exactly—let’s just say it’s creating alternate forms of the truth. When the McCain camp talks about experience, they merely mention Obama’s four years in the Senate, which gets shrunk by a couple of years somehow. Nothing is mentioned about his time in Illinois politics or in community organizing, which may well be one of the best preparations for serving others. The other day I even heard it mentioned that the honors graduate of the Harvard Law School and head of the prestigious Harvard Law Review could have written his financial ticket by going to work with a corporation or a large Wall Street law firm but instead chose to serve the poor in the south side of Chicago. The complaint was then that if he couldn’t take better care of his own finances, how could we entrust him to run the country? Kind of raises the question about the spirituality of greed, doesn’t it? “In as much as you have done it unto the least of these, you really screwed up by not doing it for yourself” or “To whom much is given, much more should be given.” Delusion.

Along with all of you, I’ll be watching this fall’s election closely. We are at a tipping point in the history of our nation. It isn’t so much about change as it is about starting over. We are being offered grace. Let us hope we are smart enough as a people to accept it.

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Being Spiritual
By STEPHEN L. SOKOLOW, Reiki Master

  Dr. Stephen L. Sokolow
  Dr. Stephen L. Sokolow
Executive Director and Founding Partner

How do you see yourself? Do you see yourself as a human being with a spiritual spark? Or perhaps even as a spiritual being in human form? If your answer is “none of the above,” this article may give you some new ways to think about this question; it may also shed some light on what it means to have a spiritual worldview.

Paul Houston and I share Wayne Dyer’s view that at the most fundamental level we truly are spiritual beings who happen to be in human form. But if we are spiritual beings, what does it mean to be spiritual? I believe it means being who we really are, down deep at our core. Being spiritual is a way of thinking, a way of being, a way of acting, and a way of seeing.

A WAY OF THINKING: From a spiritual perspective, each of us is part of something much greater than ourselves. We each have a role to play that not only shapes our own lives but affects those whose lives we touch. As John Donne put it, “No man is an island.” Because we live in community, the way we think and live affects countless others in countless ways. As spiritual beings, we have both the capacity and the obligation to create. We play a crucial role in creating our own life story by the choices we make and the way we respond to life’s challenges.

A WAY OF BEING: From a spiritual perspective, each of us is unique. Our challenge is to discover and be who we really are. We strive to be our authentic selves. We strive to grow and continually evolve into the version of ourselves that represents our highest potential. At our core, being spiritual is about being a good human being. We all have people whom we view as role models of what we consider to be good human beings. Often at a person’s funeral there is conversation and reflection about the kind of person they were and the way they affected others. The people we tend to admire the most, the ones we love the most, the ones we miss the most, are the ones who touch us by their non-self-centered way of being.

A WAY OF ACTING: From a spiritual perspective, what we do and how we do it affects our own lives and the lives of others. Being spiritual means acting with authenticity. It means walking your talk. It means not only focusing on our own well-being but also on the well-being of others. Furthermore, it means acting with compassion and moving beyond our ego in the service of others and the common good.

A WAY OF SEEING: From a spiritual perspective, how we see the world is a function of our level of awareness and attentiveness. We see what we can see and what we are willing to see. Some people see more clearly and further than others, literally as well as figuratively. From higher levels of consciousness we see that everything is connected. We are connected to every other being on this planet. We are connected to nature, to all sentient beings, and to life itself. We are connected to our own higher self. And we are connected to a force greater than ourselves, which we may call God or Source or something else.

What are some other hallmarks of being spiritual? When people are in touch with their higher nature, they tend to see things from a more holistic perspective. The interconnections and interrelatedness of the world become more apparent. From a spiritual perspective, we see the world as a sacred place and appreciate the sanctity of life. Being spiritual means being open to divine energies and allowing those energies to inspire you and flow through you.

The ultimate measure of our ability to embody a spiritual perspective as a way of thinking, seeing, acting, and being is by the effect we have on, and in, the world. The more spiritual we are, the more we will enhance life for ourselves and others. In ways large and small we continually make the world a better place, even if it is for just one other person, or even a tiny critter.

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Regaining Your Inner Smile
By ADAM SOKOLOW

  Adam Sokolow
  Adam Sokolow
Senior Advisor

Last night I read myself to sleep with the May 2008 issue of Discovery magazine. I wove myself into one of its stories about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, a dead zone twice the size of Texas that’s swarming with humanity’s plastic waste. I found myself at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean trying to get to the surface by walking up a mountainous slope of Styrofoam cups and plastic bottles. I saw no fish, nothing alive except for a rich haze of plankton. As far as I could see in every direction were suspended pieces of colorful plastic. The article was quite specific: six pounds of this non-biodegradable trash for every single pound of living plankton.

I never made it to the surface in my dream. I woke up and found that the moisture on my skin wasn’t seawater, it was sweat. It wasn’t just the dream that gave me the creeps; it was the realization that an area twice the size of Texas in the middle of the Pacific Ocean had been rendered toxic and lifeless by humanity’s greed and indifference.

