Philippe Lazaro
OCTOBER 2016

Some Dad Things

In Fatherhood and Full-Fledged Summer Mode

The past couple weeks have totally had me in a groove with dad life. The shift to summer has brought about later nights out with the kids, movies in the park, beach trips, not to mention my oldest graduating from his daycare center, my youngest potty training, and of course, Fathers’ Day last weekend.

Speaking of Fathers’ Day, Deanna absolutely killed it at making me feel loved. I’m a tough person to sneak surprises by. I can’t help that I was raised on the Boxcar Children and a bunch of detective shows. But she managed to successfully hide a large package somewhere in the house without me knowing. A large package containing an inflatable stand-up paddleboard.

There’s a bit of cheeky irony to the present. A few years ago, we considered getting a pair for each other as a Christmas present. We’re big into the experiences-over-things sort of gift-giving, and while paddleboards are definitely tangible objects, they were also portals to all these adventures in my head. I imagined us deflating them to get into check-in bags, taking them down to Costa Rica, doing some jungle paddleboarding.

Then we found out we were expecting and quickly abandoned those ideas.

To me, the gift felt like a celebration of sorts. Our kids are entering into new phases of childhood and the baby era is pretty much behind us (I’ll feel much more oomph behind saying that once potty training is complete). While having three under five is still a busy, busy life… it’s different than when we used to say three-under-three.

Our kids have successfully joined us for international trips, camping weekends, and other experiences. We can go to restaurants that have a crayons stash. As they’re gaining independence, we’re also getting parts of ourselves back.

For Fathers’ Day, Brad & Kristi Montague did a little strip for the New York Times to tackle the question “What is it like being a dad?” and well, I loved their description.

Vomit, a lot of work, and an adventure…

I’ll be honest, when I first had kids, it felt like the sudden disappearance of the adventures I used to decorate my life with. I can’t justify spending a week climbing a mountain when the kids are in diapers at home with my wife.

When I first became a dad, it was just a few months ahead of the pandemic lockdown, so it was easier to stomach knowing that I wasn’t actually missing out on much. In some ways it was efficient to have my paternity hiatus overlap with the world’s hiatus.

But when the twins were born the world was just starting to open back up. People were adventuring again. Except for me. I felt like I signed an extension to stay at home even more.

At first, I felt self-conscious for feeling this way. It felt selfish to crave backpacking trips. I had always wanted to be a dad and it was even better than I expected. The kids were absolutely worth it all. But I realized I sought adventure because it overflows from some of the truest parts of me. The part that wants to learn, to be challenged, to experience, and to be immersed in the textures of life.

Adventures are exhilarating, exhausting, terrific, terrifying, and leave you feeling the deepest gratitude.

But wait… couldn’t that be said about fatherhood? (It could! Brad said it!)

Sunday afternoon, we took the paddleboard out for a test drive… test float? Test paddle.

Anyways, we brought it out to our favorite hidden beach nook, and after I made sure it was in working order, I gave each of the kids a turn riding the board. The water was choppy and colder so we didn’t stay particularly long, but on each of them I recognized the facial expression that pops up whenever you’re engaged in a new, unfamiliar activity and all senses are flipped on.

Adventure.

These days, I’m no longer inclined to think of adventure and fatherhood as such a either-or binary. Fatherhood is a perfect application of everything I’ve learned from backpacking, travel, and exploring.

Endurance.

You’ve got this.

Pay attention.

Don’t take it for granted.

And it’s not like my life is at all deprived of any adventure these days. If anything, I wouldn’t mind things slowing down a bit. It’s been my most travel-heavy year, and I’ve gotten the gift of taking the kids along on a few of those journeys. I’ve seen my twins run through Portuguese plazas. I’ve seen my oldest wake up on a train as it pulled into the Arctic Circle. The best adventures are the ones you share with your favorite people.

In the long run, they’ve only amplified the spirit of adventure in my life.

