Competition as Learning Opportunity: A Frame of Mind

You know the feeling: Someone got a nod from the executive director for a good idea at a meeting and you think, "That could've been me!" Or, there's a dancer in your class or company who can seem to do no wrong *and* nail every triple pirouette.  These situations bring out your competitive spirit, which can grow from admiration to jealousy. You can let it eat you alive, or you can use it to help you be the best you can be so you can identify strengths, areas of improvement, and fire you up to form a game plan for continuous learning.  

In other words, what mindset you have can make a dramatic difference in your own personal outcome.  There's competition for the pure sake of it, and there's competition and progress.  To illustrate, the brilliant pianist Lang Lang's early childhood was dominated by the singular desire to be No. 1, whether it was to place first in every competition he entered, or to rank first at the conservatory.  When he didn't place in his second competition, the young Lang Lang beat up his consolation prize (a stuffed dog) in fury.  It wasn't until his mid-teens that his teacher, Gary Graffman, asked him to give up competitions and encouraged him to look inside himself and the music he played.  Until he could do this, the young pianist would not be able to learn the artistic depth required of a consummate musician.  Lang Lang is now considered one of the most exciting and engaging classical pianists in the world today. 

Whenever I feel that sense of urgency upon seeing excellence exhibited by another and that secret, terrible thought voices itself: "That could be me! ... Right?", I remember the below.  Give these a try when you're bitten by the competitive bug and see how you can grow!

Acknowledge the desire to be the best you can be.

It's natural to want to do well and to gain recognition for your talents and skills.  Understanding this and being okay with it is the first step on the path to learning!

Allow the performance, knowledge, and skills demonstrated by others light a fire under you.

Think about what you can work on - where does that other person shine?  What could you do to gain skill and/or expertise in that area?

Remember what you’re good at, and work on making these assets even stronger.

In doing so, people will see clearly where you shine!

For example, I have some significant shortcomings as a Chinese dancer in terms of technique and flexibility. When I'm in class, I always work on every aspect to try and improve where I am weaker to gain overall prowess as a dancer.  When I perform, however, I learn choreography that challenges me and yet allows me to show my greatest strengths - high energy, knee turns, and acting.  Similarly, in high school tennis matches I would try to set up plays so that I could be close to the net for low, fast hits since I regularly found myself noticeably shorter than my opponents. 

Use others’ competitiveness to your advantage. 

I don’t mean to go out of your way to hurt others; I mean to let the most negative parts bounce off you and to absorb the rest and convert it into positive energy for you.  That sounds remarkably new agey, so let me illustrate with an example.  

I was an underdog when I played competitive tennis in high school.  My opponents, usually tall, leggy girls, would see a short kid with socks pulled all the way up and a big hat my mother would make me wear so I wouldn’t get sunburnt.  In other words, I didn’t look like a tennis player; I looked awkward.  But the match would start and there would be surprise; I wasn’t a bad player, after all.  I would often face opponents who would grow frustrated as I gained points and won games in a set; I could feel anger searing me from across the court.  But, the more hostile an opponent got, the calmer and more focused I became.  I simply channeled her anger into quiet control on my part, and I would usually win these games.  I’d developed a way to take someone else’s negative energy and use it to help me focus.  

If you really have to compete with someone or something, compete with yourself.  

Accomplished something?  Set a new goal!  That way, you’ll drive yourself to achieve on ever higher levels, rather than allow admiration of another turn into envy or jealousy on dangerous levels (a little bit can be helpful to push you, though).  

Celebrate your successes.

Compete with yourself, yes, but remember to celebrate your successes when you reach a milestone; take a moment to stop and acknowledge what you’ve accomplished.  Otherwise, if you’re like me, you’ll just look to the next goal and risk driving yourself to exhaustion because you can ultimately never become a master of anything!  

