Monday, June 25, 2012

Is your dream good for you?

If you, like me,  have spent much time in the late eighties  and nineties's brought up on a steady diet of stories like Roger Bannister or phrases like 'burning the midnight oil' , you probably have this Victorian affliction of believing that incredible success comes with incredible hard work. 

Malcolm Gladwell weighed in and estimated this effort to be about 10,000 hours of rigorous work and a couple of Texas sized oil wells.  But here is the thing - how do I know if I want to put in those 10000 hours? How do I know if I do, I will be successful and happy? (See what I did there? managed to sneak that happiness bit in? I am clever like that but more about that later.) 

Let's back up a little bit. Let's think about the time when we were sixteen (if you are sixteen and are reading this, you are incredibly lucky - I wish I had the internet around when I was 16) and had a Dream - to be a dashing fighter pilot with a Clark Gable moustache.  Or an sultry actress wrapped in intrigue and mystery. Or an artist. well..you know.. The Dream.

Most of us are romantic about our dreams - we have the dream that we do because something about the dream appeals to our soul in a deep, stirring way. 

For some its a clever turn of language and the imagination that's the style and world of a Terry Pratchett, the speed and instincts of a MIG fighter pilot reacting in split seconds, the rush of flying a machine that's faster than sound and sleeker than light. For some, its the sheer mystique of a Madhubala or the ability to make millions believe or lust. Warren Buffett as a benevolent and genius investor is the substance of (some) dreams. Roger Federer makes me fall in love with him a little every time I see him describe delicate arcs to carve out winners of breathtaking finesse. 
I think that romance is incredibly important - its what wakes you up and puts you to sleep - sometimes its just pride in yourself and your ability to 'do' and 'be', sometimes its a faraway dream, but there's romance in that dream. That romance is fuel. it is energy. 

There's a way of getting to that dream - and for the luckier ones, we actually find the way - what do you actually do for every minute of those 10,000 hours to get you to that dream - the 'process' of getting to that dream. For anyone wanting to be like Roger Federer, its countless hours of training, hitting a shot thousands of times a day to get that effortless arc right, thinking about small things like racquet weight and grip, wrist position and sugar levels - you know, the process? For Pratchett fans, its possibly less about being clever with word play than about being very meticulous with the piecing together of many little sub-plots, taking great care that they add to create a delightful little story, thinking and being emotional about real issues about humanity and weaving them in a way that delights but provokes as well - and then maybe the sharp phrasing - the style- kicks in. 

I wish I knew more about these and other dreams to talk about the process of these dreams - but what I really want to ask is - are we in love with the process?

I have seen many many people be incredibly successful - quite a few in that grim, stone-faced, chin up martyr kind of manner - but people I have seen successful and happy - those have been the ones who love the process - loved it and lived it with verve and energy - fought it, engaged with it , maybe even changed it. 

That six pack - probably has a better chance of happening if you love 'being' fit and enjoy testing the limits of your body - that business brainwave - probably will remain that unless you love and enjoy the journey of putting together a team and the processes of delivering that value to your customer. That stand-up comedian in you - to let her out, you have got to be in love with life's eccentricities a little and enjoy framing that , you know? 

And I think that's the real test of your dream - a dream that goes beyond the infatuation of imagery and glitter - and lets you find love in the process. 

And sometimes, just ever so often, a love so true that the dream doesn't even matter.