A few more random notes from dad life:

I just finished Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation which basically argues that today’s kids are suffering as a result of more phones and less play. It’s compelling, and while my own upbringing has made me sensitive to all the ways restricting stuff only makes it more alluring, I do find the arguments against early intros to smartphones and social media solid. Plus, the things you gain by encouraging more real play are so alluring.

“When in doubt just get them out,” has been a helpful dad mantra more often than not. When I recently had to do a solo weekend with two of my kids, I made the decision to go with no screen time and to double down on the parks and playground visit. It seemed like a sacrifice to give up those moments of relief where I could just get them entertained for a little bit, but in the long run, they were in such a good state after all the time outside I think I had an even easier time with them than anticipated. 

The one thing I would do differently with screen time is hold off the introduction to YouTube. There are way too many people making weird “mental crack” for kids. There’s a lot of good stuff too, but it’s so easy to get derailed from that to the weird stuff.

Its not even all bad, necessarily, but for a while one of my kids loved a channel made by some midwestern family of their kid testing toys he was sent for free. It was essentially a commercial.

I eventually created a new rule. “Loud” shows can be played for 6 minutes, “Medium” for 12, and “Chill” for 20. That actually has worked quite well.

A word of appreciation for:

Reggie Jackson

ICYMI… Major League Baseball hosted a special series at Rickwood Field in Birmingham, Alabama, to celebrate the Negro Leagues. What was supposed to be a celebratory series between the Cardinals and Giants was taken to the next level after Willie Mays passed earlier in the week. The tone was still mostly celebratory, and in my opinion, the stories of the Negro League ballplayers should be celebrated. Whenever I’m in Kansas City next, I’m making a beeline for that museum. But with that approach, you do run the risk of presenting a sanitized version of history that overlooks the true adversity Black baseball players faced not terribly long ago. (You can even find clips of Ryan Howard talking about being pulled over, or Torii Hunter sharing why he’d never play in Boston for real recent history.) As part of the celebration, FOX Sports invited baseball legend Reggie Jackson for an on air interview, and I think he caught people by surprise with his candidness about what he faced. It wasn’t easy, but it was important.

Last Trips Booked

I just booked the last of my 2024 travels, barring some major surprises, and I’m excited. Excited both to be back in Southeast Asia later this year and excited to have a good long stretch afterwards of being at home.

This has shaped up to be my most travel heavy year in over a decade. Maybe ever, depending on how you look at it.

I love it, and I don’t take it for granted how big of a privilege it is to see all the places I get to set foot. The experiences I enjoy are once in a lifetime, except I’m fortunate to have a few of them a year.

I recently talked with a friend who went through a health scare where suddenly a bunch of dreams and ideas for adventures were things he couldn’t even think of anymore. That makes me thankful for my tendency not to delay acting on most wild ideas, knowing that the years aren’t promised.

But I’ve also developed a taste for some of the things I get to do at home when I have longer stretches in one place. Real simple things, like housework and more elaborate meals and being able to say yes to more invitations knowing that it’s not another week where I should be getting ready or recovering from a trip.

All that to say, rather than seeing these two sides of my life in competition with one another, I’ve started thinking, how lucky! I get to order from both menus.

This Coffee Hits Different

Some day I’m gonna have to make a list of the most memorable cups of coffee I’ve had in my life but I know that the ceremonial coffee in Ethiopia would definitely claim a spot.

Coffee in Ethiopia is a triple threat:

First, it’s the birthplace of coffee. There are legends surrounding its origin but as far as people can tell it’s rooted in the reality that Ethiopia is the first known place to harvest and brew coffee like we know now.

The whole process of drinking coffee is a multi sensory experience. The aroma matters as much as the taste, and the process of roasting and pouring is as elevated as it gets.

And finally, it’s straight up tasty.

Anxious Collaborators, Michael Jordan, and You

Have you ever been in this situation?

You’re working on a project with another person and throughout the process it becomes clear that they have high anxiety about the outcome of your work. It gets to the point where it almost feels like they’re expecting things to go wrong. They ask questions, but not the helpful, clarifying kind. More like the urgent, panicked kind.