For example, the last time I was promoted, I thought, "yes!" and then the next day it was, "what’s it going to take to prove myself, and what do I need to do to make it to the next level?"  In the dance studio, I hadn’t realized the extent of the progress I’d made towards executing a series of difficult "propeller" turns until my coach mentioned at the end of my rehearsal that even though I was far from perfect, I’d come a long way already.  I realized I could only see what still wasn’t working and had focused only on what lay ahead.  It was a lovely moment, to stop and realize that yes, I was no longer falling all over the place and feeling nauseous!  

Be aware that there will always be someone who can do something better than you, in some way. (And that's okay!)

We can’t be super or even proficient at everything, and that’s an incredible blessing.  When you feel that pang in your chest that someone is better than you, remind yourself that this person may be better than you at something - not that he or she is intrinsically better than you.  Therein lies the difference, and only when you believe this will you have the power to take a step back and assess what it is that person does well, and how you can learn from them.  That way, every situation is an opportunity to grow.  

That’s the beauty and mystery of life; if we could become absolute masters, we’d have to move onto something new lest we stagnate and lose that sense of possibility and learning.  Although I must admit that in my most down-trodden moments I wonder if I tell myself this only to assuage my bruised sense of self-worth, the tactic works.  Separate the self from the situation, as painful and difficult as it is, and seek to understand what you can gain.  In the end, I hope you’ll find, as I have, that a competitive spirit can be a surprisingly collaborative one at its heart. 

Daily Rituals

Chances are, there are certain things you do every morning when you get up.  Whether it’s drinking a cup of coffee, feeding the cat, or hitting the gym, these little rituals are what jumpstart you.  To get your creative juices flowing and ready for the workday whether you’re looking for a new way to spice up the steps in the piece you’re rehearsing or a new way to approach a solution with a client, it can be wonderfully grounding to apply some structure in your life.  

This structure can take many forms, and one of them is that of the daily routine, or daily ritual (the credit for this inspiration goes to Twyla Tharp, again!).  For example, a colleague of mine gets up at 5:30 every morning and swims for 45 minutes, after which he sits down and writes in his online journal.  It’s his way of getting in his exercise and clearing his mind, all before he gets to the office.  

Establishing a daily ritual can be especially important when traveling.  We work in increasingly global organizations, and sometimes we’re asked to travel to collaborate directly with our colleagues and partners in other parts of the world.  Perhaps you’re lucky enough to be touring with your performing arts organization or as a solo artist.  Being away from home can be stressful enough as it is, much less having to shoulder the responsibilities of preparing presentations for a meeting, getting bloated limbs to cooperate in rehearsal, and being your most productive when you’re fatigued and jet-lagged.

Figuring out your daily routine and sticking to it can give you the right rhythm to your days on the road.  When the environment is different and life presents greater uncertainties, your daily routine, if adhered to, can give you the psychological comfort of having at least one thing you have control over.  

During the past year I traveled to Beijing very frequently for my office job and spent several weeks at a time there.  Even though I became familiar with the area, being away from family and the familiar comforts of home (read: dance class, my piano) inevitably took a toll.  After a bit of experimentation, I figured out what I needed to do.  I got up every morning at 6:00 to do a full ballet barre and some center work, then headed to the office.  After work, no matter how tired I was, I exercised for at least another 30 minutes to sweat and engage my body after mostly sitting all day.  Then came my favorite part: the hot shower, then sitting in bed with my journal listening to music.  Sleep.

After I established this daily ritual, my energy levels improved and I felt that I’d finally added my own personal stamp to my life abroad.  

Of course, this can apply equally well to life without travel.  Life throws us surprises of all kinds, and it can be overwhelming to deal with them - work, family, friends, health.  But, if you have your tried and true daily ritual to return to, it can help remind you that you do have control over your life.  

Even if you wake up and wonder how you’re going to drag yourself out of bed and face your inbox at the office or engage your aching muscles at the dance studio, you know you’ll feel better after you’ve gone through your daily ritual.  You’ll be that much more ready to face your day and do what you need to do.  Who knows, maybe you’ll even exceed your own expectations!