Psychologists call this mood-specific memory. We tend to remember specific things that are consistent with our mood—happy mood, happy memories; bad mood, bad memories. My thoughts about this toxic waste dump in the middle of the Pacific daisy-chained into remembered images of the five CEOs of the major tobacco companies testifying before Congress (not under oath) that they had not intentionally spiked the amount of nicotine in cigarettes to increase sales by making them more addictive. That despite the findings of a panel of experts who said that teen smoking was up and cigarettes had 20% more addictive nicotine than they did five years ago. My day was just beginning, and I was fast forwarding into a bad mood.

I willed myself—much as I was not in the mood to do so—to practice my morning spiritual disciplines. I began practicing yoga, then sat down on my meditation cushion. Within a short time, I felt like I was waking up again, this time from a bad daydream. Meditation is a means for me to reboot my nervous system, like knowing how to get my computer up and running again when it crashes. I felt my mind clear as my inner core strengthened and my body relaxed. I’m always amazed that meditation works. I was no longer angry; it was simply very clear to me that I was appalled by the fact that there was this dead zone of floating plastic twice the size of Texas in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Leaving my apartment, I headed off toward Central Park on my daily foot commute to work. And there it was right in front of me on the sidewalk: a plastic bottle. I imagined this piece of plastic being swept down a storm drain into the Hudson River, then making its way past the Statue of Liberty into the Atlantic Ocean, eventually to live out its non-biodegradable life in one of our great oceanic dumping grounds. “Think globally, act locally” flashed across my mind. This plastic bottle was not going into the ocean. I picked it up and felt good for my effort. I picked up two more pieces of sidewalk trash on my way to the park.

I was in Central Park, approaching the grounds of the Tavern on the Green restaurant, when the fresh smell of topsoil brought me face to face with a man with a shovel planting daffodils. I smiled and said, “You must love your work.” Nodding, he returned my smile and said that over the next couple of weeks he was going to plant 10,000 more daffodils. I reached down and picked up a handful of topsoil and brought it to my nose, its familiar rich scents confirming that life supports life. He commented, “There are more living things in the first six feet of topsoil than all the rest of the surface creatures on our planet.” Then he extended his hand and said, “My name is Joe.” After I introduced myself, Joe went on to inform me that it takes thousands of years for Mother Nature to make this soil; in it there are nematodes, fungus, bacteria, worms, and words for living things that I’d never heard before—all working unseen beneath the surface, playing their part to sustain vibrant, healthy vegetation.

I then mentioned the Pacific dead zone, the humongous environmental nightmare that humanity has inadvertently created through indifference and neglect. He was familiar with it, and we continued chatting about the fact that we are on the top of our planet’s food chain; polluting our oceans is the same as polluting our soil. Nature’s recipes did not include plastic, and yet one day we might end up eating this toxic stuff. Clearly it’s vitally important for everyone to understand that our planet is one interrelated, life-sustaining ecosystem. I felt enriched by our interaction. Joe went back to planting daffodils and I continued on my way, pondering how humans have created both oceanic toxic dead zones and life-enhancing inner-city gardens.

My morning experiences once again reaffirmed how important it is to engage in a regular spiritual practice. Through such practice we gradually develop the inner core of strength necessary for us to regain our emotional balance when confronted with threatening and confusing circumstances. Waking up from a nightmare in an obvious bad mood could have easily darkened my whole day, but once refreshed, I went on to help clean up the world, one plastic bottle at a time. And maybe in some small way my friendly conversation with Joe the gardener added to his having an even better day.

So my reflections on my morning boil down to this: Don’t worry if you lose your balance and stumble. What’s most important is how quickly you can regain your inner smile.

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  Domenico Piazza
  Domenico Piazza
Senior Associate

 When I heard that Patty was moving to Massachusetts, my inner world shattered. She had lived up the street from me since we were children; our friendship, in my mind, had developed into a sort of longing. And where was Massachusetts anyway? I was a small-town boy. I walked past Patty’s house every day in spring and summer to get to “the field.” I had my baseball glove hooked onto my belt and furtively glanced into her back yard where she often played on a swing. When she was there, I waved with false casualness and continued on my way. But on this day, I turned into her driveway. “I heard you’re moving.” “Yeah.” She kicked herself higher and her ponytail spun behind her. “Where to?” “Waltham.” “Where’s that?” “Pretty far.” “Cool. I got to get to my game.” “See ya.” “Yeah, see ya.”

And that was it. Perhaps a month later, I watched her family car pull away, carrying Patty and her younger sister and brother out of my life. During this interminable period, I found myself writing poems. They were all about Patty in one way or another, but disguised in adolescent metaphors to escape discovery. In a short time I wrote hundreds of dreadfully painful poems about loss, unfairness, and unrequited love. I was beginning to practice a craft about which I knew nothing. I had never read a poem and therefore convinced myself of the originality of my efforts.

Ever since that time, writing has become my “way” of understanding and the means by which I can best communicate with others. Many relationships in my adult life began by my offering a piece of writing to someone who seemed the least bit interested. It was, I thought, a safe way to reveal myself.

