General resolves, or, How I will make 2014 awesome.

2013 was, in a nutshell, alright.

I made dozens of new friends. I learned to cook. I started writing a blog, and I believe I became a better writer.

I was more stressed than I’d ever been before. I was always afraid of failure. I spent so many nights either apathetic to my work or praying for miracles. I never missed a deadline, but I never quite did my best. I still did well, because producing under pressure is a by-product of being a “good” procrastinator. I still felt guilty, because that is the primary symptom of all procrastinators.

It felt great to beat the odds, even if I couldn’t beat the demon that was the fear of failure.

There’s nothing I’d love more than to make a sweeping declaration, here and now, that I would never again let that fear hold me back. It would make me feel good and impart to all of you the hope that I believe you’ve come to expect from this blog. The hope that we can all be better.

Yes, we can all be better. That part is true.

But it starts with a belief. More than any quotation, any philosophy, anything at all, it starts with one belief: it’s the belief that you are in control.

There is something alluring about the belief that we are not in control. The belief that I need to be in the mood to work or have the right circumstances to produce. The problem is that, for me, this mood or these circumstances always rose up as the clock counted down.

No more.

Here’s the deal I’m going to propose to you. I’m going to spend one year taking full responsibility. I might still fear failure. But I refuse to let it hold me back anymore.

No more “doing my best, given the circumstances” when I  am the one who brought those circumstances about.

No more “being busy”. Busyness is an excuse. “Oh, why couldn’t you read that paper to know what’s actually happening in the world?” You weren’t busy, you were lazy, and to the point above, you chose not to read it. Being legitimately busy is one thing. Using it as an excuse is quite another.

I have resolutions, which I’ll share next time. If you’re making goals, remember to write them down and to structure them. If you’re so inclined, post them in the comments as a public commitment, and check back in a year to post an update.

Let’s make 2014 awesome. Let’s do it together.

                                                                                                                                       

As an aside, I wanted to say how thankful I am that you took the time to read this post and all the others. I didn’t start blogging to help people, but I continued because I did. What I didn’t expect was to open up as much as I did, and for the blogs to hold me to account as much as they did.

Thank you for reading. Thank your for inspiring me to be better. Have a happy and safe December 31^st, and until next time, C-Suite Dreams!

Editor’s note: If you understand the reference in my title, you’re wonderful. If you have a topic idea, I’d love to hear from you! Suggestions can be made in the comments section or on Twitter @JeremyDeMello.

We’re their success, or, Honouring our teachers.

This past week, two good friends of mine lost teachers who were tremendously influential on whom they have become today. Those friends are good, kind people. This post is written in respect to their grief, and as a reminder to the rest of us to be grateful for those who have made us who we are.

I talked a couple of posts ago about standards of greatness. How to define greatness is a question that has bothered me for a long time. I know I want to be great, but I’m not entirely sure what exactly greatness means.

Greatness could mean wealth, or fame, or power. Let’s go deeper though; rather than asking what greatness is or how to get it, let’s ask why we want it. Some will immediately say they want greatness in order to be happy. Not every great person is happy, and depending on your definition, not every happy person is great.

I would say the vast majority of us want greatness for the same reason: we want to be remembered. We want to leave a legacy. The danger with not defining greatness is that we open ourselves up to pursuing any avenue towards this end goal of being remembered.

Teachers have no such problem.

Teachers, whether they instruct inside or outside the classroom, know their standard of greatness; while it does not exclude wealth or fame or power, it does settle for these things either. The teachers I’ve been lucky enough to have have been successful in music, architecture, masonry, archaeology, and business; these are all fields my teachers pursued and left. They wanted to leave a legacy, and found these were not the field in which they could make this happen.

Teachers leave a legacy through their students. Teachers define greatness as creating better people. Teachers are not often remembered around the world or in the annals of history. Yet they and their lessons live on in their students, and in the people their students teach, and so on. Our teachers are great. Our teachers leave both the smallest and largest legacies imaginable.

To my friends who have lost two of their most formidable instructors, you honour their memory every day. You were privileged to have role models like them, and I’m sure they thought equally of you as students.

And to the rest of us who still have our teachers to talk to, what’s a quick email or phone call to say thanks? Teachers love to create better people, and showing gratitude is a hallmark of the best people.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some emails to send.

Editor’s note: If you have a topic idea, I’d love to hear from you! Suggestions can be made in the comments section or on Twitter @JeremyDeMello.