Do you have a daily ritual that works for you?  Share a Comment; I’d love to hear from you!  

The Courage to Be Creative - Your Way

It may not be the fate - or even the desire - of each of us to change the world, to be the next Steve Jobs or Pablo Picasso.  That said, this shouldn’t stop us from doing what we believe in.  Unfortunately, the messages we receive are often conflicting, and creativity is not always encouraged.  In some cases there may be consequences for doing something in a different way, or to finding another way to go about it entirely.  This isn’t always the case, but if the end result doesn’t meet expectations, it can be like a door has been slammed on your creative idea.  You wanted to be creative, but it failed.  You’d better stick to the basics, buddy.  

The pressure to stifle creativity can begin in school.  As Sir Ken Robinson states in his TED talk, “Intelligence is diverse. Intelligence is dynamic. Intelligence is distinct.”  The irony is, many schools emphasize math and science and those areas that will ostensibly help us become employed when we become adults.  There may be those with a gift in a certain area, but for the rest of us average children, we’d better stick to the grain or risk mediocrity - or worse, poverty - for the remainder of our lives.  


But what about those people who are brilliant in their own ways, but who don’t believe their talents have merit because they receive constant reinforcement that they are not?  Their gifts may diverge from math and science and other conventionally “applicable” disciplines.  These students only know that they are average, or less than average, in those courses that promising students are supposed to do well in.  


Take the example of my mother. Everything about her is musical: her abilities of retention, analysis, performance, and interpretation of classical music are extraordinary (my assessment is not, I assure you, solely based on the fact that she is my mother). She should be an artist in some capacity. What's tragic is that she sees herself as a failure. 

Throughout my mother's schooling she was repeatedly told that her talents were useless, and she still believes it to this day.  She is plagued by the fact that she never mastered advanced math.  When I tell her how valuable her true self is, she beams for a moment, only to shake her head and say, “Yes, but what use is it?”  This firm belief is why she precludes herself from any possibility of starting an artistic life, even in her retirement.



It’s almost as if the message is: If you’re not innovative in a shortlist of pre-approved fields, you might as well give up. After all, how many George Balanchines and Paul McCartneys are out there?  

As Sir Ken Robinson put it succinctly and rather devastatingly, “We are educating people out of their creativity.”


How can we find a balance?  How can we do our due diligence, yet still find the breathing space to find our true talents?  If we don’t happen to have a supportive community be it family or school or workplace, we must find the courage to strike out in our own ways.  


First, acknowledge your talents and abilities.  Make a list and keep it handy, if it’ll help remind you of who you are and that you are valuable for your unique qualities.  In my mother’s case she can’t even bring herself to do this first step, so I’m writing a list for her to see what results.  I’m hoping my admiration for her will help her see just how valuable her talents are.


Second, find opportunities, no matter how small, to put your ideas into play.  Attach a concrete reason to work on your idea.  As I read once, “If you like something, find a way to call it work.”  Give yourself a goal.  Before I started this blog I knew I loved to write, but had never done anything about it.  I realized I’d never given myself a reason.  My blog was the vehicle through which I set my goals.  Every week I had to brainstorm ideas to write about. Even if I didn’t come up with anything I ultimately used, at least I’d done something.  Psychologically this reinforced the legitimacy of my project, and equally important, it became a habit.


Third, find a way to get some kind of external validation for what you’re doing.  It’s really difficult working in a vacuum after the initial groundwork is laid.  At some point, find someone to share your work in progress with (don’t wait for that perfect moment; it doesn’t exist!).  It could be a family member, friend, or a shot in the dark submission to someone in that field whom you admire.  If your idea is work-related, try to find a mentor or someone you trust to bounce your framework off of.  That person may point out aspects you’d never considered, allowing you to strengthen your work before you bring it to a bigger (or more crucial) audience.