It’s a bit insulting, isn’t it? Or maybe it’s just me. But in a few circumstances I’ve been in the position of working with someone who expresses so much anxiety about the project that it’s hard not to feel like it’s a vote of no confidence.

A lot of these ideas came up during my time outside on a recent camping trip. For our family, it was our first camping trip in nearly two years, as our youngest kids are finally back at a good age for camping weekends. Here’s the micro-adventure in vlog form.

Lately, I’ve been more aware that I tend to take this to heart, and it’s not a great feeling. I know that growing up I often struggled with feeling a bit underestimated and so every time I had to pair up with an anxious collaborator it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I was especially annoyed whenever the person’s anxiety didn’t come to me directly and I found out in roundabout ways that my partner lacked confidence.

I’m thankful I’ve done a bit of the work to know that this is something I’m a big more sensitive to. I’m thankful to have some inklings about where that comes from. I know that I was especially prone to being insulted by the anxiety of others when I was younger, less experienced, and I constantly felt the need to prove myself.

Now that I know I’m sensitive to this, I can work on being less reactive to it.

The thing that’s helped me take this less personally is recognizing that some people are simply above average when it comes to anxiety. It often takes the form of behaviors like verbally expressing doubt, perfectionism, and micromanagement. That scrutiny you get is most likely due to the other person. Not you.

An analogy I use sometimes: Imagine being on a basketball team with Michael Jordan and a bunch of scrubs. Let’s just say that on the court, it’s you, your anxious collaborator, MJ. Rounding out the team are Wayne Knight of Seinfeld fame, and Bill Murray. It’s a partial Space Jam reference and your overanxious collaborator has the ball.

His feet stop. He’s gotta pass.

He scans the court. Who does he go to?

In his right mind, the choice is obvious. Gotta go with the GOAT.

In all likelihood he does.

But remember that anxiety is not a logical actor. So even though he passes to Mike, a whole bunch of second guessing kicks in.

If you’re Michael Jordan in this scenario it’s probably pretty reasonable to feel insulted in this scenario. Heck, if you’re Patrick Beverly you should be insulted. None of the alternatives are ballers.

But you gotta not do what MJ so famously admits to doing in The Last Dance.

Don’t take it personally.

In general, across a whole bunch of different areas in life, it gets way easier to not be thrown off by other people’s commentary or feedback if you keep in mind the fact that most of it reflects their inner state more than your own. Of course, words and feels are all real, and so this is always easier said than done, but letting the awareness sink in that this is part of human nature tends to be a big help.

It also invites you to reconsider the times and ways you express your own doubts about certain things and whether those approaches might be a bit insulting to others. I am a big believer that a lot of times, the main thing it takes to get a person to blossom is a simple, clear demonstration that somebody believes in them and their ability. A belief that they belong.

Regardless of how skilled or accomplished a person might be, so many people constantly struggle with that question of whether or not they belong. Sometimes it takes the form of impostor syndrome or just old school self-doubt. Whatever it is, it’s helpful to remember that having somebody’s back doesn’t always mean coddling or double checking what they do. Sometimes it looks like demonstrating trust.

I’ve found it strangely reassuring to remember that most people are anxious about themselves, their work, and how it will be received. This is so widely the case that people’s thoughts are primarily turned inward rather than outward when it comes to criticism and judgment. I’ve found this tendency to be freeing, knowing that people are their own harshest critic. People may extend their own self-criticism your way if you happen to be collaborating on something together.

I think I’ve gotten to a much better spot when it comes to receiving the anxiety-laden thoughts of somebody I’m working with. On one hand, my job is always simply to do the best I can and to remember that the thoughts and feelings of others are usually out of my hands. On the other hand, if there’s something within my power that can help somebody through those concerns, why not?

Learning how to let go of taking things too personally invites a whole lot of freedom. It’s a much better spot to create from, and it can help you respond to anxious collaborators with more empathy and calm, rather than defensiveness and reactiveness.

