Choosing a Profession and Taking Control of Your Life
James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.
© June 17, 2014
What one does one
becomes.
Anonymous
My son, Alex, is not
sure where he wants to go to college, or what to do when he grows up. I’m still working for an insurance company,
still working on what I want to do when I grow us, too.
Single parent, 46, college graduate
I had dreamed of
becoming a scientist in general, and a paleontologist in particular, even since
Tyrannosaurus skeleton awed and seared me at New York’s Museum of Natural
History when I was five years old. I had
the great good fortune to achieve these goals and to love the work with fully
sustained joy to this day, and without a moment of doubt or any extended
boredom.
Stephen Jay Gould, Rock of Ages: Science and Religion in the
Fullness of Life (1999)
Everyone’s Life Unique
Dutch philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) believes
“the will” exists independently of our perception. In essence, he argues that all human actions
and knowledge are constituted by the human will: It is only in reflection, he writes, that to will and to act are different; in reality they are one.
This all-encompassing human will is characterized by
Schopenhauer as a blind striving power which reveals itself to everyone
directly as the in-itself of his own phenomenal being. He points out that when you reach an advanced
age and look back over your lifetime, it can seem to have had a consistent
order and plan, as though composed by some novelist. Events that when they occurred had seemed
accidental and of little moment have turned out to have been indispensable
factors in the composition of a consistent plot. So who composed the plot? Schopenhauer suggest that just as an aspect
of yourself of which your consciousness is unaware composes your dreams, so,
too, your whole life is composed by the will within you.
Many readers, especially younger readers, might have
difficulty fathoming this philosophy; indeed, they may reject it out of
hand. But I can tell you it rings
totally true in my case. When I was a
small boy, I had a philosophical bent, which was fed by my Irish Roman
Catholicism. As a youngster, I read the
dictionary as if it were a novel in the interest of developing the tools to
express my ideas. As a student, I was
attracted to dead authors that kept reassuring me that I was on the right
track. Even my passion for athletics as
a youth never deterred me from this quest to write, although my da derailed me
temporarily. His dying message to me
was, “Your mother says you want to be a writer.
You don’t even write a good letter.”
Then he added, “If you persist, you’ll starve to death, mark my
words.” His influence was so great that
when a professor in undergraduate school wanted to recommend me for the Honors
Program in the
Humanities, instead of the sciences, which were my major, I
declined. The professor, however,
planted the seed and introduced me to many authors that I perhaps would not
have read.
The life of a chemist, sales engineer, executive, then early
retirement in my 30’s to write, not earning a living, then back to school to
become an industrial psychologist, then an academic (as an adjunct professor),
consultant, then a management psychologist (organizational development) for a
hi-tech corporation, again an executive, and finally retirement to write
full-time in my fifties.
My various professional careers took me to places around the
world in all levels of society, and provided me with the empirical data with
which to write, otherwise I would have had ideas without legs. My da was right, however, in that I have
never made a living as a writer. I write
because Schopenhauer’s words have proven true for me, blind striving power,
which reveals itself to me directly as the in-itself of my being. It is my vocation. [1]
English celebrated dramatist Ben Jonson (1572-1637) once
said: Only an idiot would endure the hardship of writing without concern for
the coin. I am happy to say he is wrong
in my case, and in the case of tens of thousands of writers today who are being
published by electronic presses. The
irony is that his biographies put a lie to his words as he, too, had a
circuitous route to his writing prominence.
It also indicates the danger of taking the words of another to fit one’s
own peculiar sense of things.
Psychologist James Hillman has a theory consistent with
Schopenhauer, which he calls the “acorn
theory.” Hillman proposes that each
life is formed by a particular image, an image that is the essence of that life
and calls it to a destiny, just as the mighty oak’s destiny is written in the
tiny acorn. It is a theory that gets beyond
the missteps of youth and collisions of character with desires, family,
influences and freedom. Most of all,
Hillman insists we all have a “calling,” or vocation that like an invisible
mystery lies at the center of each of our lives. This calling speaks to and answers the
fundamental question: what is it in my heart to do, be and have, and why? [2]
He insists every individual is born with a defining image, and that that
individuality resides in a formal cause: we each embody our own idea.
The Heart has its Reason
One of the first missteps we make in choosing a career is
leading with our head instead of our heart.
Reason looks at what careers pay the most, how long it takes to become
qualified, what degrees are the least intellectually demanding, what
universities have the most successful students, and on and on?
Meanwhile, there is an unconscious with its own intentions
that even protects us from ourselves.
The head is looking for an insurance policy guaranteeing a good income,
rapid promotion, generous disposable income, and a good benefit package. The best-laid plans often go awry, but
something always seems to save us from falling on our own petard, or being
blindsided. Some of us call it “our
guardian angel,” others instinct, self-preservation, or a sixth sense.
At the same time, we all know people that disregard this
guardian spirit and are self-destructive, accident-prone, or hyper as if
perennial children, or use words to rationalize their faux pas in defense of
their misunderstandings or missteps. Still
others blame it on their chromosomes by the failure of their parent’s genetic
code to give them an advantage of being tall and beautiful and bright and
without flaws. Parents are also blamed,
by the same people, for what they did or didn’t do for them in their early
years, now of course long past. The more
we are of this mindset the more our biography is the story of the victim. What such individuals fail to realize is that
the victim is the flipside of the hero.
Regrettably, our culture reinforces this victim complex in
the popular press, cult psychology, and even all these scientific queries that
claim it is a “gene” issue that causes us to be fat, lazy, and antisocial or
mean. We love justifiers who take us off
the hook. We want to believe it is not
our fault that we are unhappy, have failed to grow up, or failed to find our
niche. We are in a cage and chained to
the bars, which is the past with more than enough justification to explain away
ourselves to ourselves without any help from authorities.
There has been a craze over the last several decades,
especially during the last quarter of the previous century on self-fulfillment
and self-development. Over that periods,
authors became household words who subscribed to the idea of finding one’s “inner
child,” never one’s “inner adult.” Even
then, the onus was placed on or a surrogate or personal trainer to
motivate. We did go to college, earned
our degrees, but now it was the company’s job to take care of us in the style
to which we wanted to become accustomed.
Daniel Yankelovich writes a scathing report of this mindset:
The predicaments of
self-fulfillment seekers arise from the defective strategies they deploy to
achieve these ambitious goals. These
strategies are defective, first, in their economic premises. The typical self-fulfillment strategy
presupposes that economic well-being is a virtual citizen’s right,
automatically guaranteed by both government and economy. A strategy built on the presumption of
ever-expanding affluence is bound to run into trouble even in a country as
abundant as our own. The most serious
defect, however, is psychological.
People unwittingly bring a set of flawed psychological premises to their
search for self-fulfillment, in particular the premise that the self is a
hierarchy of inner needs, and self-fulfillment an inner journey to discover
these. This premise is rarely examined,
even though it leads people to defeat their own goals – and to end up isolated
and anxious instead of fulfilled. [3]
Reading life backwards enables us to see how early passions
were, in fact, premature indicators of behavior now. It suggests that growth is less cultural and
more genetic, that development makes sense only when it reveals a facet of the
original impression. Obviously, we
progress and regress from day to day, see some faculties develop and others
wither. Our person, however, is not a
process. As Picasso says, “I don’t
develop. I am.”
The code of the soul, as Hillman points out, is in our
character. We are born with a character
unique, as well as a distinct calling.
We may postpone or miss our calling and deny our character and suffer
for it. But this defining image, call it
a “second self,” saves us constantly from making bad choices or nudges us
gently when we should go for it if we would but listen. The cage becomes our home when we don’t.
John LeCarre’ is a successful novelist of espionage
genre. In reading his life backward, it
is clear that he wants to leave the impression it was all by chance and not design. He writes:
I began writing
because I was going mad with boredom.