As I matured, I began the endless discovery of great writing. A college professor once returned a poem of mine with these words scribbled in the margin: “This passage reminds me of Dylan Thomas.” Suddenly I needed to know whom it was I sounded like. I devoured all Thomas’ poems. Shakespeare was presented prosaically in high school, but one day I cut classes and accidentally stumbled into a production of As You Like It in New York City. I was hooked. It was as easy as reading the Bible. Then came D.H. Lawrence, Thomas Wolfe, T.S. Eliot, and James Joyce. What a world I had entered quite innocently—all beginning with Patty’s move, so many years ago, to Massachusetts.

I read voraciously now, I think, because I need to be close to great writing. A book that is not wonderfully written is of no use to me, and I quickly set it aside. It is as if the magical words of great writers become embedded in me, framing the lens through which I engage the world. Each experience with reading and writing alters something deep within me. I know that stories carry in them ancient ideas that speak to our very being through the journeys and struggles of character. James Bonnet, in Stealing Fire from the Gods, says, “Story is the wisdom that can guide you to your true destiny—both temporal and spiritual.”

I thought recently that a worthwhile project for me might be to create stories about learning. More specifically, I would put forth the notion that all great teaching is good story telling. Bonnet suggests that great stories capture the creative unconscious, which Jung identified in myths. Jung explains it this way: “The auditor experiences some of the sensations but is not transformed. Their imaginations are stimulated: they go home and through personal fantasies begin the process of transformation for themselves.”

This resonates with many of my experiences with both reading and film. Such intense stimulation has also occurred when I encounter great works of visual art. Stories stimulate our imaginations, which sets us up for action in the real world. They excite us and convince us that lofty states of mind can be achieved. Stories are also a kind of roadmap that guides our journeys, and they can become a tool kit for problem solving. Ultimately, stories achieve their power by making meaningful associations within us and empower our ability to move from an internal reality to one which acts upon the world. Thus my life is often ignited by some essence in stories, which ultimately finds expression in the actions I take.

Sounds to me like a reasonable description of great teaching. This is my story of practicing the craft of writing as a means of testing its message in the world. When the world responds with a new story, the frame for new possibilities grows larger.

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Caregivers to the Elderly: The Effect of Belief Systems and Behaviors
By BEA MAH HOLLAND with KATHERINE KIMBALL

  Dr. Bea Mah Holladn
  Dr. Bea Mah Holland
Founding Partner and Executive Coach

I recently had the privilege of spending a week in Kentucky with my 95-year-old mother-in-law Linnie. On July 2 her life underwent a drastic change as the result of a series of medical issues. Initially a blood clot required hospitalization and surgery, and a day after she was discharged she was readmitted for congestive heart failure. Her life changed dramatically from that of a fiercely independent woman who lived in her own house and drove herself to the grocery store, church, hairdresser, and doctors. Suddenly Linnie became someone much more limited in her activities. She currently needs people to be with her overnight as well as for part of the day.

While I was with her in early September, I witnessed the visits of both a nurse and a social worker. While the help of such caregivers is definitely needed and appreciated, the difference in their effect on Linnie was palpable. Her son Peter (who is my husband)  and I have thought about the helpers’ differing attitudes, belief systems, and styles, and their impact on Linnie’s well-being.  

Prior to Linnie’s July 2 medical emergency, she had had few recent medical issues. In the 1980s she had three serious cancer surgeries, yet she recovered and there appeared to be no impact on her quality of life. Her husband died in 1992, and breast cancer took the life of her eldest daughter in 1999. Throughout these cataclysmic challenges in her life, Linnie has remained mentally very alert—able to converse fluently and hold her own at social gatherings. She has continued to keep track of all family members’ comings and goings—“Michael and Mary Anne are leaving Chicago at 4 so will be in town around 9” and  “Julie is off work then, so maybe she could drive David to the airport at 6.”

As in many families, Linnie’s children and grandchildren have a strong presence in her life. A daughter and granddaughter who live nearby have helped with shopping and household tasks, as well as providing occasional company for dinner. A cleaning service is the only professional help that Linnie tapped.

With the onset of Linnie’s medical issues on July 2, life changed. She had to spend time recovering from surgery and hospitalization. After her second hospitalization, Linnie was moved to the adjacent assisted-living facility where she had physical therapy, occupational therapy, and social services. After her third hospitalization, she was transported to another assisted-living facility that was a wing of a nursing home. Through all of this, she definitely needed help, but was not helpless.  

I noticed the stark contrast in the helpers who visited Linnie in her home. The nurse stressed independence and encouraged Linnie to do as much as she felt that she could handle, whereas the social worker assumed Linnie’s incapability and inability to handle things. The nurse’s approach was very personal and direct. She stated that if Linnie wanted to do something, she should try it; if she enjoyed eating something, eat it;  if she wanted to travel to a family event, she should do so—with family input on what is necessary to make the trip a success, of course. This approach seemed to stem from a belief that doing what one cares about can only have a positive effect.

