The Important Part of Fishing

Fly fishing in Montana

For many years I’ve been fascinated by the prospect of fly fishing. Watching a perfect cast—with rod and line all moving in synchronized motion set in the midst of a swiftly moving river nestled among rugged mountains—encapsulates for me beauty, artfulness, peacefulness, and all that’s right with the world.

Trying my hand at fly fishing has long been on my bucket list and last month I finally had the opportunity.  Were my casts perfect?  Far from it.  Did I catch any fish?  Nope, even though I had a bite or two.  Did I get to spend about 3 hours in one of the most beautiful settings I’ve ever seen, experiencing moments of utter wonder and peacefulness?  Absolutely.

Given the importance I place on our work to save Nashville’s Music Row, you won’t be surprised that I know of a country song that has a take on what’s important about fishing.  The first verse goes like this:

“The important part of fishin’ ain’t the fish, but the fishing.

The important part of lovin’ is the love.

The important part of doin’ most anything you’re doin’

Is doin’ it with all of your heart”

DJB Fly Fishing and casting

A fly fishing beginner learns to cast in the Yellowstone River

For some strange reason that song came into my mind when a colleague recently shared a Simon Sinek YouTube video about how great leaders inspire action.  Sinek speaks of how most people and organizations sell “what” they do, but those who truly inspire begin with the “why” that drives their work and passion. As Sinek notes, Martin Luther King, Jr. gave an “I Have a Dream”—not an “I Have a Plan”—speech.  The video has sparked several terrific discussions among colleagues from around the country, shifting our thinking from the what we were building to why anyone should care.  My colleague Tom Mayes’ new book—Why Old Places Matteris right in tune with Sinek’s call.

“Doin’ it with all your heart” is just a country songwriter’s way of saying that we need to begin our work with the passion. The why. The reason that gets us out of bed in the morning. When we tie that passion with perseverance, we can be a true force of nature.

I hope you can come to your work, your play, your life with the why you do what you do at the top of your mind.  It makes the how and the what so much more meaningful.

The important part of fishing ain't the fish

The important part of fishing ain’t the fish

 

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Passions

Passion is one universal key to what moves the world forward, yet our passions are the part of us that doesn’t require approval from others.  In fact, the search for prestige through work often gets in the way of our passion.  As Y-Combinator founder Paul Graham notes, “Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like.”  I think of passion as that which takes you out of your daily life, that lets you feel closest to your truest self.  Graham describes it as “what doesn’t seem like work to you?” even if it is your life’s work.

These insights led me to consider what we could learn about each other if we truly understood the passions that let us feel closest to our truest self. Passions may be simple things. I can wander around the desks in our part of the office and make guesses about the passions of my colleagues.  Sports cut across gender, geography, and type (Kansas Jayhawks, Pittsburgh Penguins, Washington Nationals, the Cornell Big Red).  Some passions I know because of conversations through the years (such as our colleague who collects guitars like most of us would collect baseball caps…and yes, I do have Guitar Acquisition Syndrome envy).  We have one colleague who goes over the top with Christmas decorations, and now has a “~320 days until Christmas” sign hanging by her cubicle. Another colleague paints landscapes in his spare time. We have colleagues who take their vacations to help others in developing nations. From the staff spotlights in our office e-newsletter, I know that I can look around and see colleagues who have passions for choral music, extreme sports, food (cooking and eating), and travel.  Other passions are much more ingrained with our jobs, such as the individual who always liked math, turning that passion into programming and research work “that doesn’t feel like work.”  I have a feeling that one colleague who collects old political buttons does so with the professional eye of a collections manager.

What intrigues me is how passions define us, how we can use those passions to help  inspire our work and what passions teach us about each other. Passions are a way we tell stories about ourselves and to ourselves. We are a country that needs to understand each other in more profound ways.  Telling stories—and listening to stories—of passions is a way to build that understanding.  We can do it as individuals. We can also do that in our jobs.  And we can do that as a nation. A blogger I read on a regular basis has a passion for story-telling, and he makes the point that telling stories of passions, with passion, changed how we understand the history of what might otherwise be considered a “minor” Founding Father in Alexander Hamilton.  That happened even in the face of hundreds of statistics that tell us that we are losing our connection to our past:

Stage of Hamilton

Stage of “Hamilton: An American Musical” which looks like a period-appropriate tavern

“Hamilton has had a particular impact on young people. That’s the staggering part. After 200-plus years, Alexander Hamilton is hip with the kids? How did that happen? How did Lin Manuel-Miranda and the cast of Hamilton spark teenagers’ dormant passion for history?

The answer – and it is a universal answer for anyone trying to inspire passion — is simply this: great storytelling. What Miranda did, through brilliant song-writing talent and classic Broadway theatrics, was make Hamilton’s story relatable and rebellious and fun and tragic, all those things that we so often miss in history….So much of the way history is told makes it feel bland — dates and places and all that — and this a common complaint. But we would argue that what hurts history more is the appearance of inevitability. Nothing hurts a story more than inevitability. You know the colonists won the war. You know that Hamilton helped found our nation. You know that he died in a duel.

So how can you make it feel vibrant? How can you tell these stories so that people can see and feel how unlikely an Alexander Hamilton really was, how close the colonists came to losing the Revolutionary War, how impossibly courageous decisions by deeply flawed men who often hated each other, minute by minute, made the United States of America?

This is the challenge – to help people walk among the weeds at Antietam and feel the desperation of normal people, to see the tombstone in Charles Town of the woman who lost seven sons in the Revolutionary War and carry her pain…These are stories of passion. These are stories that, when told well, can still inspire passion….In many ways, what (Lin-Manuel Miranda) did was not new at all. He pulled Hamilton from the staid pages of elementary school history books and made him flesh and blood, reminding us that the Founding Fathers were not featureless men simply destined to start a new nation. They were reckless, brilliant, flawed, brave, hypocritical, and extraordinary dreamers. History, so often, goes for the head. Lin-Manuel Miranda went for the heart.”

Passions big and small make us who we are. Working with passion and telling our stories with passion can help us bring the past into the present for today’s and future generations.

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB