A Leader Always Fails Upwards!
Tony Alessandra
Abraham Lincoln really was born in a log cabin. The fact that he went on to become President—and to lead the country through the most difficult period of its history—is truly remarkable. It is even more amazing when you consider what it took to be an important leader in the middle of the nineteenth century. Although we hear a lot about people like Lincoln or Andrew Jackson or Ulysses S. Grant—people who came from nothing to wield great power—these were most definitely the exceptions that proved the rule. Moreover, the rule was, most successful people started out with all the advantages. Financially, it was much harder to get rich a hundred and fifty years ago than it is today—and if you failed, it was much harder to get back on your feet. There was no safety net from the government or from anywhere else to make sure that you did not go hungry. In those days, it was every man for himself.
With that in mind, let's look for a minute at some of the things that Lincoln faced and overcame. You have probably seen lists similar to this, describing Lincoln's failures, but I'd like to go through it again in order to make some important points, which we will take up immediately after the list. As you are reading this list, I'd like you also to think of setbacks you have faced in your own life, and how you responded to them.
In 1832, Lincoln was working in a general store in Illinois when he decided to run for the state legislature. However, the election was some months away, and before it took place, the general store went bankrupt and Lincoln was out of a job. So, he joined the army and served three months. When he got out, it was time for the election—which he lost.
Then, with a partner, Lincoln opened a new general store. His partner embezzled from the business, and the store went broke. In addition, shortly thereafter, the partner died, leaving Lincoln with debts that took several years to pay off.
In 1834, Lincoln ran again for the state legislature, and this time he won. He was even elected to three more terms of two years each. During this period, however, Lincoln also suffered some severe emotional problems. Today he would have been categorized as clinically depressed.
By 1836, Lincoln had become a licensed attorney. At that time, a law degree was not required to pass the bar exam, and Lincoln had been studying on his own for years. He later became a circuit-riding lawyer, traveling from county to county in Illinois to plead cases in different jurisdictions. He was one of the most diligent of all the lawyers doing this kind of work, and between 1849 and 1860 he missed only two court sessions on the circuit.
In 1838, he was defeated in an attempt to become Speaker of the Illinois legislature, and in 1843, he was defeated in an attempt to win nomination for Congress. In 1846, he was elected to Congress, but in 1848, he had to leave because his party had a policy of limiting terms. In 1854, he was defeated in a run for the U.S. Senate. In 1856, he lost the nomination for Vice President, and in 1858, he was again defeated in a race for the Senate. Yet in spite of all these setbacks, in 1860 he was elected President of the United States.
What can we learn about leadership from looking at this chronology? To me, the most remarkable thing is how every time Lincoln failed at something, he was soon trying for something even bigger. After he lost his seat in the state legislature, he ran for the national congress. After he lost a bid for the Senate, he tried to become vice president—and after he lost the Senate race again, he ended up President of the whole country.
Lincoln saw himself as a leader long before anyone else did—and this is the first key to his leadership genius. He may have failed many times, but somehow he always failed upward. He was propelled by a sense of mission, and he was willing and able to do whatever it took to get that great mission accomplished.
Hoo Hoo Fraks
Michael T. Smith
My grandson Josh is a train freak. Thomas the Train is his favorite toy. He has several of the other toy engines featured on the show as well. In the weeks leading up to his fourth birthday, when I came home from work, he would meet me at the door and say, "Paw Paw Mike? Thomas birthday." He was so excited, his speech impediment would become worse, and I would have trouble understanding him.
For his birthday, I decided to take him on a train ride. The train I picked runs from Jersey City to Newark. It takes about forty minutes to make the trip in one direction. I chose this train, because, for the first part of the trip, you are underground, then the remainder of the trip is spent above ground. Even better, you can get in the front car and look out the window at the tracks, as you roll over them.
Down in the subway, Josh saw the tracks. "Fraks! PawPaw Mike!"
"Fraks!" He would only take his eyes off the tracks when a train passed. We got on the front car of our train and walked to the front to stare out the window. I explained to the gentleman sitting there, "This is my grandson Josh's birthday. He loves trains, and this ride is my birthday gift to him."