The social worker’s approach, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. While she was also direct, she was not personally engaged with Linnie and spoke more to Linnie’s paid caregiver, Linnie’s son, and me, seeming to assume Linnie’s lack of competence and thereby infantilizing her. She communicated to us that Linnie should be careful at all times and was probably incapable of most tasks, including caring for herself. She told Linnie that her memory is slipping: “You said one week ago, and it was two weeks ago” and “You didn’t remember your caregiver’s name.”

All of us perceived that the social worker believed that Linnie was deteriorating, even though the paid caregiver, her son, and I saw Linnie as doing very well, considering that over the past two months she had cycled through several medical and care institutions, doctors, therapies, combinations of medication, caregivers, and—yes!—even us relatives!

I felt like cheering when both Peter and Linnie’s day companion contradicted the social worker’s statement, letting her know that they disagreed with her. The caregiver gave an example of how, on the previous Friday, the caregiver had told Linnie about her worry about her granddaughter’s health and, on the following Monday, Linnie inquired at to how her granddaughter was doing. Peter, too, was able to bring a contextual perspective to Linnie’s situation, reminding all of us that memory loss is often an offshoot of medication adjustments and post-operative recovery.

The attitudes of these two caregivers have had pronounced and differing effects on their patient. With the nurse’s positive messages and encouragement to try anything that feels doable, Linnie reasserts herself and moves to reestablish a level of independence. She eats and does things she enjoys, attempts things that look doable; as a result, her life becomes more enjoyable. On the other hand, the message of the social worker brings about negative outcomes. She assumed that Linnie was deteriorating, and treated her accordingly. This diminished Linnie, who sees the social worker as someone who does not believe in her or her recovery—thus setting up doubt and worries in Linnie’s mind about her prospects. This could become a self-fulfilling prophecy, as “seeing is believing” morphs into “believing is seeing,” as illustrated in the Pygmalion effect and related research.  

“The pretzel” is an apt metaphor that illustrates the wide gap between the two approaches. Though Linnie is medically limited in the amount of salt she can consume, she has always enjoyed salted pretzels enormously. The nurse said, “Yes, go ahead. It won’t hurt you to have one every day.” The social worker (maybe not surprisingly) took a harder line; she feels that if a patient is on a low-sodium diet, no pretzels should be allowed. While this raises such questions as “What is the importance of quality of life?” and “Is a longer but less enjoyable life worth it?” it appears—and has been shown to be significant—that state of mind and pleasure and enjoyment may more than balance out the harm of a single pretzel.

We know the benefits of appreciative and positive attitudes, beliefs, and styles, whether for a baby who has lived 95 seconds or my mother-in-law who has lived 95 years. Well-established research studies have documented how, for example, children who are told they are special and gifted (even when they have been told so erroneously) rise to the occasion and perform accordingly. In a similar but frightening way, children who are told they are less able to learn also perform accordingly. Studies on attitude (optimist or pessimist, glass half empty or half full) show that attitudes often determine success, as well as the capability to attempt and achieve—and even (critical to Linnie) longevity. Those who are diminished and are told often that they “can’t” usually “don’t”; those who are encouraged and told that they “can” often surprise even those who believe in their ability to achieve what look like impossible goals.

The more I think about Linnie’s situation and the attitudes of her caregivers, the more I am convinced that this may be a very crucial element in her recovery. Attitude, belief systems, and behaviors are important to all of us. We are all living “in the dash”—the time between one’s birth-day and one’s death-day. My recent experience with Linnie, who is currently more vulnerable than she has ever been, gives me firsthand experience in wanting to blow on flames just enough to make them glow brighter rather than to extinguish them.  

The “by-the-book” social worker was redeemed a little by acknowledging how blessed Linnie was to have the daily caring of family, friends, and neighbors. I coach and consult in business, health care, and educational institutions, and have seen firsthand the power of positive emotions and appreciative inquiry. I know how these belief systems, attitudes, and behaviors could have a profound impact if they were universally adopted by caretakers of the elderly. We are an aging society, and most of us have experienced or will in the near future experience health-care issues of our own parents and, indeed, ourselves. My observation of Linnie’s caregivers convinces me that finding help that addresses her issues in a positive fashion will make all the difference in the world. While the jury is out, for the moment Linnie is recovering—albeit slowly—a sense of confidence, capability, and independence.

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Two Dynamic School Leaders
By TOM VONA

  Dr. Thomas Vona
 

Dr. Thomas Vona
Senior Associate and Mentor

For the past two years I have had the opportunity to mentor two individuals through the New Jersey Leaders to Leaders program. This is a comprehensive mentoring and induction program for new school leaders in the State of New Jersey. Both of these gentlemen (residents) serve as assistant principals—one at the middle school level and one at the high school level.

As I got to know them, I began to see characteristics that bode very favorably for their success as they advance in their careers. I also came to appreciate many of their values, beliefs, and principles that I believe will enable them to succeed as educational leaders. First and foremost, these are young men who truly care about others, especially the young people they serve. The decisions I saw them make were made with those students in mind. The first question they ask themselves is, What is best for the student or students involved?

