I forgot how much I love reading the CMMI model...

I've been reading portions of the Chrissis interpretation of the CMMI-Dev model v1.2, and find the process of studying it strangely reverential. Like a good Bible study, somehow. It's been over a year since I cracked it last. I'm looking forward to the release of version 1.3 this fall with the kind of giddiness that I experienced waiting for Ice Age to hit theaters.

Checklist Manifesto

It's been a very busy year since my last post here, and I'm glad to be in a position to start blogging again. I'm focusing on professional and self-development books and resources here. One of the ways that I stay sane during my 2+ hour commute is to listen to audiobooks. I also have a deep and loving relationship with Amazon.com. As a result, I have a backlog of good, recommended books that I've consumed over the last year, and over time I plan to go back and address a number of them.



I'm currently nearing the end of The Checklist Manifesto. Although it focuses on the medical community, there are lessons to be learned simply about how people process information, remember steps of complicated procedures, and can be gently and effectively encouraged to remember the important things with measurable positive outcomes. Gawande brings in industries other than the medical/surgical environment including airline and construction, demonstrating the same levels of successful improvement of outcomes based on having a simple checklist reminder to focus on what's important moreso than on what's loudest or comes to mind first, at crucial stages in the performance of a process.

I read this book with an eye toward how to simplify core procedures in a corporate environment, in part to achieve higher levels of process compliance (after all, I do perform internal audits), and in part to define and measure positive work outcomes. In the medical context of the book, I'd be asking not only how do we ensure that certain steps to prepare for surgery are performed consistently, but how do we measure that the outcome of surgery is improved by performing those steps. In my context, how can we ensure that we achieve process compliance, and also how do we correlate process compliance with improved project outcomes -- customer satisfaction, on-time delivery of work products, reduction in defects identified in testing, etc.

The lesson is apparently universal. People respond well to simple lists of reminders that are clear and well thought out. If the items on the checklist are well-selected, the simple act of focusing ones mind on them at critical moments can have a profound positive impact on both compliance and outcomes.

Conclusion: Recommended reading for medical and other industry process improvement.

Rereading Loving What Is

Four years ago, I ordered a copy of Loving What Is from Amazon. It sat with a couple of other self-helpy, get-sane-quick books on my desk for some time when I was struggling worst with my job, my life, my marriage, my parenting. When I think back on it, there was rarely a moment that I was happy that wasn't all about the oxytocin rush of holding my son. I could hold him and smell his little baby boy smell, and I could even just imagine holding him and sniffing his little head, and I would get this amazing flood of well-being. The rest of the time, I just wanted to wish hours and days off of my life so that I could get to a part of it that didn't hurt as much. I remember thinking that it's like solving a Rubik's Cube -- sometimes, you just are in an arrangement that can't be solved, and you have to keep moving the pieces randomly until you get to a solvable configuration. And so it was with life. At work, I thought I couldn't possibly win or get anything meaningful done; at home, I thought more of the same. And I kept trusting that eventually, life would become solveable, and took it as my task to just survive until I saw the pattern that I could fix.

Things are so much better than they were then. Looking back, I blame probable post-partum depression, I blame sleep deprivation, and I blame myself for not asking for the help that I needed. I'm sad, perhaps, that others didn't recognize in me what I had no idea to watch for or how to recognize, no matter how obvious it is with 20/20 hindsight. But I feel strong and capable and hopeful now -- I feel like I've got the pattern figured out, and now I'm just slowly and methodically working my way through the puzzle, fixing things as I get to them, trusting that I can work with each pattern as it comes up to a successful resolution.

And I'm glad for the books that I read, mindlessly, non-absorbant as I was at the time, because even if I couldn't use those tools then, they distracted me for a time, and became part of the toolkit that I have today.

I picked Loving What Is, a book describing The Work of Byron Katie, off my bookshelf the other day, and am looking forward to the refresher course in breaking free from encrusted ways of thinking and checking out the possibility that if the perception of a problem is causing you pain, maybe it's not the problem, but the way you're perceiving that's the source of that pain.

As a doctor of mine once said, "Pain is your emotional response to a physical stimulus." There is no requirement to feel pain in response to a skinned knee or a jilted prom date or a broken heart or a frustrating job. The eyes we use to see sometimes determine what we end up seeing, and the eyes are equal partners to the vision.

Story, part 3: The value of a traditional job.

My family is opinionated. Let's hear that one again. OPINIONATED. And not afraid to tell you about it. This information will be important later.

So there I am, no job, not quite sure what to do with myself, knocking around and finding bits of piecemeal work, enough to pay the bills, keep the lights on, buy cheap things to put in the $30 crock pot that turns all manner of cheap things into something resembling food. I found that I was pretty happy in this arrangement. I began to fantasize about maintaining this kind of lifestyle, what it might take to market myself as a consultant. Get my own insurance. Go it alone.

As a single woman, living in a house that needed maintenance and repairs, making mortgage payments, it felt risky, but in a "wheee!" kind of way. Like getting on a rollercoaster. I knew I had the skills, that I would be able to find the work. I just needed some help making the connections.

I shared this thought with my family. See above. It wasn't pretty. Apparently, to my complete amazement, the long-term relationship between employer and employee was covered on a day that I was out with strep in my childhood, because I missed that lesson. On the other hand, there was a fairly strong sentiment coming from the general direction of my childhood home that it was absolutely going to be the downfall of society that people were no longer thinking of themselves as employees. That we wanted to choose our work, direct our own careers, think of even our employers as customers, and not tie ourselves to desks for 40-60 hours a week on the vestigial hope that our loyalty would make them loyal to us in return. As I'd so recently so clearly seen, no amount of love and loyalty buys you corporate safety. Being honest about it and making the transactionary nature of employment more visible seemed like the next logical step to me.

I flashed back to my childhood, recalling hearing my stepmom occasionally bark "Oh, Rebecca, you're such an iconoclast" at my retreating back after some teenaged snit. But the time that she made me write the definition of Integrity on posterboard and hang it in my room also came back to me. And to me, integrity strongly smelled of freedom.

I made some contacts, and got some short-term jobs. One recruiter made a contact for me with a company making a very interesting medical device, and it needed documentation. I met with the client, we came to an agreement about my terms, I began work. Truth is, I can't recall how it happened exactly, but one day they requested to convert me to a full-time employee. For the first time since my revelation about having my freedom as a consultant, I took a job, this time with my eyes wide open. I consciously traded 40+ hours a week for the safety of a regular paycheck. I knew it every minute that I was at work, all the moreso because they had so very little for me to do. They didn't really want documentation, and they really didn't want training materials. My guess is that they wanted to be able to say that they had a writer on staff, but the system didn't require documentation. Dozens and dozens of users telling me the contrary didn't make a difference -- it's what they wanted to claim. And I helped, by being there, on staff, 40 hours a week, doing almost nothing. When they finally came to their senses after some months and let me go, it was like stepping out of a huge tub of boiling water. MAN it felt so good when it stopped.

Part 4: Conscious Employment.

Sleeping dragons lie.

I thought this would be a fun blog, and then abruptly I felt like I had nothing useful on the topic to say. I realize now that it's been over a year, and it's time to get back on the dragon, as it were.

I find that my life goes in cycles where I am drawn to self-development material, and other cycles where I can't imagine why I ever would have read such a book, thought such a thought, taken such a class. I'm in a 'drawn in' phase.

For the last two years or more, I've had a long commute, and discovered the joys of audio books to make the time that I resented so much for being wasted in my car more useful to me. In two years, I've listened to thirty to forty audio books, ranging from fiction to history to business, and indeed to self-development. I barely use my ipod for anything but audio books and podcasts, but heaven help me if I get in the car without it.

Yesterday, I downloaded Five Wishes by Gay Hendricks from Audible.com, and I've nearly finished it in a single day. The premise is simple: On your deathbed, what are the five things that you would say caused your life to be a failure, if you continued on your current trajectory? VOILA! You still have time to correct them, and knowing that THE SUCCESS OF YOUR LIFE is on the line, well, hop on it!

Hendricks then goes through the story of the five that he picked, and how he has changed his life in these areas over the subsequent 30 years. I am secretly annoyed that the ones that I instinctively go to match his at an 80% rate. But I digress.

I find myself aware both of the ways that my life falls short of the mark that I'd like to reach, and the ways that I am surprisingly on track. Having reached the age that my mother was when she died sometime last summer, I have a profound sense that I'm living on borrowed time, and that if I actually get to live all the years that she didn't, I'd better live them well for both of us. In a very clear, short, succinct way, this book provides an interesting structure for figuring out how exactly to do that.

Lost my mind and got a website.

It's not up yet, but it's under active construction now. I got a domain name -- it was my first impulse domain name, actually -- to structure the information I'm collecting based on the kind of thinking I've been doing here. My list of links is huge; my stack of books is staggering. It's time to make some sense of all of it.

The book that hit me the hardest recently is this one, and I can't recommend it enough: Crucial Conversations. About how to handle conversations with "high stakes," where emotions run strong and people have a natural inclination to withdraw or overpower, it gives guidance on how to stay present and keep the other person present in a cooperative spirit based on maintaining sight of a mutual goal, not just "winning." It is without a doubt the most important book I've read all year, and possibly ever in this category.

Enthralled by Covey and Maria Montessori

Just tossing up a note to say that I'm in the midst of a Steven Covey read-a-thon. I've listened to 7 Habits in the car while reading 7 Habits/Family, and pre-reading 7 Habits/Teens before giving it to my stepson.

Simultaneously, I've been reading some of Maria Montessori's books about her teaching method. I'm shocked by how similar some of the basic concepts are.

Bitching and Moaning Revisited

On Yom Kippur, we attended our synagogue's family service with my 3-year-old son. Perhaps the most charming part of the event was the way he would sing along, even in Hebrew, but only in his Cookie Monster voice. Cute stuff. But I digress.

As a part of the service, one of our rabbis introduced the idea of the Complaint-Free World. We were each issued purplish rubber wrist bands of the Live Strong ilk, and presented with the plan: Wear the bracelet, and each time you catch yourself complaining, switch it to the other wrist. The goal? To wear the wristband for 21 days, the length of time it takes to change a habbit, on the same wrist without having to change it.

I've had mine on ever since that afternoon, and I'm finding it changes wrists on average once a day. Sometimes I switch it in advance because I sense a whining session coming on and I just acknowledge it and switch as payment before I start. Sometimes it goes for days without moving. Once or twice, I've switched it for massive internal whining when I felt wronged by something, even though I wasn't actually complaining to another person. And once last weekend, I changed it 3 times in about 15 minutes at a party because I was unable to hide the fact that I was pissed at my husband. When my mother-in-law asked me what was wrong, I told her I couldn't tell her because I'd have to change my wristband. And then I realized that threatening to change my wristband in those circumstances was code for the bitching I wanted to do, and so I changed it.

I am notoriously hard on myself about things like this.

The church that sponsors the program will send you a wristband for free, and takes donations to fund the operation. They even have instructions for how to properly remind someone else to change THEIR wristband.

Don't you wish everyone had one?

Story: Part 2 - plotting next steps

Late April was springing and beautiful. I dedicated myself to finding another job, but not TOO fast -- after all, I did have some severance, and some savings, and it felt like a rare chance to enjoy spring.

But without taking any time off, I established a pattern that surprised me -- I got up early each day, far earlier than I had as an employee, and went to my desk with a cup of coffee and an enthusiastic spirit, eager to take on the project of finding work and managing my life until I had found one.

I took the concept very seriously -- right now, my job was to make sure that my bills were paid. I suddenly was much more interested in where my money went than I even was during my divorce at the worst of my "going to live in a box" paranoia. I had spreadsheets of all of my bills, and reconsidered everything. Cable was one of the first things to go. Interestingly enough, one of the things I *did* spend money on was my house -- I arranged to repair and cover the wood trim on the outside of my 1950's bungalo with vinyl, terrified that I wouldn't be able to pay for it, but also certain that it needed to be done and that somehow, I'd find a way to handle it.

For about 2 hours every morning, I searched job boards before the start of the regular business day. Monster, HotJobs, Dice, Washington Post job listings -- I searched them all, and gathered a list of all of the jobs that might be plausible. Then I went out into the day, taking my coffee and a magazine onto my back deck to enjoy the morning air, feeling that I'd accomplished a lot in the hours I would usually have spent dressing and commuting, and now, when my day would have just been starting, I was able to pick how I wanted to spend my time for most of the rest of the day.

After breakfast, I planned what I'd do for the day. I was able (and needed) to cook much more than I usually would have, and eating food made from actual! raw! ingredients! became part of my day. I bought a crockpot, and discovered that it's possible to make an amazingly good stew by just throwing a few raw things and some broth into a bowl and plugging it in. I also enjoyed doing other enhancements to my house, painting some rooms that were still the dingy off-white of my married days, and finally completing the task of cutting up the nasty beige carpet and hauling it, bit by bit, out to the curb.