Not the pathetic, listless kind of boredom that doesn’t want to get out
of bed in the morning, but the screaming, frenetic sort that races around in
circles looking for real work and finding none.
I had tried teaching “backward” children, and most of them were
suffering from exactly what I was suffering from: boredom. They had sat at the back of their classes,
and been bored stiff. I had tried
teaching at Eton, but at Eton I often felt younger than the boys, and quite as
much in need of a good tutor as they were.
And I certainly wasn’t ready to see straight down the corridor to the
end of my life: housemaster at forty, retirement at sixty, cottage in Devon,
and on God, let me please go gentle into that good night. [4]
While teaching I had dabbled in commercial art during the
school holidays, but not with much success.
To satisfy me, everything I drew or painted should have explained the
meaning of life. But you don’t get many
opportunities to express your soul when you are knocking out children’s book
jackets at eight pounds a crack.
The next chapter of his life was the world of Whitehall and
M15 or as a low-level clerk His Majesty’s government’s spy business. He reflects,
I toiled from morning and often till late into the evening
at the dossiers of people I would never meet: should we trust him? Or her?
Should their employers trust them?
Might he be a traitor, spy, lonely decider, or a suitable case for
blackmail by the unscrupulous opposition?
Thus I, who seemed to have no adult understanding of myself, was being
asked to sit in judgment on the lives and loves of others. I was not versed in the ways of the world,
only my own. The only tools I possessed
were the possibilities of my own nature.
These were of many sorts in those days, and the imaginative bridges that
I built to my paper suspects earned me a reputation for, of all things,
perspicuity. Nothing could be further
from the truth. All I was doing was
inventing people out of the meager clay of telephone taps, purloined mail, and
investigators’ reports. What else I gave
my suspects came from myself. It wasn’t
good intelligence work, but in that mediocre world it could easily pass for
such. And it turned out to be excellent
training for the career I had not yet consciously embarked upon: named that of
the novelist. [5]
The paradox of this author was to escape the falseness of
his life by discovering life’s truth in writing fiction. By the strength of his intellect, he forced
himself to observe humanity with clinical objectivity. Moody and self-estranged, LeCarre’ was a
sentimental man and the long exile strengthened his deep love of his England, a
nation he felt failed to keep pace with a changing world. He fed hungrily on his school days through
the character of George Smiley, its beauty, its rational ease, and the mature
slowness of its judgments. The glory
days of England were gone but he could freeze-frame it in his prose. Unconsciously, his life as a spy was his
laboratory for the profession that chose him, that of the novelist.
Were you to take a moment to read your life backwards, my
guess is that you would see the pattern unfolding, the false steps, the
recovery, the surprised change of direction, a collection of syncopating
detours then arrival precisely where you are now. Where you are is where you were meant to
be.
The picture in the frame shows its face at an early
age. Some fill in the frame with their
passions; others look to what brings attention to them in spite of their
passions. The former are inner-directed;
the latter are outer-directed. Golda
Meir, who led Israel during the 1970s, found her picture in the frame in the
fourth grade in the Milwaukee public school when she organized a protest group
against requiring poor people to purchase schoolbooks they couldn’t
afford. Stephen Jay Gould loved
dinosaurs as a boy of five telling everyone he was going to be a
paleontologist. When he still indicated
such passion when he was ten, other children made fun of him, calling him a
“baby.” It didn’t deter him, going on to
become one of the world’s great scholars in this discipline. Yehudi Menuhin, the renowned violinist and
conductor, asked for a violin at four.
When he was given a toy violin with metal strings, he erupted into a
burst of tears. He wanted a real violin!
Hillman’s theory insists each child is a gifted child; every
child has a calling. So, if we’re not
allowed to organize a protest group, feed our passion for dinosaurs, or acquire
a real violin, and our life spirals into unanswered prayers, whom do we
blame? Our parents? He has something to say about this:
The fantasy of parental influence on childhood follows us
through life long after the parents are faded into photographs, so that much of
their power comes from the idea of their power.
Why do we cling to the parental fallacy?
How does it still parent us, comfort us?
Are we afraid to admit the daimon (angel) into our own lives, afraid
that it might have called us once, might still be calling, so we hid out in the
kitchen? We retreat to parental
explanations rather than face destiny’s claims. [6]
Compensatory Adjustment
Just as the blame game doesn’t work to our advantage when it
comes to choosing a profession, compensating for real or imagined shortcomings
is not the way to emotional satisfaction in a career.
Sometimes there is more than a grain of truth to
clichés. For example, an excruciatingly
shy person of fragile physique and diminutive size may assert himself to
compensate for a sense of inferiority by a menacing superiority. That was the picture in the frame of
Generalissimo Francisco Franco, who ruled Spain with an iron fist for more than
thirty years. At fifteen, tiny and
baby-faced, he entered the Infantry Academy at Toledo and was handed a light
weapon instead of a heavy rifle. He
boldly announced, “Whatever the strongest
man is my section can do, so can I.” [7]
Adolph Hitler had a similar history. He wanted to be an architectural designer and
painter but couldn’t pass the entrance exam at the Academy of Art in
Vienna. One of his pretentious schemes
was to design Berlin as the premier city of the world in grandiloquent
architecture. He spent as much time with
this obsession as with the war. Incidentally,
for his failure to win entrance into this school, he blamed his Jewish
examiners. His revenge materialized into
the “Final Solution,” or the
Holocaust.
Psychologist Alfred Adler, the founder of individualistic
psychology, claims 70 percent of art students have optical anomalies, and that
many great composers such as Mozart, Beethoven and Bruckner had degenerative
hearing. Adler further claims that
challenges of illness, birth defects, poverty, or other unfavorable
circumstances contribute to high achievers.
Noble Laureate James Watson, co-discoverer of the double helix
of DNA, admits to an IQ of 105, which is average, but far from that of a
genius. On the other hand, his
colleague, Francis Crick, was very much the genius. Watson’s ingratiating and intrusive
personality, along with his natural curiosity, served him well. Author Brenda Maddox goes so far as to claim
he stole the idea from Rosalind Franklin’s “photograph 51,” which was an x-ray
of coal, and clearly showed the double helix.
To add insult to injury, Watson disparagingly called Franklin the “dark
lady” in his book The Double Helix (1968). [8]
Compensating adjustment is the stimulus for higher
achievement, but not necessarily inner-directedness. Professor Billy G. Gunter, emeritus, of the
University of South Florida, calls this “ambient deficiency motivation,” or we
are inclined to be attracted to what we lack: for example, a criminal to be a
police officer, a sinner a priest, and so on.
Chances are it is a drive to amount to something, to
exercise power and influence, all characteristics of outer-directedness. By compensating for real or imagined
weaknesses with strengths, such people transform inabilities into empowerment
and control. We see this displayed in
some chief executive officers of corporations.
They exhibit a single mindedness to reach their Mount Olympus thinking
in terms of strengths, and ignoring their weaknesses, then compounding the
problem by surrounding themselves with likeminded support people. The dregs of early childhood embarrassments
or wrongs can be detected in the product of their leadership.
Compensatory adjustment has little to do with passion,
inspiration, or the élan of self-forgetfulness.
It amounts to putting a person in somebody else’s frame robbing the
individual of an authentic identity and unique life. Superiority emerges from our lower rather
than our higher centers.
George Washington became America’s first president, not
because he was as brilliant as Thomas Jefferson, John Jay, Alexander Hamilton
or James Madison, but because he understood the heart and mind of ordinary
citizens of the new republic. Many
wanted to make him a monarch, or president for life, but he would have none of
that. He had a vision and a mission,
which had no room for self-aggrandizement.
He was the perfect leader because he was the complete follower.