I have also observed that they care a great deal about the teachers with whom they work and try to lead in a way that encourages and motivates those teachers to bring out the best in their students. One of the ways they have demonstrated their caring is how diligently each of them has worked in the areas where they felt least secure when they first began their new assignments: namely, curriculum and supervision and evaluation. As new administrators, these were areas where they had little experience. These were the first areas in which they sought advice and guidance, both from me as their mentor and from others in the district; these were also the areas in which they attended their first professional development conferences and workshops as administrators. Both have shown much growth in these important aspects of administration during the past two years. Because of their efforts, they have been able to work confidently with teachers on curriculum and to offer concrete and valuable recommendations during the supervision and evaluation process.

In my capacity as mentor, I have had the opportunity to sit in on disciplinary conferences, parental conferences, teacher observations, and post-observation conferences. In these instances I saw my residents use these meetings as teaching/learning opportunities, especially in the disciplinary conferences that I attended. Students left those conferences not just realizing that they had done something wrong, but also recognizing how they could respond more appropriately in a similar situation the next time. They weren’t belittled or made to feel inferior because of their misbehavior but saw that there was a better path for them to take. Parents who often came to the school angry left the office thanking one of my residents at the end of a conference; that was because they were treated with respect and their child was dealt with in a fair and balanced manner.

Aside from formal settings such as those just mentioned, I often had the opportunity to informally visit classrooms, the gymnasium, the cafeteria, or just walk the halls between periods with my residents, and in each of these instances I saw young administrators who were open, accessible, and interested in those they were serving, who were looking for the best in people, and who were greeted in an enthusiastic manner. This reinforced my belief that they were on the right track and on their way to becoming successful educational leaders.

While it is my belief that both of these gentlemen exhibit, to some degree, certain of the dimensions of leadership espoused by Paul Houston and Stephen Sokolow in The Spiritual Dimension of Leadership, I would like to focus on one that was highlighted through an activity that was part of the New Jersey Leaders to Leaders program. That is the role of attention in being an enlightened leader. In the second year of the administrative internship program, each resident must complete an action research project that will benefit his/her school or district. It must address a need of the resident’s school or district and be approved by the mentor as well as the district’s superintendent.

In the case of the high school assistant principal, this was something that he was going to be responsible for in his second year in the position, so it was a natural subject for his action research project. It had to do with an advisor/advisee program that had been in operation for a few years and that hadn’t been given much attention since the principal who instituted it had left the district; the program was floundering and needed an overhaul and new direction. While there wasn’t such an obvious program for the middle school assistant principal to tackle, he was very interested in the relationship between teacher/parental contact and its effect on student performance in school. This included grades, behavior, and social development. By placing a great deal of attention on each of these areas in the two schools, and, in the process, by communicating how they felt about these issues, these administrators demonstrated their enthusiasm for seeing these projects become reality.

Each of my residents gave a great deal of attention to the concerns in their schools; they formed committees of teachers to work on these programs, they asked staff for their feedback, and they used their own time to work on these issues themselves rather than leaving it all to others. They soon realized that each of their staffs was paying attention to what they were doing and, thus, they were able to plant seeds for the new programs and ways to operate those programs that were formulated during the 2007-2008 school year and will be implemented during the 2008-2009 school year. For these programs to be successful, each of the leaders will have to continue to focus his attention on the program he introduced and planned so well last year. Through their continued attention, others in the organization will realize that these are important areas that they should continue to work on. The more they do that, the more successful each of these programs has the potential to be.

My formal work with these individuals through the New Jersey Leaders to Leaders program has come to an end, and I recently recommended them for their Standard Principal Certification. I did so confidently knowing that they not only met the key provisions as outlined by the New Jersey State Department of Education but that they are quality individuals with high moral values and deeply held principles who will do the very best job they can for the children they serve. Working with them gave me a great deal of hope for the future of public school administration in the State of New Jersey.

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Optimism Amid Financial Chaos
By CLAIRE SHEFF-KOHN

  Claire Sheff-Kohn
 

Claire Sheff-Kohn
Senior Associate and Mentor

Wall Street and financial markets around the globe are reeling as our most respected financial institutions are taken over by the federal government, are forced to declare bankruptcy, or are lucky enough to be loaned billions by the Feds to stay solvent. And experts say the last shoe has yet to drop. Mix in the ongoing crisis in the housing market and increases in unemployment rates and you have a rather depressing state of affairs. But there are real-life heroes out there, people who are guided by ethical values and the good of humankind rather than personal power and greed, and who give me a sense of optimism and hope.

I encountered the first of these two heroes on one of my many trips to the bookstore when I bought Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace…One School at a Time, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. The book’s back cover contains the following statement:

“In 1993 a mountaineer named Greg Mortenson drifted from an impoverished Pakistan village in the Karakoram mountains after a failed attempt to climb K2. Moved by the inhabitants’ kindness, he promised to return and build a school. Three Cups of Tea is the story of that promise and its extraordinary outcome. Over the next decade Mortenson built not just one but fifty-five schools—especially for girls—in the forbidding terrain that gave birth to the Taliban. His story is at once a riveting adventure and a testament to the power of the humanitarian spirit.”