At lunchtime, I did another round of work, often researching the companies where I'd found promising ads, revising my resume, and taking the opportunity to learn some new skills. I began playing with Web graphics, something I never did get good at.

In the afternoon, I made phonecalls to former colleagues, initially for suggestions on possible jobs, but after awhile, after they suggested consulting opportunities, I began to look around for people who needed a temporary technical writer or editor.

I picked up a short-term project, working for a woman I had myself hired (and been devastated to see laid off in an early round as our company imploded) a couple of years before, and enough money came in to pay the mortgage without biting into savings that month. A fencing buddy came through with a job writing a manual for a piece of software that paid another month, and gave me the flexibility and freedom to enjoy my summer.

Around 3:00, I knocked off, whether job searching or doing consulting work, and the end of the day often saw me hiking the trail around a nearby lake, or riding the bike I bought for myself shortly before all hell broke loose. A backpack held a notebook and pen, and I toyed with the idea for what I thought would be an interesting book. Parts of it still sit on my hard drive, overtaken by other events in my life, or perhaps just marinating.

What I found was that my early morning, noon, and late evening work hours allowed me to really enjoy what felt like expansive freedom, despite the fact that I was working as many hours as ever at my job. Being able to pick my time and plan my approach, though, gave me a whole new way of seeing things.

I did truly come to think of myself as a small business in this time. It was energizing, exciting -- I felt alive in a way that I hadn't experienced before. Completely alone, not tied to any other person in a significant way, I felt absolutely free to make my choices independently, and as long as the bills were paid, I was winning.

My family, however, was very concerned about my situation.

Next: Generational debate over the importance of the traditional job.

Story - Part 1: The Layoff

It was April of 2001 when the company I had worked for for nearly 4 years finally hit the dirt for the last time. Our small startup, fueled by the dot-com expansions of the late 1990s, imploded on itself one last time, this time taking me with it.

I'd seen it before more than once, and been part of preparing for it before more than once, so when I saw the tell-tale signs of a layoff without warning, I knew that this time, I was in it. My usual lunch companions (or at least, those who were left at this point) left sheepishly, after muttering excuses about having to go to lunch early. Those of us left in the office received an email to come to the conference room for a meeting. I walked out into the hallway and found other people who hadn't put 2 and 2 together yet.

"What are we doing?" they asked.

"We're getting fired!" I shouted with enthusiasm -- "C'mon!" I broke into a Wizard of Oz skip on the short walk to the conference room. They stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

We'd seen it coming for ages. Our company had missed our IPO by less than 24 hours with the sudden downturn of the NASDAQ the previous fall, and a series of emergency measures to save us, including being purchased by another company, simply hadn't gained traction. Some of us held onto hope that we could at least package up our product so that eventually it would be saved. And it didn't hurt that the job market in our sector after the NASDAQ "tank" was weak, to say the least.

At the meeting, we were told of our separation packages, the COBRA benefits available to us, and thanked for our dedication in such a troubled environment. Personal information was exchanged. We returned to our desks to find that our network access had been cut off, and we had each been assigned an escort while we packed our desks, got our personal files from our hard drives, and exited the building. I remember a feeling of exhilerated freedom during my walk to my car -- quite the opposite of what I'd expected to feel at such a moment. Others trudged to their cars, voiced concerns about finding another job, walked with stooped shoulders. All I could think was "it's a beautiful day, and I'm finally given permission to go be a part of it."

I took in a deep breath of clean spring air and decided to go for a walk when I got home. I thought about how I could cut some expenses; after all, I was fairly recently divorced and paying the full mortgage on a house I had not expected to own on my own when we bought it several years before. I did have six months of salary saved, somehow -- in the early days of my separation and divorce, when I joked to my divorce lawyer that I feared "turning into a bag lady or living in a cardboard box," I'd also begun to save money compulsively, to be sure I could protect myself in just this kind of situation. In fact, I'd taken to throwing my loose change into a salad bowl on my dining room table, so that I'd always know that I had enough money to call for a pizza if I really, really wanted to. When I finally cashed in that salad bowl of change several years later, there was nearly $400 in it.

Filled with optimism and relief, I went home, hatching plans in my head for how I'd manage my job search and what I would do next.

Mr. Universe as role model?