Abraham Lincoln, unlike Washington, elicited neither the
respect nor admiration of those around him, yet they were both
inner-directed. Every member of
Lincoln’s presidential cabinet felt superior to him culturally, intellectually
and politically. They saw him as a
country bumpkin, unsophisticated and unfinished. True, he rose out of the soil of mid-country
where conflicting values and beliefs were painfully in evidence. His own wife was a southerner with biases
similar to her people with a sense that she married below her station. What Lincoln showed, as did Washington before
him, is that almost every extraordinary life encompasses a vision, an ideal
that calls them to the fore. It is often
a vision that eludes them like a ghost in the night, or an unknown sense that
this is why they were born. Adversity,
criticism, fraudulent claims against them, and even embarrassing defeats, fail
to deter them from their course. It is
bigger than they are, a vague presence that walks with them all their days.
They persist simply because the calling is not an echo chamber from the
disenchanted, but a drum roll from within. Extraordinary people are not
different people. That is a myth. Where they differ is that they are driven by
motivation whereas others are driven by distraction.
Imagine, if you will, a world in which a profession is
chosen only on the basis of the greatest earning power, the most prestige,
greatest distance from the hoi polloi, or the best opportunity to power and
influence. Then imagine further if these
professionals determine their decisions only on the basis of polls, employee
surveys, profitability, and customer preferences irrespective of ethics,
morality, or long-term consequences.
Such professionals, should that be the case, would epitomize
outer-directedness. For these
compensatory adjustments, the attention is likely to kill the spirit, as there
is no apparent authentic inner life, while feigning glory in the cage of
mediocrity.
We live in a time when we allow pundits, soothsayers, gurus,
experts, statisticians, scientists, celebrities, mass communicators, educators,
and the religious to simplify the extraordinary complexities of modern life,
and prescribe piecemeal what we should think, feel, believe, eat, drink and how
we should behave without so much as a fairly well protest.
How many reading this believe a cell phone is an absolute
necessity, a new automobile every three years in a prudent move, who are down
on their favorite team if it has a losing season, who only read books on the
bestseller list, and watch television currently in the top ten, who escape
their own lives through soap operas, celebrity games, people magazines and
films of the rich and famous, and who think Bill Gates is a genius?
People say television is garbage, but any television program
needs a 37 percent share of the television audience to stay on the tube, and
some programs display some pretty horrific stuff, so somebody must be
watching.
If someone asks you, what you think about rap music, hard rock,
reality television, funky clothes, and you are not into that culture, chances
are you will pause, not only not to offend but to give the impression you are
“with it.” The same goes for tattoos. And so we say nothing or lie.
Everybody is in a hurry.
Time is money! So, we hurry. We can’t stand to be alone; can’t stand a
noise free environment where there is no radio, no television, no talking, just
silence. Silence is imposing,
threatening, boring. This suggest we
are unable to stand our own company.
We want to fit. Want
to belong. Want to choose a profession
where we will be accepted, admired, even envied, and then others will want our
company. Then we will be somebody. This implies the somebody we will be has no
room for the somebody we already are.
We have no room for ourselves. We want to belong to everyone else without
belonging to ourselves. We have turned
off the light of inner-directness and are bouncing off the walls
psychologically blindfolded in outer-directedness. We need a fresh start of looking at the
importance of our own lives before we can choose a profession that will fit us,
bring us satisfaction and peace, and most of all, fulfillment.
We don’t seek self-fulfillment by going after it, as the
gurus would suggest. We find it by
staying home and getting acquainted with ourselves as ourselves. We discover the poetry of our soul, not in a
scientific report, but liking, and yes loving who we are, not who we are going
to be, but who and what we are right now.
Our Western mind is programmed to time. We have trouble stopping the clock. It is inconceivable to us to think in terms
of psychological time when the only time we understand is chronological
time. Consequently, our minds geared to
psychological time, convince us that we are too young to have a career, say at
seventeen, and too old to change careers, say at seventy, when neither is the
case.
At seventeen, we’re not supposed to know our own mind when
we might perfectly well know it, but are afraid to assert it. I know a lad who was forced by his farmer
parents to be a dentist, when he wanted to be a farmer. He became a dentist, and most unhappily so,
and dreamed all the way to retirement to be a farmer, which he now is at age
seventy.