I shared my enthusiasm for the book with colleagues, who all read it with little prompting. Coincidentally, my alma mater, Stonehill College, featured the book as part of their orientation for incoming freshmen. Each year, all Stonehill freshmen read the same book during the summer preceding their arrival on campus as a means for building community and shared values. The author is then brought on campus to speak to the new students, as well as the whole Stonehill community, including alums, who also are invited.

As a result, I was fortunate to be able to attend this year’s presentation by Greg Mortenson, and to bring my colleagues with me. We heard him vividly describe his experiences and his incredible feat in raising the funds to support his efforts, largely through schoolchildren and his “Pennies for Peace” campaign. As Mortenson said, “You can create educated patriots or illiterate fighters.” He also explained through an African proverb why he is building schools primarily for girls: “If you educate a boy, you educate an individual; if you educate a girl, you educate a community.”

He attributed the title of the book to Haji Ali, a village chief in Korphe, Pakistan, who said, “Here (in Pakistan and Afghanistan), we drink three cups of tea to do business; the first you are a stranger, the second you become a friend; and the third, you join our family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything—even die.”

The U.S. military now requires officers and service academy students to read the book. Mortenson told of receiving e-mails from high-ranking military officers agreeing with his view that listening, understanding other cultures, building relationships, educating children, and building capacity within native populations to manage their own affairs are the pathways to peace. My colleagues and I hope to bring Mortenson to our school district and are seeking funding now.

I discovered my second hero the same way I did the first—by perusing the new arrivals at the bookstore. I was attracted by the title, Creating a World Without Poverty: How Social Business Can Transform Our Lives, and by the vague recollection that I had heard something about the author on National Public Radio.

The book tells of Muhammad Yunus’ life as a native of Bangladesh who was educated at Dhaka and Vanderbilt Universities, the latter through a Fulbright scholarship. He took over the economics department at Chittagong University in the early 1970s and later founded Grameen Bank. He is described in the book as a “pioneer of microcredit, an economic movement that has helped lift millions of families around the world out of poverty.” Grameen Bank and Yunis were the 2006 recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize.

  Creating a World Without Poverty—grounded in the belief that “traditional capitalism cannot solve problems of inequality and poverty because of its view of people as solely profit-driven,” and that “humans have other drives and passions, including spiritual, social, and altruistic”—describes a new movement: “social business, where the creative vision of the entrepreneur is applied to today’s most serious problems: feeding the poor, housing the homeless, healing the sick, and protecting the planet.” The book tells the story of Yunis and Grameen Bank, as well as stories about other social businesses. I hope to persuade my business and computer education department to start covering this new field of social business and ethical entrepreneurship.

Going back to Greg Mortenson, he said there is an increase (now 40%—up from 20% in the 1980s and 1990s) of college graduates who report that they want a career in which they can contribute to society and make a difference. Now that’s cause for optimism!

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The Swan Story: A Symbol of Grace
By KATHLEEN ALFIERO

  Kathleen Alfiero
 

Kathleen Alfiero
Associate

Do you believe in signs? My friend Kathy and I talked about signs the first time we met. We knew quickly that we had a lot in common. In particular, we were both way into self-improvement. It was a theme in most of our conversations. Even when we were “eighth-grade giggling” about something silly, it was there. What is the meaning of life? What will it be like when we transition out of here? Yes, we believed in signs.

Kathy was brilliant, curious, a consummate student, pretty, a great friend, an enthusiastic health teacher and Outward Bound instructor, an expert skier, white-water rafter, sea kayaker (we sure didn’t have everything in common), and a wonderful daughter and sister who lived her life with her eyes and heart wide open.

On April 13, 1998, Kathy passed away at age 45. I had the privilege to be with her when she took her last earthly breath. Two things came to my mind the moment that her sister said, “Her heart has stopped.” I thought that I’d better look at the clock to record her time of death. I knew that her mother and brother would want to know. It was 8:04 p.m. It then occurred to me that she must already know (at least) some of the answers to the questions we had talked about for years. Besides feeling overwhelmingly sad during those first moments, I felt slightly amused. I guess it’s because I thought, “I’ll be darned, now she knows more than me!”

It was then that I started wondering whether she would send me a sign.

Kathy and I belonged to an amazing women’s group. Six of us have met every few weeks since 1995 at restaurants mostly in the Boston area. We consider ourselves to be midwives to each other’s dreams. We speak of Kathy often.

Prinny is an interesting, lovely woman who had been a part of our group from the beginning. She is a shaman who is extremely knowledgeable about Native American folklore. All six of us owned the book, Medicine Cards. This book tells tell stories about the symbolism of animals that cross our paths. The belief is that animals have a message for us, if we’re paying attention.

A couple of months before Kathy’s death, her doctor had suggested that she do the things that mattered to her as soon as she could. Kathy called each of us and told us that her treatment wasn’t working. Right after Kathy and Prinny talked, Prinny had a vision of a beautiful white swan. According to the “Medicine Cards,” a swan is the symbol of grace. Prinny called each of us and assured us that we were all in a state of grace during this time. We would be blessed as we lived through this journey with Kathy. It was a relief to be reminded of what I already knew. I felt better.