On the recommendation of my favorite coach Mike Litman, I picked up a copy of ARNOLD: THE EDUCATION OF A BODYBUILDER and began reading it last night. Expecting it to be fully an autobiography, I was rather surprised to find that half of it is diet and exercise instructions for bodybuilding, with the aim of "becoming huge," something I, a 43-year-old 5'7" woman with a 3-year-old child, don't plan to be doing any time soon.

However, I was really impressed by his instinctive understanding about how to motivate himself to achieve his goals. Learning at an early age that he was able to control some things about the world and himself but not others, he apparently innately understood how to capitalize on that, set goals, and never waiver, no matter how much negative feedback he received.

His focus on staying on the high road, too, was impressive. There's a long (for the book, the autobiographical portion of which is only perhaps 100 pages) story about moving to Munich to take over management of a gym, and the subsequent realization that the man who hired him and brought him there from Austria was intending to make him his lover. Although understanding that it would further his goals faster if he went along with it, Arnold also knew that he would get there with his pride and integrity intact without the assistance, and without sacrificing his values in the process.

He admits to his failings, too -- his use of women as sexual objects only, his tendency to aggressiveness to build up his self-image when he was not yet himself convinced of his own value. But one of my most important take-aways from this book is that each time he reached the realization of a weakness, whether emotional or moral or physical, he immediately took corrective action. His calves were not developed compared to the rest of his body? He brought them up to his standard. It was the obvious next step. And he extended this into other parts of his life, taking the same approach with his mental and emotional development.

The book was published in 1977, and the photos of the exercises show a Conan-era Arnold. I'm eager to find a Governator-era biography that shows how his fundamental understanding of how to achieve his goals has played out in his acting and political careers.

Much as with his approach to bodybuilding, where you bulk up to get the volume, and then refine to get the detail of muscle definition, I feel certain that the mental Arnold in this book is a bulked-up but not refined product. It would be most interesting to see how he refined his mind after 1977.

Backsliding....

One week, I feel like I can take on the world, like there is NOTHING on earth that I can't accomplish. One week, I feel like I can't be trusted to simply keep myself and my child passably hygienic and in one piece without supervision. What the devil is the difference between these two weeks?

My theory is that it has to do with the people I am surrounded by. That if I am surrounded by people who expect my best, I feel like I can give my best. If I'm surrounded by people who see me as inadequate, or convey that they see me as inadequate, I feel inadequate. That how I see myself is, in large part, affected by how I see myself mirrored back in the eyes of the people around me.

I was a 21-year-old college graduate in my first job doing secretarial work in 1987, doing mailings to a group of educators. Not challenging work -- in fact in retrospect, it was darned dull, except that the material itself and the environment was so fascinating. The work, though? Dry as toast.

Last week, I met up with those educators again, and repeatedly had to explain who I was and why I was there. And during that day, I felt something slowly seep out of me. "Hi, back in about 1988, I used to send you packages of educational materials." I made jokes about it. "It was my DNA on the back of those stamps!" I joked about how long ago it was. "Back at the dawn of time? I used to mail you stuff." The best responses were simply the ones that said "Oh, yes, I remember you!" and then let it pass. The worst were the ones who were effusive about what a good job I did and how much they appreciated it. I couldn't figure out why those bothered me so much. Ultimately, I've concluded that it's mostly because I really didn't think what I did there was particularly important, and certainly didn't warrant excessive, what seemed to be labored, protracted appreciation. It was a lifetime ago, and I put boxes in the mail because I had no discernable professional skills. 20 years later, I've worked in a completely different field long enough to have a reasonable reputation and expertise in something that has no meaning to this group of people.

I tried to be gracious and laugh it off, and succeeded until the conference director, as I was thanking her and making my exit, told me to "stay in touch, but you know - not every day."

I arrived home, and my husband told me that our son hadn't even noticed that I was gone. The next morning when my darling son awoke, he told me that he didn't want me -- he wanted his Daddy.

Wow: talk about feeling like you don't have any street value!

I'm looking now for ways to protect myself from this feeling in the future -- this feeling of having no value to others in my world. What are the things that I need to do, surround myself with, and focus on in order to keep my awareness of my value, even when I'm around people who clearly can't see it?

Right now, I'm thinking of books that I can read, lectures I can keep on my iPod, touchstones that I can keep with me that keep me centered when the world around me is eroding my sense of self.

I'm open to suggestions.