Addis Film Squad

I’ve had some incredible guides and fixers on my storytelling trips but the work of our Addis Ababa based team was really something special.

Yikuno and Abel brought the consciousness of locals and the skills and experience of professionals. They helped translate and record interviews, simultaneously making every subject feel comfortable and aware of the value of their story while making sure they were facilitating the conversation with the finished product in mind.

This collab went so well I basically decided to make it a priority to do everything I can to work with locally based creatives. I learned how to recruit them across a variety of settings, and it’s a good way to make sure your presence brings some benefit to the local creative community, beyond just raising awareness.

Impression of Valencia

My impression of Valencia? This is a really easy place to have a good life. Glad we got a taste of it.

It feels like the San Diego of Spain in a lot of good ways. Its location right on the coast. A strong zoo/museum/aquarium game just around the corner from a sprawling city park. Plus, its status as the “third city” shields it from the crowds, frenzy, and urban chaos of Madrid or Barcelona, but its still large enough to have its own pull.

We stayed in a condo a very easy walk from the beach, so times we ventured into the city were more limited, but I could tell from the notices posted all around town that there’s no shortage of activity. Meetups, groups, community. Loved it there.

If I had to pick a long-term hub to base myself in Europe, and especially if I was really interested in Spain, Valencia would be on my short list.

As Slow as Porto

The Japanese word that’s challenging me to make space

Every now and then you have a foreign word with no English equivalent that gets so popular, entire books emerge. Japanese and Scandinavian languages are responsible for a good portion of them, from wabi-sabi to ikigai to hygge.

But you know, more often than not, there’s a good reason they catch on so well.

I’ve recently become pretty motivated by one of them in particular.

Yutori.

Yutori is a Japanese word that describes living a more spacious life. It’s a life with breathing room, the space to slow down, and to not be so frenzied. It’s a life without a sense of rush, hurry, or time scarcity, with more opportunity to take deep breaths.

The art of spacious living is something that’s long eluded me, but having a term for it has someone made it a more tangible concept. One that I can try and steer towards.

A little look at our time in Portugal.

For whatever reason, the first half of this year has been going at a pretty frantic pace. I’ve already had six international trips, dealt with a few shortages in childcare, and kept the ball rolling on work and related projects. To take it all a step further, I’m also currently marathon training, which kind o/f epitomizes where life is right now.

It’s kind of felt like a feat of endurance.

Rest has been elusive.

There was this little stretch right after I got back from Portugal where Deanna got sick. This also happened to be Mother’s Day weekend. I decided to do the morning and evening routines with all the kids so she could get rest. However, this also happened to be a weekend where I had two improv shows on consecutive nights. And in the gap between them, I also had to manage a 16 mile run.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt my body demand rest quite so intensely.

The idea of simply being able to lay flat for a good while and do nothing seemed so appealing, yet out of reach. There was yet another demand, another work task, another moment I needed to flex to cover childcare. I really just wanted that space for nothingness.

It kind of made me yearn for Portugal a bit. The space where I was just one week prior.

Yutori may be a Japanese word, but the Iberian Peninsula is a pretty good spot to practice it. I find that Spanish and Portuguese cultures do provide ample time to move slow and look around. And they actually reward you for doing it. Take for instance, these buildings. These tiles. These are gorgeous. It’s your loss if you just speed past them on your daily commute.

Practicing Yutori, cultivating a spacious life has helped me build up a better resistance against time anxiety, as well as living in a hurry. 

As much as I admire Yutori, I’m not all that great at it. My default tendency is to approach life with an appetite to pack as much into it as possible. I also like this about myself, as its led me to do a lot of cool stuff, so I haven’t wanted to stop being such an enthusiast. Just to curb its ill effects a little bit. 

I figured an approach of Yutori could help a little bit.

Portugal felt like an opportunity to live days that weren’t dictated by the clock. Where I could be freer to follow the rhythms of body, nature, and spirit.

