Right now I’m reading a book by Nate Silver called The Signal and the Noise: Why So Many Predictions Fail — but Some Don't. In it he cites a quote from an essay by Isaiah Berlin about Leo Tolstoy that is attributed to the Greek poet Archilochus (I believe in giving proper attribution for quotes I use but that’s one hell of a chain of custody). The quote is, “The fox knows many little things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.”
This week’s column is about one big thing made from lots of little things.
I guess I’d say the One Big Thing is “walking the walk” or maybe “putting your money where your mouth is.” It’s a chance for me to say that I try to follow my own advice. I struggle with this a bit as a life coach because I give out lots and lots of advice. It’s hard to follow all of it all the time. I do the best I can, of course, because it’s important to me to be authentic and sincere. My guess is few folks want to have much contact with (much less hire) a sincere hypocrite.
So that’s my One Big Thing. My Many Little Things reflect the (mostly) happy craziness that has swirled around me lately and how I’m dealing with it. Times when I’m confronted with chaos are the ones that most challenge my ability to follow all the advice that feels easy when things are calm.
As I mentioned in last week’s column, I’ve had to do some recovery from the loss of our dog; I’m coming along quite nicely. I had to tell myself to clear away the things that were going to remind me constantly of loss while I was only able to think of the pain. And I needed to be patient. It’s working. I still feel the sting when I see a pile of dark pillows on our sofa and do a double-take thinking it is Onyx. I feel it when I finish a bowl of food and go to put it on the floor for her to lick (we’re considering naming our next dog “Pre-Rinse”). But overall I can already feel that pain receding and being replaced by happy memories.
Meanwhile, I’ve been incredibly busy doing fun stuff. I’m fortunate to be in the midst of a run of five weekends being away from home doing happy, happy things. There is so much fun and relaxation that keeping it all organized and flowing is verging on stressful. I had to tell myself to plan as best I could, roll with the punches, remember I’m on vacation, and smile. This was especially put to the test Monday when I needed to get from a weekend of gaming fun in Boston to the North Carolina coast for a beach trip with my family. I’ve seldom encountered anything like the chaotic jumble of information which followed the cancellation of my direct flight from Boston to Raleigh that should have had me home in two hours. 15 hours later I made it to the beach. Then I drank three beers. I’m fine now, in case you were worried.
Speaking of my gaming trip to Boston, that was another test. This is probably one of the most fun gaming events I attend because the participants are carefully hand-selected by somebody who REALLY knows what amazing gamers look like. But that also means you are in the company of some folks who are intimidatingly awesome. You get the sense that it is an honor to be there, but also you had better bring your A-game if you want to impress them.
The two games I ran went pretty well, but I couldn’t escape the sense they were fairly run of the mill in the context of the incredibly talented folks who were playing. I was tempted to be pretty critical of my own performance. I needed to remind myself of a couple things.
First, these people are amazing gamers who run and play amazing games. But that doesn’t just make them tough to impress. It makes them people who enhance all the games they play. They were taking the stuff I was putting out there and making it better. They snapped up the plot hooks, made brilliant (or at least comical and well roleplayed) plans, and made sure that everyone had a good time.
Also, these weren’t simply good gamers. These were great people. Kind and generous and warm and friendly. You could feel they wanted you to succeed. And they weren’t going to sit back and make you do it by yourself.
Once all the dice were rolled and the dust settled, I told many folks about how I felt that, while everybody seemed to have fun, I had some concerns about the design of the games I had run. They were the exact opposite structure from those I prefer to run (this was Wide-Narrow-Wide instead of the superior Narrow-Wide-Narrow structure). The response I got was pretty universally that I shouldn’t sweat it and, if this was me off my A-game, they were anxious to see me at my best.
That’s another small thing I’d do well to remind myself and my clients. When you’re doing something you love with people who are awesome and want you to succeed, worrying is a pretty big waste of time. It will be good to take that onboard in the midst of all the fun times to come in the next few weeks.
What advice do you give that you think is hard to follow?
This week’s column is about one big thing made from lots of little things.
I guess I’d say the One Big Thing is “walking the walk” or maybe “putting your money where your mouth is.” It’s a chance for me to say that I try to follow my own advice. I struggle with this a bit as a life coach because I give out lots and lots of advice. It’s hard to follow all of it all the time. I do the best I can, of course, because it’s important to me to be authentic and sincere. My guess is few folks want to have much contact with (much less hire) a sincere hypocrite.
So that’s my One Big Thing. My Many Little Things reflect the (mostly) happy craziness that has swirled around me lately and how I’m dealing with it. Times when I’m confronted with chaos are the ones that most challenge my ability to follow all the advice that feels easy when things are calm.
As I mentioned in last week’s column, I’ve had to do some recovery from the loss of our dog; I’m coming along quite nicely. I had to tell myself to clear away the things that were going to remind me constantly of loss while I was only able to think of the pain. And I needed to be patient. It’s working. I still feel the sting when I see a pile of dark pillows on our sofa and do a double-take thinking it is Onyx. I feel it when I finish a bowl of food and go to put it on the floor for her to lick (we’re considering naming our next dog “Pre-Rinse”). But overall I can already feel that pain receding and being replaced by happy memories.
Meanwhile, I’ve been incredibly busy doing fun stuff. I’m fortunate to be in the midst of a run of five weekends being away from home doing happy, happy things. There is so much fun and relaxation that keeping it all organized and flowing is verging on stressful. I had to tell myself to plan as best I could, roll with the punches, remember I’m on vacation, and smile. This was especially put to the test Monday when I needed to get from a weekend of gaming fun in Boston to the North Carolina coast for a beach trip with my family. I’ve seldom encountered anything like the chaotic jumble of information which followed the cancellation of my direct flight from Boston to Raleigh that should have had me home in two hours. 15 hours later I made it to the beach. Then I drank three beers. I’m fine now, in case you were worried.
Speaking of my gaming trip to Boston, that was another test. This is probably one of the most fun gaming events I attend because the participants are carefully hand-selected by somebody who REALLY knows what amazing gamers look like. But that also means you are in the company of some folks who are intimidatingly awesome. You get the sense that it is an honor to be there, but also you had better bring your A-game if you want to impress them.
The two games I ran went pretty well, but I couldn’t escape the sense they were fairly run of the mill in the context of the incredibly talented folks who were playing. I was tempted to be pretty critical of my own performance. I needed to remind myself of a couple things.
First, these people are amazing gamers who run and play amazing games. But that doesn’t just make them tough to impress. It makes them people who enhance all the games they play. They were taking the stuff I was putting out there and making it better. They snapped up the plot hooks, made brilliant (or at least comical and well roleplayed) plans, and made sure that everyone had a good time.
Also, these weren’t simply good gamers. These were great people. Kind and generous and warm and friendly. You could feel they wanted you to succeed. And they weren’t going to sit back and make you do it by yourself.
Once all the dice were rolled and the dust settled, I told many folks about how I felt that, while everybody seemed to have fun, I had some concerns about the design of the games I had run. They were the exact opposite structure from those I prefer to run (this was Wide-Narrow-Wide instead of the superior Narrow-Wide-Narrow structure). The response I got was pretty universally that I shouldn’t sweat it and, if this was me off my A-game, they were anxious to see me at my best.
That’s another small thing I’d do well to remind myself and my clients. When you’re doing something you love with people who are awesome and want you to succeed, worrying is a pretty big waste of time. It will be good to take that onboard in the midst of all the fun times to come in the next few weeks.
What advice do you give that you think is hard to follow?