It’s a cycle. After presenting to a confidant, it’s usually necessary to go back to your inner world and reassess, restructure, redo.  Hopefully this process will build on your confidence, even as setbacks give you reason to improve and/or bolster your belief in your work.  The key is not to lose courage.  If your idea means enough to you, you’ll find ways to carry on and fight for it.  It takes guts to try something you might have been told is impractical, will lead to a dead end, will cause you to lose your current job, will render you a pauper ... the naysayer’s list is endless.  

But as Steve Jobs said, why live your life for someone else?  If you don’t believe in your own particular kind of creativity, the only person who will be left asking “What if ...?” in the end, is you.

Progress and Results = ...?

I have never been a natural "turner", as we say in the dance community.  One of several important aspects of turning successfully is to spot, a technique in which the dancer rotates the body first and the head last. This allows the dancer to anchor him or herself to a direction, and prevents dizziness.  It's taken me considerable work to gain proficiency; in the process I've fallen out of turns, succumbed to severe bouts of nausea, the works.

But now, even as I am acutely aware of my shortcomings, I've discovered that I can execute multiple pirouettes (turns) with a much higher success rate than before.  Focusing on the basics is paying off; I see the results, I feel the results, and a feeling surges within me - I'm making progress!

How does 'making progress' happen in the office? The definition of progress can vary greatly depending on one's job function, obviously, but as a program manager in my current organization, I find I don't always know what this means.

When working on dance, on the base level of technique it's apparent when things aren't going well.  It feels terrible, both physically and mentally, because there's no fooling yourself if you're executing technique incorrectly.  Physics doesn't lie.  (This is not to say that there aren't subtle ways to cheat; that's another topic entirely - for the purposes of our current theme, let's assume that the dancer is conscious of clean technique.)

This in turn applies to making music.  It's not working if the sound that comes out doesn't align with what's on the page, or if the notes don't connect or the phrasing is broken due to poor fingering choices on the piano.  You can hear it, and you can feel it.

As in the office and in the arts, we are similarly driven by priorities and business needs - the choreographer wants to work on a Tibetan dance, and it's my job to study and learn how to internalize the traditional movements and culture of Tibet; the director of my organization at the office wants to launch X within 1 week, and my work as a program manager is cut out for me.

I suppose I could say that I'm making progress and seeing results when I'm nearing completion of my portion to make the launch of X possible.  But somehow, it doesn't feel like I'm gaining expertise - I've developed a strategy and labored away, but that's just it.  I'm making progress for the organization, but am I making progress for me?

That's the difference; when I work on executing a decent pirouette, learn how to shrug my shoulders with just the right insouciance for an Uighur ethnic dance, or finally master the intoxicatingly furious ending of Ravel's Valses Nobles et Sentimentales No. 1 on the piano, I know what I am internalizing.  I know when I am making progress, just as I know when I am not.  The results, or lack thereof, are clear.

This realization is startling, because this clarity contrasts deeply with my other life: I haven't figured out what it means to me to make progress at work.  Perhaps it's because I'm not operating at my forte, that I'm not in an environment or job function in which my path and growth flow innately and operate in harmony with the priorities and needs of the organization.

That leads to the greatest question: am I in the right place at all?  In my heart, I want to believe I'll instinctively know what it means to make progress when I've found work that truly means something to me.  I won't give up; I'll keep asking myself tough questions as I explore and find my way.

While I forge my path there, my labor at the dance studio and at the keys of my beautiful Steinway grand piano will remind me of the way it feels to find my way forward, naturally.  

I am Not a Robot

It's long been a point of pride for me that I can keep myself in check at all times: no matter what comes my way, what I show the world will be the picture of positive calm.  To do otherwise would be to show weakness.

At least that's what I learned in life so far, whether it was being admonished as a child if I showed any signs of unhappiness or contrariness, or quickly learning in the dance studio that one must work through all kinds of pain and frustration or risk getting nowhere fast.