In Portugal, time just seems to move slower. There’s not a frantic rush to get everywhere. Eating times tend to drift later.

My observation is that whenever I’m visiting a country or setting that approaches time in this fashion, what they receive is an abundance of time. If not an abundance that can be measured, at least a sense of abundance where the days feel longer and slower. Where there’s more room to take in the world around you.

It can look like trying to arrive at a place a little bit early so that when you get there you have a moment to look around. It’s reading a really good part of a book and realizing that you don’t have to continue on. You can just take a moment and let those words sink. It’s catching yourself while you’re eating, to make sure you’re not just shoving in bite after bite, but truly enjoying each one.

Because in the US, in our regular life, it’s so easy to being a hurry. And you hurry because you have a lot of things to do, you try to pack it all in to a single day. Sometimes I fall for this fallacy that if I do things quickly, if I accomplish things twice as fast, then I’ll free up time. Have more time to relax.

That rarely works.

Instead it makes you work at this frantic pace. Your effort to create time is actually making you feel like you have less of it.

I visited Portugal with my friend Daniel and his wife, and I also had my whole family along for the trip. This includes our three kids who are all under five. The spaciousness of our time there allowed me to actually enjoy the moments we were spending as a family together, without feeling like my head was too caught up in the logistics of making everything work out.

I’ve been hoping to use the experience I had in Portugal to launch into a life with more Yutori back home. It’s been a struggle, especially with all the demands of life picking up and unforeseen incidents like my wife getting sick and having to step it up more to cover. But I think my past tendency has been to get stuck living at that rhythm, rather than treating it like an aberration and then attempting to course correct as soon as I can.

These days, I think my practice of creating more spaciousness looks like being really generous with the allotment of time I give myself to get things done. When I plan my schedule, I give myself whole hours to do things, even if I know I could maybe get it done in half that time. If nothing else, I’ll just produce more quality work with that space.

After all, when it comes to my work, if I just do one single meaningful thing that day, it moves things forward. There’s no need to get greedy by trying to stuff it all in. I’d rather do one meaningful task, and do it mindfully, and do it better, and enjoy doing it, than simply trying to cross off a long list.

One other practice that I’m working on but finding much harder is this.

Taking to different activities like it may be the last time I do them.

I don’t want to be morbid about this, but to a degree, keeping this in mind can be very helpful. It stops me from overplanning the next trip while I’m on this one. It helps me try and get the very most out of whatever I’m doing.

When it comes to art, especially visual art, I’ve long been aware that creating more negative space gives more room for the highlights to be appreciated, for the important things to stand out. Between having young kids, a variety of creative endeavors, and opportunities for adventure like the time I spent in Portugal, there’s a lot I like about my life right now.

However it’s a bit too easy to lose sight of how good I have it when I’m constantly in a crunch.

Creating a more spacious life is one of the best ways I can think of to honor all the good I’ve been given.

Fry Creek

After 2+ years without camping as a family, are the kids finally old enough for us to have it back in our lives?

Also, sleeping outdoors always leads to good epiphanies. I discovered my need to stop taking the anxiety of people I collaborate with personally.

Azulejo

I live in a world where most physical structures look the way they do for the sake of efficiency, whether that’s saving time or money for the sake of profit and productivity. But beautiful things aren’t efficient. And so many parts of the world have great examples. The ornate temples of Thailand and Myanmar. The handpainted fileteados of Argentina. The tesselations of Islamic temples.

Portugal’s azulejo tiles are iconic. I love the way that they appear on all kinds of buildings. Old churches. Humble housing complexes. There’s no requirement for the building to be of grand importance for it to get the detailed, artistic treatment. It simply needs to be important to whoever owns it or uses it, and the artist.

Diplomats vs. Cyberbullying

I have a tendency to say yes to things before I’m totally aware of what I’m getting myself into.

When my organization got an email to its inquiries account asking if somebody would conduct a workshop for our local diplomacy council, I said yes.