The gentleman got up and let us have his seat by the front window. He could tell by the look on Josh's face that he was excited and decided to give him the seat as a present.
The train began to roll along. It made several stops underground, and then the part I was waiting for came. We blasted up out of the tunnel, and there in front of us were rows and rows of tracks and even a few trains parked on sidings.
Josh began to screech with delight. "PawPaw Mike—Fraks! Look at the fraks! PawPaw! Look at the fraks!"
Then he saw the parked trains, "PawPaw Mike! Hoohoo's! Look! Hoohoo's," he squealed.
My little grandson stood in that window and would not take his eyes off all the tracks and trains. It was one of those moments when you cannot stop smiling.
At Newark, we transferred to the returning train. Halfway home, the train had to stop for a few minutes until a train ahead had been switched to another rail. As we waited, the conductor of the train opened his door and saw Josh staring out the window.
"Hey, little man! How are you?" he asked.
I explained it was his birthday, his first time on a train, and that he was a big fan of trains. "Come here then, Josh! I'll show you something." He sat Josh in the conductor's seat and let him blow the horn.
Josh got back in my lap, a grin splitting his face, as the train continued its journey. At that moment I looked to the back of the car and saw a sea of smiling faces. Everyone was watching Josh and grinning.
Children give such a beautiful gift—innocence. Josh was yelling and squealing about the hoohoo's and fraks, without a clue as to how he was affecting the other passengers. It was impossible not to smile. They all watched this little train fanatic, enjoying his first ride on a train. His pure innocent love for this ride was a beautiful thing to witness.
I have ridden that train many times and hardly ever saw a smiling face. People usually sit quietly, waiting to get to their destination. They read or stare straight ahead, ignoring their fellow travellers. Josh's unbridled joy made their trip special.
Josh is only four, but I doubt he will ever forget his first train ride with his PawPaw, and I doubt many of our companions that day will forget it either. Josh taught us all a lesson. If we could only see things through the eyes of a child, see them new and fresh every time, life would be more interesting. If I ever feel bored over the things I see everyday, I am going to think of hoohoo's and fraks, and remember to see it through the eyes of a child.
Keep on waving!
Potential
Excerpted from Ron White's Ezine
"Continuous effort—not strength or intelligence—is the key to unlocking our potential." –Sir Winston Churchill
"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become." –Charles du Bois
"No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see the possibilities—always see them, for theyīre always there." –Norman Vincent Peale
"Poverty is untested potential." –Denis Waitley
"The potential of the average person is like a huge ocean unsailed, a new continent unexplored, a world of possibilities waiting to be released and channeled toward some great good." –Brian Tracy
"A ship in harbour is safe, but that is not what ships are built for." –William Shedd
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar." –Helen Keller
"Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions." –Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
"Human beings have the remarkable ability to turn nothing into something. They can turn weeds into gardens and pennies into fortunes." –Jim Rohn
"Every man dies. Not every man truly lives." –Braveheart
"Everybody can be great...because anybody can serve. You donīt have to have a college degree to serve. You donīt have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love." –Martin Luther King, Jr.
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be." –William Shakespeare
"Dwell in possibility." –Emily Dickinson
"The only way to discover the limits of the possible is to go beyond them into the impossible." –Arthur Clarke
"If we did all the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astonish ourselves." –Thomas A. Edison
Sitting...still
I didn't think I could do it. I am always on the move. When my body is not, my brain runs away some where and I need to go find it.
I was like a caged animal tonight. My day was turned around and mixed up with an early rise and midday nap. I hustled off for a doctor's appointment and then ate lunch at 3:00pm.
So by the time we finished food shopping I wanted to do something, keep going, or simply just walk some place.
But we returned home and I paced inside and out. There was a fresh scent of rain mixed with cool breezes bathing my body and soul. I walked in one door and out the other, pausing long enough inside to know it wasn't where I belonged.
My sneakers soaked up the wet grass and I desperately wanted to go bare foot. Thoughts of sitting in the rain, permitting myself to be soaked straight to the bone danced through my mind. Faintly in the distance I could hear my Mother yelling, "Bobbie, get out of the rain! You'll catch a cold." But being the boy I was and remain still today, I kept on splashing, spinning, dancing like a fool, knowing fully that I would get in trouble. But I had been there before. I knew trouble well. This moment was much more important.
