I almost didn’t attend the presentation yesterday. It was a noontime talk about "Reflective Leadership," the sort of learning opportunity that tends to fall by the wayside when you're busy. Wednesday was looking like a protein-bar-at-my-desk kind of workday as deadlines converged, meetings loomed, and my inbox swelled over capacity.
At the last moment, I decided to make the time.
As often happens, the message I almost didn’t have time for was exactly what I needed to hear.
Joe Cavanaugh, the speaker, leads a local nonprofit called Youth Frontiers. They work with schools to teach children and teenagers about kindness, compassion, character, and values. They hold retreats that fight bullying by helping young people see and connect with one another as human beings. He had a similar message for the grownups in the room today.
As we were waiting for the presentation to begin, the atmosphere was typical of an event where most attendees don’t know each other: a few conversations were sprinkled about, but mostly people sat in their chairs, looked at their smartphones or flipped quietly through the handouts. I checked my iPhone and chimed in on a Facebook discussion with faraway friends. There were people sitting on either side of me in the conference room, but I didn’t notice them. As the presentation began I put away my phone, a little reluctantly, knowing that if I left it out I’d be unable to resist looking at it.
I love technology. My iPad is a constant companion. When something interesting happens to me, I start composing the status update or blog in my head. Many of my closest friends are people I met online. I’m an unapologetic optimist about social media’s ability to connect people, bridge distances, and build communities.
Joe told us to turn to the person next to us and talk for 30 seconds each about our favorite childhood toys. I had never met the gentleman next to me, but after a moment of awkwardness I felt instantly connected with his story of setting up army men in the backyard and staging elaborate scenarios. I recounted my own menagerie of stuffed animals and their fearless leader, the lion.
It’s amazing what happens when people stop, look at one another, and have a simple conversation about something that is personally meaningful. The room sparkled with positive energy. People laughed. My phone suddenly seemed a lot less interesting.
Joe brought us back to attention by saying “We just wasted one minute.” He told us of a few minutes he “wasted” looking at clouds with his daughter, and how those were the most important minutes of his summer.
I won’t attempt to paraphrase his talk, but I can share the message that resonated most with me:
Slow down. Reflect. Notice the people around you. Listen to them. Remember what is most important and remember who is most important.
Technology and social media can help us build communities and connect with people, but they can also isolate us from people in our physical presence.
I’m inspired to do a few things differently:
• I will make more of an effort to smile and greet the people in my presence: store clerks, coworkers in the hallway, the neighbors whose names I don’t know.
• I will think twice before pulling out the phone or iPad in those little moments when conversation is an option: waiting for a meeting to begin, for example.
• I will carve out time in each workday to be human with my coworkers – stepping away from the blinking instant meessages and clusters of email – and dedicating my full attention to a person on the phone or in my presence.
• As a leader, I’ll be extra cognizant of being present and appreciative with my team. No matter how busy I am, they deserve to hear “Good morning” from me and to know that I care about what’s important to them today.
• When I am online, whether at work or at home, I will remember that those friends and coworkers deserve my attention also. I’ll make time to sit down, read their posts, and thoughtfully respond to and acknowledge what they’re communicating. My online friends deserve more than a distracted “like” from me while I’m walking down the street or waiting for takeout, especially if I’m just using the phone as a crutch to avoid eye contact with strangers.
Attention is a precious gift that we can give to one another. It’s worth a lot more when it’s undivided.
I wasted another lunch hour writing this blog… but if someone else needed this message, it was the most productive hour of my day.