It was only later that I received a meticulously organized 15 page document with the biographies of a couple dozen leaders from all over the world that I realized I committed to a rather large event. On top of having a large number of high profile people, I also discovered I would be giving a workshop on social media best practices. And that the workshop would span two and a half hours.

I raced ahead to the office that morning to try and get a jump start on setting up the place. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that successful at getting a jump start. Our attendees had arrived early as well. As I pulled up to the office, so too did a very large white bus. Out of the bus came a seemingly endless string of people, mostly dressed in suits and business attire, visibly from… everywhere. The mosaic of faces that came out of the bus really looked about as diverse of a group as you could ever assemble.

I welcomed the group and thanked them for coming.

“And a description of yourself?” he reminded me.

I knew this group put a strong effort towards accessibility and accommodating different needs, which is why about five of six people in the room were support persons to make things accessible. There was at least one visually impaired attendee.

“Could you tell the group what you look like?”

I realized there that this could also be a litmus test to see how delusional I was. If I went off and started saying standing before you is a tanned, athletic-built, bronze statue of a man. 6”2. Wearing an $800 fitted silk shirt, hinting at impressive upper body strength.

I resisted the temptation to embellish.

The diplomats introduced themselves, and I was impressed by the spread of countries. Botswana, Nepal, Poland, Angola, Samoa, Ukraine, Norway, Paraguay, Pakistan, India, Chile, Liberia, Egypt, Bulgaria, Georgia, Myanmar, Hong Kong, South Africa, among others.

The woman from Samoa was incredibly nice. She was working on reentry opportunities for people being released from prison. The woman from Poland worked with refugees who were staying in the country; she even brought me a thank you gift for having everybody. It was a colorful pair of socks with a design drawn by a refugee child. The guy from Pakistan was actually doing intense and important work with victims of sex trafficking and gender based violence.

Now to present to them on social media for the next couple hours.

I began my training on social media best practices. The idea came from them, but I spent years managing our organization’s account. In more recent years, we added a specialist who works a little more directly with posting and publishing, but I managed her and was still highly involved. I also had my own work as a creator.

I told people that social media management could be a full time job, and even a fully staffed department. If your team didn’t have the budget for it, or if you only had one person doing this work on top of other job responsibilities, then you probably shouldn’t compare yourself to organizations that have invested more. I shared what we were doing.

I realized that I was already 30 minutes into my presentation and most of my tips were to essentially temper their expectations. I felt like I was maybe being a de-motivational speaker. Every social-media-growth-hacking video comes out so high energy, like IF YOU’RE NOT USING THESE HOOKS, YOU’RE MISSING OUT ON GROWING YOUR PLATFORM! Meanwhile, I’m like, if it’s not for you, it’s not for you!

I also shared tips on how to take one piece of longer content and generate dozens of different posts from it, as a time-saver.

Then we got to the Q&A.

I got several good questions but it was one of the last ones that stood out to me most. The gentleman from Paraguay, who was the executive director of an environmental organization raised his hand and asked simply, “How do you deal with mean comments?”

The guy next to him from Nepal nodded along. I heard several people echo, “yes,” and the room seemed to collectively lean in. Everyone was listening extra attentively to this.

“Some people just want to watch the world burn,” expressed the man from Angola.

Wow, I thought to myself. I have this room full of dozens of diplomats… and the thing everyone wants to talk about the most is cyberbullying.

I guess it’s a problem, no matter where you live. No matter how high status you might be.

At the end of the day, despite the internet of things, we’re all just human beings trying to be loved. People who wake up hoping that a good day awaits us.

The representative from Egypt echoed his concern with a story. At a climate conference he organized, he served burgers for lunch, to the displeasure of an attendee. He was sympathetic and understood the concern, and offered falafel as a substitute. Even though he made things right in the moment, this attendee continued to pop up and berate the organization on all of their social media posts.

I’m fairly lucky in this area. I’ve grown my following to a pretty decent size while keeping the haters to a minimum, both for me personally and the organization. I think I have a few areas of privilege helping me out there, though. If I was female, I have no doubt that this would be higher.

The other day, I saw a video posted by a stranger of them making a mango horchata. This looked so good. I bookmarked it to save the recipe, intent on making it sometime. The highest visible comment was somebody arguing that she should have cooked the rice before steeping it, and all the replies to that set off debates about being really from Mexico and the right way to add rice to your horchata. The next comment was “what a waste of a perfectly good mango.” Like, if you just want to eat mango without horchata, go for it, ma’am. Nothing stopping you. But that’s not much of a recipe video. Why did you feel the need to drop by and say that?

I reminded everyone that 95% of the time it’s probably best to block and delete and move on. Your time and energy is too valuable, and is already needed elsewhere. That’s what I did in most scenarios. Sure, every now and then you actually stumble into a productive conversation that leads to better understanding. I’ve had it happen, but it’s rare, and you kinda got to develop the sense for it. Most of the time, people are posting away because it costs them nothing, and it gives them a chance to act in a way that you really can’t in the real world.

I block and delete, because the sooner you make their efforts futile, its more of their time wasted than yours.

I will admit, though, sometimes I peek at the profiles. And that almost always goes one of two ways.

One, you see an actual person. Maybe photos of them with their kids or dogs. And while their caption wasn’t them on best behavior, you start to see that maybe it came from somewhere. Maybe a stressed out human needed to let off steam. Maybe they should try pickleball instead of social media comments, but we’re all a work in progress.

Or you see a private account. Or one with three followers and no posts. This reminds me that this isn’t a person who is doing the work. Any work. This is a person- maybe a person, maybe a robot- that shows up just to be belligerent. They’re not contributing to anything in the world. Always a critic, never a creator. And that’s not somebody whose input you need to put too much stake in.

I’ll always remember the time I got to speak with dozens of diplomats from all over the world and the topic that got the most attention were mean comments on the internet. The people on the other end are simply humans trying to be loved.

Summer of Kindness

Ten years ago this month, my world was hit by twin tragedies. A vehicle collision took three lives in my community. They were finishing a tour I had gone on just two years prior. Then a mass shooting took place at my alma mater, one of the deaths being blocks from my old house, at the convenience store I went to often.

It was the worst way to kick off that summer, but in response I declared it would be a summer of kindness. Whatever that meant.

It turned out to be a summer for healing and some of the best memories of my life. I met a stranger in Korea who met the three souls. They inspired him to go there and help North Korean refugees. I was welcomed into a refugee camp in Thailand. I saw my grandma one last time at 96 years old. I introduced her to Deanna. I went to Japan and Taiwan, seemingly to end the rugged backpacker chapter of my life. I watched the World Cup final at 2AM in a Taipei market next to hostel friends from all over the planet. I saw bison in Montana up close. At the end of it all, I got engaged.

That summer started with senseless loss. And it continued to not make sense, but in other ways. Hospitality that went beyond reason. Kindness that went beyond common sense. Serendipitous encounters that were too incredible to be coincidence.

If you were in any way a part of my summer 2014, well, thank you. Thank you.

More Human Moments

In Mexico, I spent some time with Don Carlos before I interviewed him on camera. We made small talk, and joked about Taco Bell. He was a migrant worker in the US for a little bit and had the best sense of humor.

In Burundi, I spent some time with the group before our interview trying out every Kirundi phrase I knew. Somehow being a bit shameless was something they found endearing and we found a fun way to play.

In Ethiopia, our video subjects were a married couple who opened a bar. I bought a round for the “extras,” their actual customer, and took a shot of their homemade areke myself.

I’ve learned that if you want to tell a good story, you gotta tell a human story. The very best way to do that is to have a really human moment beforehand, whether that’s taking shots or talking (taco) shop.

Listening for a Change

Time to start developing this crucial skill

I think that over the next ten years, the single action with perhaps the highest potential to ignite change and action will be something that’s a pretty lost art these days:

Listening.

