Lemonade

Image of a glass of lemonade
Photo: Used under terms listed at Pixabay.com

Everything happens for a reason.

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

Has anyone ever told you those platitudes in response to some great loss you have experienced? Do you find them as annoying as I do?

Sometimes stuff happens that just plain sucks. It never stops hurting. I don’t care how good the lemonade is.

I started my career as a software engineer. I worked hard to be the best software engineer I could be. I loved the work. I loved the challenge of crafting tight code to do really cool things. I loved pretty much everything about being a software engineer. It was like getting paid to solve puzzles. How cool is that?

And then, something happened.

My hands gave out. I won’t go into the details. They’re not important. Bottom line is, I typed too fast for too long and I was in pain. A lot of pain. Pain that drove me to see a slew of doctors in search of relief.

After more doctors than I can remember, the quest for a cure came to an end with this conversation with a highly regarded specialist:

Doctor: There’s nothing I can do for you.
Me: How do I make it stop hurting?
Doctor: Stop typing.
Me: That’s what I do. That’s my job.
Doctor: Get a new job.

Just like that. Simple. Matter of fact.

I was angry. But I also came to appreciate his clear statement of what needed to happen next.

So I did what the doctor suggested. I got a new job. And eventually, it stopped hurting. At least physically.

I was not happy about the need to make this change. There were many days and nights of asking, “Why did this happen?” and “Why me?”

Finally, though, my engineering training kicked in. It was clear that knowing the answers to those questions would not make a difference in where I went next. I could not undo the injury. Knowing why at this stage was pointless.

The only question that mattered was, “What now?”

I was extremely fortunate to work for a company that supported me through the transition. I was able to change jobs without changing companies. The change even opened up a whole new career path.

The company provided adaptive equipment that allowed me to do the much smaller amount of computer input needed in the new role. They changed door handles on restrooms for me because I was no longer able to grasp and turn a round doorknob without excruciating pain. They were amazing.

Despite this support, I was still frustrated.

It felt to me like I was living an extension to the old joke, “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. Those who can’t teach, manage.”

(Side note: This old joke is not at all fair to teachers. Teachers rock!)

As a manager I had a much broader impact than I ever did as a software engineer.

Climbing the corporate ladder was certainly good for my income, too. My new career far exceeded anything I ever imagined.

You could say that lemonade was made. You might even argue that this was a reason that the injury happened.

But, you know what?

It still pains me that I had to stop being a software engineer. Even now, I long for the days of solving puzzles, writing code, creating cool things.

That ladder climbing career change also enabled me to do what I do now – run my own business, spreading joy and laughter wherever it is needed. What I do now has even broader impact than being a manager.

Again, you could argue that is a reason all of this happened.

That doesn’t stop me from feeling the pain of loss.

What bad stuff has happened in your life?

Have you been able to move forward in a new direction?

Can you see that it might even be a better direction?

In most cases, trying to figure out why the bad stuff happened is a fruitless exercise. “Why did this happen?” is the wrong question on which to focus.

What matters is, “What now?”

You don’t have to let go of the pain. It’s going to hurt. It might hurt for a very long time. The pain might never go away.

But you can move on. You can move forward.

Forget about making lemonade. Don’t waste your time trying to discern the reason.

Just move.

Singularly Creative Individual

Photo copyright ©2019 David J Crone. All rights reserved. Taken at COSI exhibit: “Jim Henson: Imagination Unlimited”

Who inspires you?

Last week my daughter treated me to a day at COSI, the Center of Science and Industry, Columbus’ science museum. It was a belated Father’s Day gift and well worth the wait. The main attraction was a special exhibit: “Jim Henson: Imagination Unlimited”.

We both greatly enjoyed this exhibit, remembering fondly the many things brought to life by this singularly creative individual.

“Singularly Creative Individual”. That is exactly what struck me the most as we went through the exhibit. Yes, these creations all came from “The Jim Henson Company.” Clearly, Jim Henson was the driving force behind them. But the Muppets and all of the rest of these fantastical creations were not done by one singular individual. They were brought to life by a team.

If there is one thing that I took away from this exhibit it is the importance of colleagues, friends, and collaborative partners.

While the Muppets would not be what they are without Jim Henson, they also would not be what they are without Frank Oz and Jerry Juhl and Jane Henson.

It was through the collaborative genius of these colleagues that we have the Muppets as we know them today. “Sesame Street”, “The Muppet Show“, “The Muppet Movie“, and “Fraggle Rock” all exist because of the partnership and underlying friendship of these individuals.

During my time in corporate America, the best times were when I had that kind of collaborative, collegial working relationships. The kind of relationship where you eagerly celebrate your collective successes, while also being able to tell each other when they are full of crap.

I often find myself jealous of those who have been able to sustain that level of deep, connected partnership through decades.

Have you seen the biopic movie about Freddie Mercury, “Bohemian Rhapsody”? There is a scene where Freddie gets back with his “Queen” bandmates after a somewhat failed attempt at going solo. To paraphrase, Freddie says, “I had plenty of studio musicians who did exactly what I asked them to do. And that was the problem. I need you guys to tell me when I’m wrong.”

Like any partnership, I’m sure there were times at The Jim Henson Company when the team did not all agree. I’m sure there were spirited debates and challenging conversations. These were not well represented in the exhibit. But, put more than one creative person together in a room and there are bound to be disagreements.

And that’s OK.

True creative types thrive on different ideas.

Do you have a collaborative partner in your work or life? If so, celebrate!

Do you have the beginnings of such a relationship? Nurture it!

Find a friend. Find a person with whom you can give and take; push and be pushed.

To be a singularly creative individual takes more than one person.