I've been the recipient of gratitude more than a few times in dance rehearsals and meetings at work, as I was able to keep everyone working together in contentious situations. "How do you stay so even-keeled, Susan?" I'd get asked.

The truth: it isn't easy, especially when I'm keenly disappointed or frustrated about something.  I'm just so practiced that it comes unconsciously.  I think to myself, what can I do but to stay positive?  It admittedly exacts a toll deep within me, but I reason that it's worth it to maintain the harmony amongst those around me. I shouldn't bother them with my troubles.

Therefore, it came as a shock when I was told by a manager at the office that she thought my attitude seemed disingenuous.  That is a word that I don't associate with myself (who'd want that?).  "I don't know what's behind that smile," she went on to say. It turned out that to her, I came across as something like a robot, an automaton incapable of being affected by anything.  In striving so hard to stay motivated in an environment that has been a real challenge for me, my positive attitude made me suspicious.

It shook me to the core to see that my well-honed, punishing self control came not only at the expense of my own emotional and psychological well being, but hindered the development of a professional relationship.  Granted, this is but one (and to date, the only) significant feedback I've ever received on this topic so I will take it with a grain of salt. All the same, I felt betrayed. Betrayed by what I'd believed throughout my life, that to show anything less than shining would be a sure sign of weakness.

True to my nature, I'm moving on and doing my best to analyze and internalize learnings.  I now tell myself that it's okay to express displeasure or to show that things are not exactly sunny, if they aren't. I have to literally repeat this to myself because if I don't, my autopilot mode is to do exactly what I've practiced so carefully over the years - I can corral my own pain and spin things positively without a thought. It happens in the blink of an eye.

To illustrate: last week a senior manager I deeply respect asked me why I wasn't up for promotion this year. As I began to explain the circumstances, she interrupted me and exclaimed, "How can you be so positive about this?  You have to let it out sometime!  Be frustrated!"  Suddenly I realized, good heavens, I'm doing it again.  I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge my own pain. At least I can identify this now. That's a first step.

I admit I don't exactly know how I will figure it all out, because I'm reassessing one of the major foundations of my understanding of interactions with myself and with others.  The silver lining is that it's dawned on me that by acknowledging my feelings and articulating them in the appropriate way -  rather than suppressing them and not conveying them to others - can I begin to truly accept myself. In refusing to accept all of me, I cannot bring my true self to those around me.

I envision my body opening, almost like a banana peel, and into the eternity of the blue sky and fluffy-white clouds of a Magritte painting. All parts of me are dispersing and merging into the universe that is me, however surreal, and I am accepting everything with the calm and surety of a brook flowing downstream.

This feeling is a start. It's hope.

A Healthy Dose of Inexperience

We spend so much of our days working.  Whether learning on the job to hone skills we need to smooth our path to corporate success or practicing scales or going through steps in the studio to become better performers, we are constantly striving to improve our skills.

But what happens when we have focused so much on gaining knowledge and working towards perfection?  It's entirely possible that a buildup of knowledge can actually hinder your ability to be spontaneous/creative.

One summer day, a six year old me was gallivanting by the waves on a Monterey beach, my family nearby.  One particularly vigorous reach of water crashed near me and snatched my shoe right off my foot.  I ran headlong into the wave, located my shoe in a vortex of seawater, and emerged triumphant (and sopping wet), shoe in hand.  My parents were shrieking and horrified; I was scolded thrice over for having been so reckless.

The truth was, I simply didn't have the experience to tell me that running into a large ocean wave might be considered dangerous. I felt perfectly justified to go right up to that wave and take back what was rightfully mine!

As children, we may not have yet experienced knowledge that cautions us again and again not to do something, or to think before we attempt something because we've been told the goal is foolish or not worth it. But what about us grown-ups? Can't we retain a healthy dose of fun and spontaneity in our lives?