There is an artist who three years ago preferred painting to
schoolwork at age 16, and now at age 19 she is selling her paintings for
upwards of $100,000. She scoffs at the
idea she is a genius. She sees her Maker
working through her, and gives Him all the credit. At this moment, her inner-directedness is
healthy and in charge.
Restructuring of Perceptions
The first order of business, it would seem, in this business
of choosing a profession consistent with one’s calling is to be introduced to
oneself as a unique human being. This
amounts to restructuring perceptions relative to two primary sources: our
desires and our interests.
From an early age, each of us are “turned on” by certain
things and “turned off” by others. Not
infrequently, what is a "turn off" is equally a turn off to our
peers, and perhaps our parents as well.
The tendency is to find a way of deadening our desires to be consistent
with those important to us, failing to realize these maybe inconsistent with
what is importance to ourselves. We’re
back to the “fitting in” business again.
Neglect of what really moves us can lead to all passions spent. Then there is little fun and even less humor
to existence. We are leading secondhand
lives. Mythologist Joseph Campbell,
echoing the Buddha tradition, puts it simply, follow your bliss.
The irony is such a state of rejection of our normal desires
leads to an obsession with “finding ourselves.”
We become self-help junkies with a tranquilizing addiction for soothing
anodynes for our troubled souls, which go into cold storage. Our heads become filled with quotation marks
around such words as performance, growth, creativity, thresholds, continuum,
response levels, integration, synergy, identity, development, synchronicity,
validation, boundaries, coping mechanisms, programming, operant conditioning,
variance, subjectivity, adjustment therapy, verifiable results, value-free
analysis, test results, emergence, hope, biofeedback and limits.
Closely tied to interests are our values. The source of our values are perceptions
including spiritual, or our relationship to a higher power or creator, social
or our relationship to others, and personal or our relationship to
ourselves. These form our character and
personify, and reveal our motives, which, in turn, express our interests. Just as desires can be deadened by attack, so
also is the case with interests.
The well-motivated person is interested, meaning passionate
about something, about life, work, study, nature, people, science, sports,
literature, religion, philosophy, something.
The more intense the interests the more purposeful the behavior. Should a person’s interests be constantly
rained on, the spark is lost, and apathy replaces interests, and with it
purposefulness. Whatever interests are
displayed, they are confined to extrinsic interests, which often become
translated into “what is in it for me!”
Such a person draws a line between the head and the heart, between work
and play, between things he has to do and things he wants to do. In a most compelling way, the person becomes
outer-directed rather than inner or self-directed.
Conversely, intrinsic interests dominate the inner-directed
person. These refer to interests in in
and of themselves. Play and work are
transparent. Play encompasses all of
those things the person does, on or off the job that he finds intrinsically
interesting, and renewing, while work includes all of those things the person
does on or off the job that he has only extrinsic interest in doing, or that
deplete him. He does them only because
they must be done or because of what they may lead to. Obviously, neither intrinsic nor extrinsic
interests, but a combination of the two drive a person. That said there is a relationship between
what is expected and what is being accomplished, and what holds the interests
of the individual who is constantly growing.
Growing Down while Growing Up!
Using Hillman’s metaphor, like the acorn, we grow down
establishing solid roots in our core personality, and out of that core
personality inner-directedness. Then, we
are ready to grow up to embrace our opportunities. What seems fundamental to career selection
and success is recognition of who is in charge and why. This is the difference between being in a
reactive mode, and having others or circumstances dictate the choices we make
in life, and being in charge.
When we avoid the burden of choosing a career, we are like a
willing passenger in somebody else’s vehicle.
We have no idea where we are and no control over where we are
going. Given this situation, it is
easier to plead the victim than the victor, play the blame game than launch
ourselves into another direction, more convenient to say we are too old, can’t
afford the risks, or are saddled with responsibilities than admit we lack the
courage to take charge.