The next day, Prinny called again to tell us this story. Right after she had spoken with each of us about her vision, she left her house in Arlington, Massachusetts to drive to a meeting. Arlington is a Boston suburb, busy with traffic at all times of the day. She had been on the road for about 15 minutes when there, in the middle of the four-lane road, was a huge white swan. Prinny stopped her car and jumped out quickly, noticing that cars were swerving around the swan. Everyone seemed oblivious or indifferent to the unusual sight. She assertively put her hands up to stop the cars. Drivers quickly obeyed, allowing her to approach the swan safely.

Prinny is a whisperer of all animals. She moved slowly toward the swan and noticed that its wing seemed hurt. As she knelt down, she extended her hands so that she could pick the swan up with confidence, gathering it up from its warm underbelly. The swan stayed calm and looked up at Prinny as if it felt grateful. In a spontaneous meditation, Prinny assured her new friend of her good intentions. It was a silent and powerful exchange. The swan laid its head back indicating it was ready for the ride. Alongside the road was a deep grassy embankment—a resting place with a natural soft cot perfect for a wounded creature. As if it were a planned ceremony, Prinny laid the swan on the rich green altar. “Be safe,” she said aloud.

While driving to find the nearest phone, Prinny reflected about what had just happened. How magical life is, she thought for the trillionth time. Answering her urgent call a few minutes later, the game warden told Prinny that it was hard to believe her story. She had never received a call about a swan in this area and said, “Besides, swans do not let people hold them. Are you sure it was a swan?”

“It’s waiting for you,” Prinny told the woman. “Please hurry.”

When she called me, I asked Prinny, “ Now that you’ve held this amazing symbol of grace—can you describe what grace feels like?”

“Grace feels soft, silky and billowy, dense and warm, bold, strong, gentle and light. Grace is absolutely beautiful. You can hold it in your arms.”

This thought occurs to me: The path of least resistance is the same as the path of much allowing. A swan’s natural inclination is to resist being held by humans, yet this wounded bird let go and allowed my friend to pick it up and carry it to safety. We all have opportunities to allow good things to come to us. I know that I am in the state of grace when I realize that, no matter what, all is well.

Kathy has given me at least one sign. When I told her brother that she passed away at 8:04 p.m., his face went pale. He told me that two days before Kathy left her physical body, she asked him to take the large hospital clock off the wall and give it to her. Propped up on her hospital bed, she held it in her arms (Kathy hadn’t talked at all that day), and studied it for about five minutes. Then she handed it back to him. “8:04,” she said peacefully.

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Play On!
By MAYBETH CONWAY

  Maybeth Conway
 

Maybeth Conway
Senior Associate

Three recent experiences set the backdrop for this contribution to The Lens. Together, they provide a prologue for my summer reflections on the wonder of playfulness:

• Early in the summer, stopped at an intersection, I noticed the message board in front of an elementary school. It encouraged parents to seek out playful learning experiences for their children and reminded all of us that playing and learning go hand-in-hand.

• At midsummer, I attended a multi-generational 30th-anniversary party. The guest list included a number of extremely talented young adults who had recently completed demanding academic programs and were now being courted by some of our nation’s most prestigious employers. These inspiring young professionals were confidently seeking a career path that included meaningful challenges, high pay, and room for rapid advancement. They were equally attuned to the culture of the work environment; the potential for play, they felt, was of paramount importance.

• To close out the summer, I gleefully followed my beloved World Champion Boston Red Sox to Camden Yards. Before the game, I met Dan, a gracious Baltimore gentleman who embodied the wonder of a playful spirit. Dan is a professional clown with the Big Apple Circus organization. However, he has left the bright lights of the circus tent behind to bring his joyful talents to gravely ill young patients in the Johns Hopkins Children’s Hospital. His tales were as heart-warming as they were heart-wrenching.

What is it about play that makes learning more powerful, work more agreeable, and suffering more endurable? How does an empowered leader strike the delicate balance that best nurtures playful productivity for all ages?

To explore these questions, I first turned to those child development specialists who have a clear understanding of the role of play in children’s growth. Consistently, they tell us that through play, children learn complex lessons. They develop crucial cognitive skills including the ability to analyze, synthesize, hypothesize, and make critical judgments. They also cultivate habits of mind that include creativity, flexibility, and risk taking. Child development specialist James L. Hymes, Jr. offers the following description of playtime:

“It is language time. Problem-solving time. It is memory time, planning time, investigating time. It is organization-of-ideas time when the young [child] uses his mind and body and his social skills and all his powers in response to the stimuli he has met.” James L. Hymes, Jr.

        That explains why play is such a powerful catalyst for early learning. Now, what about the adult world? Brain researchers tell us that the power of play is ageless. In fact, the more we cultivate habits of mental, physical, and emotional playfulness throughout our lifetime, the more productive, flexible, and content we will be. Lighthearted, playful activity actually signals our body to release endorphins that invigorate performance and promote physical well-being. Mental health professionals endorse playfulness as a natural antidote for daily stress and a powerful stimulant for emotional enthusiasm. Psychologist Carl Jung reminds us that,

“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.” Carl Jung

Within the business sector, there’s a growing appreciation for the promise of playfulness. From the aromatic filleting floors of the Pikes Place Fish Market to the innovative cubbies of Google’s corporate headquarters to Ben and Jerry’s ice cream plant, some highly successful businesses are extolling play as a simple, cost-effective organizational resource that strengthens recruitment, improves daily attendance, fosters innovation, enhances productivity, and increases employee retention. In challenging economic times, playtime is viewed as an invaluable corporate asset.

For some leaders, this merger of work and play may be long overdue; for others, it may present hefty challenges. For starters, they may not like to play too much. Those of us who grew up with the Protestant work ethic may have difficulty abandoning the notion of idle time and on-the-job frivolity as anything but the devil’s workshop. More serious leaders may eschew interoffice volleyball and corporate pep rallies. Yet we know that today’s new employees want more than a paycheck and a pat on the back for a job well done. Like it or not, the effective leader probably needs to promote playful professionalism.

The growing body of literature on playfulness in the corporate culture includes many laundry lists of possible activities with varying degrees of sophistication and appeal, but with surprisingly few general guidelines for aspiring leaders. To find this information, one must return to those experts on childhood play. From their writings, I offer three simple suggestions for aspiring leaders of adult play:

Play It Safe. Players should never be forced or cajoled into an activity that they see as physically or emotionally threatening. Fun should never be purchased at any player’s expense.

Player’s Choice. Players need to assume a central role in designing and developing play options. One player’s play is another’s poison. Play options should honor many interests and should always include an element of personal choice.

Play Along. The leader can go a long way toward evening the playing field by joining in. A joyful romp on the playground removes barriers, opens communication, and celebrates our shared humanity.

Freidrich Froebel is widely recognized as the father of modern kindergarten. He offers an elegant testimony to the power of play:

“Play is the purest, the most spiritual, product of man at this stage, and it is at once the prefiguration and imitation of the total human life, —of the inner, secret, natural life in man and in all things. It produces, therefore, joy, freedom, satisfaction; repose within and without, peace with the world. The springs of all good rest within it and go out from it.” Freidrich Froebel

It’s September. The school billboard now reads, Welcome Back! My talented young friends have landed great new jobs. I trust that Dan is bringing cheer to some very special hospital patients. Though traditionally this is the month when children are told that it’s time to get back to work, I’d like to suggest that all children, all adults, and all empowered leaders Play On.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Telling Spiritual Stories
By ROBERT W. COLE

  Robert W. Cole
 

Robert W. Cole
Managing Editor
and Senior Associate

Sometimes the special moments in life are tiny ones, over almost before you know they’ve happened. Life comes at you fast, as the insurance commercial insists. Be prepared. Better still, be present so you don’t miss it.

One morning years ago—yet another day in yet another airport—I stopped to buy a cup of coffee. Coffee in hand, I waited at the register to pay. A small African-American lady, not young, told me how much I owed without looking up at me. Normal airport behavior, especially for a person whose working life is countless anonymous transactions. I thanked her politely as I paid, and something in my voice—who knows what?—caused her to lift her eyes to mine.

She did more than just glance at me; she saw into me, and said simply, “I see you.”

I answered just as simply, “And I see you.” Our eyes held, for far less time than it takes me to write this; I touched her hand, and then it was over. I walked away feeling as if I had been struck by gentle lightning.

I’m finding it hard to write about this because the event defies my ability to explain what happened. So little, really, but it felt like so much, and it has stayed with me ever since. That little lady and I somehow saw one another’s innermost selves—the divine spark of the other. No facades, no shields. I fancy that both of us were changed, if only a bit, by that divine moment. I know I was.

Since then I have come to understand that such moments are always near to us, every moment of every single day. As the amazing Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote, “These things were here and but the beholder wanting.” The lesson: Behold! The universe has not moved away from us, out of our ken. It is here, all around us, as it has always been. It is us. Sacredness and spiritual power wait patiently to be noticed and, being noticed, to be made a proper part of our everyday lives.

As I thought about this story and its power in my life, it occurred to me that so far most of our essays for The Lens have told the stories or observations of those of us who have contributed. I know this has been true for me. And maybe this is natural, since The Lens is still new and finding its identity.

But The Lens is all about empowerment, and something seems to be missing: your stories. How does empowerment—or feelings of dis-empowerment, or spirituality—play out in your life? What do you do, what have you done when you’ve found yourself in such a place? Is it too much to hope that we might hear from you, and blend your stories, experiences, learnings, and knowings into something that causes CFEL to become greater and more potent than it was before?

Let’s have a conversation. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll really see one another—and learn wondrous new things about ourselves, and pass those precious learnings along to others. Send your stories—300-600 words, please—to literacy@mindspring.com.

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Letters to the Editor
From Our Readers

I just (finally) read the stories in July's The Lens. Wow! Each angle was wonderfully addressed.
- Marilyn Neagley, Shelburne, Vermont

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