Twyla Tharp wrote in the "Skill" chapter of her book "The Creative Habit" (if you haven't noticed by now, Ms. Tharp constantly inspires me with her straightforward wisdom), "In its purest form, inexperience erases fear. You do not know what is and is not possible and therefore everything is possible."

I try to maintain inexperience by putting myself in new situations.  This can mean riding the subway in Beijing for the first time and seeing that the way to get on the car is to run headlong into those who are trying to get off the subway (seems counterintuitive to me, but that's how it's done - "competition is the spice of life here," one native told me), or jumping into a new assignment at work despite not knowing how the heck I'm going to accomplish my goals (observe, learn, figure it out as I go).  Inevitably, I find I've gained perspective that changes the way I live my life, or at least dislodged something in my mind I'd always assumed was true.

That said, I like having an anchor to come back to, things I have loved for as long as I can remember. This can be a physical location (home), or an activity that helps me feel like I'm back in familiar territory (dance class).  Yet even in this state there are ways to find inexperience.  I love studying foreign languages, and I can always stretch my knowledge of those I already have a command of, or start a new one.  A different style of dance can teach me ways to use my body that I'd never known possible.

Each adventure comes with the thrill of the new, the shaky first steps ("Can I do it?"), and the eventual gaining of skill. The common thread that runs through each experience is the willingness to cast aside previous conceptions and assumptions of whatever you're trying to do.  Who cares how you did it before, or if you've never done it before?  How will you ever know what life could be if you don't try?

Let your gut guide you in the directions you take - even the paths that seem insignificant at first can bring immeasurable gains to your world.  Give it a try!  The worst that can happen is that you'll learn something new.  Take the leap, fall and get up again if you have to.  At the least, you'll gain the wide world of possibility.

My Own Worst Enemy

I've recently begun to see that I have a worst enemy. You may wonder, why even consider the concept of a worst enemy? Shouldn't we all work in harmony?

Yes, we should! But I came to realize that my own worst enemy is ...

Me.

I don't mean to be overdramatic; I only mean to emphasize that I am capable of thwarting myself even when I believe I'm doing everything I can to excel. The time this unexpected false friend tends to comes to life is when I feel the need to prove myself.

I am beginning to realize that this affects how I communicate with others and how I work.  It's most dangerous because it distracts me from my true goals and hampers my ability to focus on what really counts.  This phenomenon is two-pronged:

1) The desire to prove to others that I am good enough, that I can handle it
2) The desire to prove to myself that I am good enough, that I can handle it

These may seem similar, but there are slightly different consequences to each. In the first case, I may overstylize a movement in rehearsal to try to stand out when I'm supposed to blend in with other dancers, disrupting the harmony in the choreographer's eyes.  At the office, I may end up chiming into an email thread or discussion where I am not really an owner or stakeholder, but I feel the need to show that I know something about the situation.  Not only does this not add value to others, they're probably wondering why I said anything at all.

In the second case, more dangerously, I may take on more than I can do safely and risk depleted health and injury.  At the office, equally dangerously, I may subconsciously avoid asking for help because I want to show myself that I am capable of accomplishing something, unaided.

This brings me to an important point: Asking for help is not only okay, in many situations, it is the courageous thing to do!  Admitting to yourself that you need some guidance or support requires humility and collaboration - both good things.

In the end, I can't help but think back to the phrase "Get over it!", which was the title of an earlier post, but in this case I take it to mean that I am not that big of a deal. If I do my due diligence and reach out to others in collaboration, people will understand naturally what I'm good at and what they can come to me for.  There is absolutely no need for me to overdo it or try to hit people over the head with poorly targeted communications that seem to come out of left field.  This doesn't help anyone, and hurts mostly me!

It's more humble pie, and hopefully better awareness to a smoother and more fruitful working life. In the end, I hope this brings me more inner harmony. If I trust in myself, I won't feel the need to prove myself at all!