It is admittedly difficult to develop a solid core
personality with conviction when we grow from the outside in rather than the
inside out. Parents, peers, priests and
professors are bombarding our psyches with what is right and proper for us to
do, and we often are listening with rap attention, while disregarding that
little drummer inside suggesting a different cadence. Not only can we lose our momentum we can
become absolutely stuck. Our anxiety
level increases as we fight a war between pleasing others and pleasing
ourselves. This is a conflict that can
never be won. It is a stalemate not
unlike the recent wars we have had in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan as a
nation. What am I suggestion? Am I suggesting it is a national problem? Indeed, I am.
We have become a leaderless society with no one in charge, staying the
same, missing the changes, burning up energy in relentless polarity, leaving
the future up for grabs. We cannot solve
a national malaise, but we can resolve it at the personal level by establishing
that we will be engaged; we will listen to our heart and what it tells us, and
politely disregard the voices of distraction.
It is so easy to drift unconsciously into a job and make it
a career as if we were sleep walking through life. Wishes are the dreams we dream when we are
awake. Never be afraid to dream. If you can visualize a career, you are
already in the frame but don’t know it.
Relax and let it happen, and it will.
If you look at friends and colleagues happy in work, chances
are you will find they are self-pleasers without making a case for it, creatively
involved in work without worrying about conforming to a standard, performers
rather than concerned about making an impression. You sense they have a moral center guided by
a moral compass. Morality for them is
not a matter of being goody good two shoes, but a balance between what serves
others serves them as well. Such people
have discovered that what serves others serves them as well. Moreover, they have no reluctance to say “no”
when it is prudent to do so, and to say “yes” when it serves the situation. Nor do they have any trouble abandoning ship
when the culture is not conducive to their purpose. They don’t make waves but quietly move on to
a more appropriate climate.
They behave in this way because they don’t confuse
motivation with money, or mindset with mentality:
Motivation is a drive
within. It is concerned with the
“why of behavior,” and consists of two facets, motives and incentives. Motives are found in the person’s character
or value system, while incentives relate to the work environment including pay,
fairness issues, and so on. Motives and
incentives are the two sides of the same coin, which are fueled by our desires
and lubricated by our interests. What
motivates us may not be what others desire for us.
Money is a common justification
for doing and being whatever. Money
is a poor motivator. It can demotivate
if we are paid too much or too little for what we are doing. A justifiable raise has a short-duration as
an incentive. When money is the only
arbiter to performance, it can derail desire and diminish interests.
Mindset is the way a
person thinks things seem to appear, not how they actually are. Perceptions can be flawed. Since the workplace culture represents an
attitude, if your mindset is not in sync with the culture either it is wrong
for you or you are wrong for it.
Mentality is not an
intelligence quotient but an index of the prevailing norm. Is the workplace supportive of learners or
knowers, listeners or tellers? Are doers
consulted for the answers because they are thinkers as well? If so, it is a place where problems will be
confronted and solved, not avoided and denied.
It is a place for learners to grow.
The seed you plant is pride in what you do, passion in the
doing, patience when growth and development are slow, persistence in staying
focused on plan, recognizing you are the fertile soil that must grow down to
grow up, not unlike the acorn that must let go its code to become the giant
oak.
*
* *
Notes
[1] Dr. James R. Fisher, Jr., In the Shadow of the
Courthouse: Memoir of the 1940s Written as a Novel, TATE Publishing (2nd
Edition), 2014. It is the portrait of a
young man as he struggles to grasp his place in space.
[2] James Hillman, The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character
and Calling, 1996.
[3] Daniel Yankelovich, New Rules: Search for Self-Fulfillment
in a World Turned Upside Down, 1981, p. 10.
[4] John Le Clarre, Call for the Dead: The First George
Smiley Novel (reissue of 1961 novel, 2004), p. xii.
[5] Ibid, p. xiii.
[6] Op. Cit., Hillman, p. 20.
[7] Ibid, p. 23.
[8] Brenda Maddox, Rosalind Franklin: The Dark Lady of DNA,
HarperCollins Publishers, 2002.