I can be so annoying at times. Just ask my grandkids. I’m always looking for a “teachable moment” to impart the pearls of wisdom I imagine I have picked up over the years.
For example, in a recent vacation to Costa Rica, we went on a nature hike with an amazing guide. He was extremely passionate about the birds, bugs, and beetles in the jungle. He had deep knowledge of every element of the ecosystem – the symbiotic relationships, the parasitic relationships, and the interdependent relationships. He told the story of a flock of birds that accepted a migratory flock of strangers into their “territory.” The resident flock communicated with sounds and movement to the migratory flock to help them find food and avoid predators. The migrating flock was welcome in the resident flock’s home until they started to diminish the sources of food, at which point they were “asked” to move on. The guide moved very slowly, lingered long at each discovery, and went into great detail about each of Nature’s mysteries. He exuded awe and wonder for all the forest facts. For a birder or botanist, the whole tour was endlessly fascinating. As an organizational psychologist, I should have been mesmerized by the dynamics of bird culture. As an impatient hiker, however, I had to manage my nonverbal cues that may have screamed loudly – STEP IT UP.
Oh, the lessons we could learn from Nature: welcome differences, care for strangers, look for ways to help each other succeed, set limits, and yes: slow down, notice your thoughts and feelings, pay attention, and listen.
At dinner that night, of course, I had to share my insights. I wanted my grandkids to understand the challenges of sending and receiving information. I said, “There are two lessons I took away from today’s tour. The first is that, when sending information, it’s important not to assume that whomever you are talking to has the same passion for a topic as you do and has the same desire for pace as you do. The second is that it’s important as a receiver of information to honor and respect the extraordinary insights an expert can bring to what might appear, at surface level, to be just an ordinary “walk in the woods.”
Since my grandkids are generous and big hearted, they listened respectfully to my pontifications. Hmm, perhaps I had more to learn from them than they had to learn from me. I wish more leaders could learn those lessons.
On another beautiful evening in Monteverde, we all gathered for dinner on a sun lit deck in the middle of the rain forest. The service was attentive, warm, and perfectly paced. The food was exquisite – fresh fruit from local farms, tasty local spices, and beautifully prepared plates of seafood and vegetables. And, somehow, the Costa Rican rice and beans were otherworldly. Our conversation meandered around until we landed on the importance of being able to balance relationship and achievement.
Hey, I’m a public school kid who went to a state college and managed to patch together a career that began in jail rehab, morphed into health promotion, and ended up in corporate culture change. My grandkids are in a private school that has a laser focus on placing as many students as possible into “elite schools.” Ahh, what a great opportunity to share my point of view on the perils of overachievement: only Ivy, only the highest status professions, an ever-narrowing spotlight focus on the “prize,” and only the “best.”
First, I had to acknowledge that we probably wouldn’t be sitting in this lovely setting having this conversation if my daughter and son-in-law weren’t high-achieving professionals from elite schools. AND, I have had the pleasure of meeting and getting to know deeply the friends they have developed during their time in those institutions. Still, I had to voice my concerns that the culture in which they were being raised could lead to a never-ending achievement treadmill that could result in a life that left little room for introspection and connection.
Once we started focusing on the importance of relationships, I had to share my story of working with elementary school kids who had no vocabulary for feeling words. I told them the story of creating a contest to see who could generate the largest list of words that described their emotional states at different points in their lives. I gave the kids a framework that would help them think of the broadest variety and range of feeling words. There were five categories: Up, Down, Anger, Fear, and Confusion; and three levels of intensity: High, Medium, and Low. Examples of high intensity “Up” words might include thrilled, ecstatic, elated, over-joyed, etc.
At this point, in spite of their capacious hearts and curious minds, my grandkids couldn’t resist an eye roll. All of this seemed a bit much . . . . . . and it probably was. I’m afraid I was guilty of violating one of the earlier lessons I had so wisely articulated – don’t assume your passion for a given subject is shared by your audience.
Since they love me and accept me for who I am, they were able to manage their reactions to my endless “preaching.” We ended up having a meaningful conversation about the risks and rewards of an over-achieving lifestyle and the importance of creating balance in our lives. I hope the lessons about the importance of introspection and interpersonal connection landed with them, and I sure wish the lessons would land with our “leaders.”
On the last day of our vacation, we signed up for a zip line tour through the cloud forest. There were 11 different lines covering a total of over 2 miles above and through the trees. The guides were extremely friendly, helpful, and safety oriented. I’m sure they were a bit concerned about an 81 year old’s ability to manage the climbing of hills and ladders not to mention zipping through the forests on a high wire. We were all a bit frightened as we stood on the top of a platform swaying in the wind about to be strapped onto a zip line. “Lean back, cross your legs, hold onto the wire with your dominant hand, and pull down hard to break just before you arrive at the next platform,” the guides commanded. “Oh, and don’t brake in the middle or you will be stuck there.” Needless to say, we were all wondering what we had signed up for. Fortunately, we all safely completed the 11 zip lines in spite of our fears. My daughter and granddaughter even did the “Tarzan Jump” which meant stepping off a high platform, dropping straight down, and swinging up into the trees.
Aha! Another teachable moment: being able to face your fears often results in unexpected thrills. AND, doing the research, taking all the necessary safety precautions, listening to instructions, and staying relaxed also make for better experiences and outcomes.
I don’t know how many, if any, of the life lessons I tried to impart to my grandkids during this Costa Rican vacation will have any lasting impressions. I do know that I learned so much from them during this time together, and I can’t wait until the next experience.
I’m hoping our world leaders will someday learn the lessons I tried to teach my grandkids—even if they find it annoying. May it be so.