Trick for offloading anxiety

For as long as I can remember, I've carried a bubble of forboding in my chest. It's heavy and cold to the touch, and it lives behind my sternum, a little off to the left. Some days it's bigger, some days it's colder and more tightly packed -- but it's always there.

Why I have it is the stuff of years of therapy -- but nothing I've done has ever made it completely go away.

I was surprised to read an article (which I can't locate at the moment, but will try to find) that addressed this issue, and gave a method for, if not getting rid of it, at least "tapping" it to release some of its contents. It's a three-step process.

Step 1 - Gather all of the anxiety together into a single bubble. (Imagine my surprise, learning that I wasn't the only one with a bubble of anxiety!) There may be little bits of it spread out throughout your body. Sieve yourself bottom to top to gather together the bits into a single bubble.

Step 2 - Mentally, insert a straw into the bubble to allow its contents to escape. I envision this like putting a straw into a juicebox, and then squeezing slightly -- the anxiety pours right out through the straw.

Step 3 - Once the bubble is depressurized, remove the straw.

It was shocking to me how clear it is that holding this anxiety is simply a habit, and the mental imagery of essentially bleeding it off helps me to relieve it. The article from which I got the image suggested doing it as often as needed, until you are able to maintain the habit of NOT carrying the anxiety to begin with.

4-Hour Work Week - followup

I participated in a teleseminar this week with Tim Ferriss, author of THE FOUR HOUR WORK WEEK, and he was as motivational on the phone as his book is in print. He sounds like a young guy -- like someone who could be your beer-drinking buddy on the weekends. And the main point I got out of what he talked about on the phone is that it doesn't require a huge amount of money to start living the life he's talking about -- it just takes knowing what you want to do.

Having a dream. Knowing your dream. Being able to figure out what your dream costs.

His website provides a lot of the core information from the book, as well as some additional features for those who have bought the book, that you access through a password hidden in the book itself. Pretty clever.

People who motivate me: Mike LItman

I fell down a rabbithole one day, no doubt looking for material for facilitating a group at work, and discovered a man whose philosophy has already begun to change my life: Mike Litman.

I don't know quite what else to say about him. His core philosophy seems to be this:

Don't get it perfect, just get it going.

Which isn't too far from my own:

Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.

Though I think he's got a better positive spin in his than I do.

His website includes MP3s of discussions with successful entrepreneurs -- definitely worth popping them into iTunes for motivation. In Anthony Robbins-speak, I have a very positive neuroassociation now with just the sound of Mike's voice, and listening without even paying attention to one of his 15-minute phonecall audios is enough to energize me for the rest of the day. Sometimes, I make a conscious effort to talk to myself in his voice as a pick-me-up.

Current reading: The 4-Hour Work Week.

I'm currently reading The 4-Hour Work Week, which has the unfortunate side effect of meaning that I'm not reading anything else but Harry Potter 6. The book itself recommends a kind of colon-cleansing process of limiting your intake of information to only those things NECESSARY to your most important priorities.

I bought the book several weeks ago, and carried it with me back and forth to work as a kind of physical reminder that I needed to crack open my mind to another way to live. And there it sat on my desk, for all the world (including my boss) to see, espousing a 4-hour work week. On a time & materials contract? HA! Okay, that was bad. So I flipped it over, thinking that would be better. 6 hours later, I noticed that the back cover clearly said in large print: "Do not read this book unless you want to quit your job." *sigh* So much for not telegraphing my punches, right?

I'll be participating in a teleseminar tomorrow with the author. I'm looking forward to finding out if he's as motivational in voice as he is in print.

This is not a dragon.

Somewhere in my mid-adulthood, I came to an important discovery about things that are fearful in life -- that generally, we give them the power to be fearful through the act of fearing them; they don't hold that power intrinsically. And so I came to my motto on the subject:

A thing is not a thing unless you MAKE it a thing.

And then I began the slow and arduous process of owning my life, taking posession of my own power, and developing wisdom.

I begin this blog as a place to summarize and catalog the many ideas, techniques, and tools that I'm learning about that at least have the potential to advance my life in positive directions. I have only a few groundrules:

• Remain curious.


• Suspend disbelief as much as possible.


• But don't be stupid.


• Share what's good with the people it may go on to benefit.


• Be honest, and as much as possible transparent.

The title of the blog comes from something my son said one morning. He's 3, and he was holding a stuffed dragon, and looked at me very seriously and said "This is not a dragon." I hope he'll get this stuff much younger than his late-blooming mother.