But today the rain had stopped and only memories of it remained.
So I grabbed a chair and sat on the front porch. I challenged myself to sit still.
I rocked and wiggled at first, nervously changing my position to find a comfortable spot. Then suddenly it happened. It wasn't the first time and I pray it won't be the last.
I felt a part of everything around me. I immediately connected with the world. I felt at peace, rested and a part of something bigger. I tuned in to the sounds of the birds sharing their early evening chatter. I watched each car pass and, seeing the driver, wondered who they were and how their life was going. Was that red car a reflection of their personality? Did that expensive convertible shout "look at me, I have money?" Or was I reading into things that didn't necessarily mean a thing?
I hardly moved at all. Yet, the world came to me. Except when I lowered my head for a moment and, rubbing my eyes, I happened to catch the sight of a tiny red spider. Within the fifteen minutes or so that I watched it, it never went anywhere. It moved constantly within about a one-square-foot spot on my floor.
What was it looking for? Where did it want to go? Why didn't it walk in a straight line to get there?
That's when it hit me.
There have been times in my life where I ran around in circles thinking that activity meant progress. When, in fact, I never got any where.
Then there where times when I felt like I was standing still, going no where, and yet I learned more about who I was.
You see, sitting still on the front porch proved to me that the world will come to me when I need it to. Or at least I learn to appreciate more the immediate world in which I live. Earlier that evening, when I was darting in and out of the house, I was like the tiny spider...in motion but getting nowhere.
The key to this, I learned a long time ago from Dr. Wayne Dyer, is "nowhere."
Learning to sit still converts nowhere into "now here." What you see in this word....nowhere....is a reflection of how you perceive your life.
Once I accept where I am and discover it totally by connecting to every rock, tree, insect, sound, and human, I grow into the world and it accepts me. Now traveling anywhere I can learn to be a part of it just by sitting still long enough to welcome it into my life and it in turn accepts me as a part of the whole.
No longer can I say I am getting nowhere, simply because it doesn't exist. How can nowhere be a place?
Believe me, if it weren't for nightfall and mosquitoes, I'd be "sitting...still."
Try it!
The Healing Tree
Robin Rice
"Healing" may well be the biggest buzzword of the spiritual growth movement. But what does a healed life really look like? Are we setting out to heal, then heal more, all the way to perfection? No. There comes a time when, as I have often said, you no longer need healing because you realize you were fine all along. It may take quite a while to get to that point, and you may need to revisit areas in times of crisis or loss, but overall, there is an end to the healing phase of life.
I compare it to my favorite tree, a huge oak that lives in the woods behind the fields I walk. From a distance, it looks like any other tree. It's probably thirty-five feet tall, with beautiful foliage at the top. Just like all the other trees near it. Yet at a closer look, it is unlike any tree I've ever seen.
I was astonished the first time I stumbled upon it. Where it should have taken root in the ground, it instead twisted and curved into an "L" shape. There was at least another ten feet of living tree growing along the ground, with its roots awkwardly planted into a small hill. I can only guess that in its younger years, it somehow took a fall. Yet with enough sunlight and rain, it started growing upwards again. Years later, it was as tall as all the other trees, so it must have also done some catch-up growing.
I remember being dumbstruck by how this tree had come to fit in and yet still be quite different from the other trees. It had a character all its own. Not only that, it had used its early fall to anchor itself; this survivor would never be more than swayed by a storm. Best of all, it had a really neat place for someone like me to curl up and read a book in. That was something none of the other trees could offer.
This is me. Yes, I took a fall. Yes, I probably look a little funny in my struggle to twist my life around and grow strong. But now I am strong, and like the crook of that oak's "L," I have comfort to offer those who would curl up and rest against me. Yes, I blend into the crowd, but up close you see I'm not only a survivor, I'm a thriver.
Healing, then, is not starting over with everything as good as new. It's using what was given to make me strong, then turning myself upward so I can grow as I was meant to grow. And that growing will continue on its upward course so long as sunlight, rain, and a good solid earth are my companions.
Home • Table of Contents