It feels so passive, especially in contrast to speaking out, but I think whoever takes the time to master the art of listening will become a real force for change.

So much of the ongoing calls-to-action around the world are to speak up. To speak up for justice, to speak up for peace, and to reject silence. I have no problem with this, and I think I’ve seen a lot of things change in real time as a result of public pressure.

The general public sentiment towards Gaza has really moved over the past few months, though there remains a lot of work to be done.

Over the past five years, so much climate action has been driven by grassroots pressure, exerted strategically.

Speaking up is extremely important of course, and will continue to be important. But as we’ve been in an era where the possibility of a big platform always seems within arms reach, when apps are constantly asking us to broadcast our thoughts and ideas freely into the world, and where public figures are put on blast for what they ~don’t~ say just as much as what they do say, I do think that’ll start to put a premium on the other side of the coin: listening.

Already, some of the leaders who’ve gained a following more quickly did so because of their perceived ability to hear the concerns of their audience. This can be used for good or for harm, but a strong predictor of success has been how well a leader has been able to put into words the feelings and sentiments of a wider audience, and mirror it back to them. When the world feels cacophonous, the sense that something you say, think, or feel could be received by somebody brings satisfaction and relief.

If you look at any hot-button topic right now, one that tends to stir up a lot of anger in conversations, you’ll find people who don’t feel like they’ve been heard. I do tend to believe the best in people and often have to reconcile that with the reality that there are masses who support absolutely ridiculous and reprehensible things.

One of the things that’s helped me understand that a bit better is a sign that was in a middle school classroom I once taught at.

“The kids most in need of love will ask for it in the most unloving ways.”

I think that a lot of the people who have had their cries for justice long ignored will ask for it in unjust ways. In ways that bring injustice and harm towards other people.

Anger, as an emotion, is something that signals to us when our sense of justice, of right-and-wrong has been violated. So even when someone’s being angry about something ridiculous, if you dig deep enough you can often find something at the start of their anger that makes a little sense, even if it’s misguided in the broader context of the situation.

I believe that the discipline of listening can help change these situations. It can help diffuse that sense of anger. It can bring people down from their reactive state of mind into a space that’s more rational. When people have been heard, they can no longer act on the feeling of having been unheard, and can instead meet the world around them a little more evenly.

I’m not suggesting this means we should give a platform to every person with some sort of crazy rant to go on. There are already enough podcasts that seem to do that pretty effectively. In fact, I don’t think the space where we’ll recover the art of listening will be on a podcast or on stages or any of the big-public-mass-media spaces we fix so much of our attention on.

I think they’ll be happening in more personal spaces, in face-to-face conversations, and in small groups.

Part of why the art of listening has gone out of fashion has been that we’re kind of out of practice. It feels like low hanging fruit, but there’s probably a lot of truth to the culpability of social media and all kinds of technology that skew our habits more towards speaking and listening. Plus, society seems to reward those with a lot to say than those with the ears to listen.

There’s also probably the sense that listening is a passive action at best, and it can’t possibly generate any of those changes we so urgently wish to see in the world. Even recommending listening as a means of social impact feels a little bit woo-woo.

It’s easier to track the logic of so many speaking up against a certain thing that those responsible have no choice but to succumb to the pressure and leverage their positions to enact a little change.

Tracing how listening can create an impact feels less linear.

When listening feels like a lost art, however, it ends up putting a premium on those who can actively incorporate listening into their approach to creativity and activism. Having some practices to hear the voices around you, to offer space where others can feel heard, and to display responsiveness towards those voices will end up making your work far more effective.

These sound like the words of an idealist. I am an idealist. But there are so many real-world examples that vouch for this.

One of my favorite case-studies that demonstrates the impact of listening on real social issues has been the practice of deep canvasing.

An LGBT rights group went door-to-door during an election year starting conversations with voters about how they felt towards gay rights. They part of their approach was to not directly persuade anybody in any direction, but to simply ask questions. Their findings were two-fold:

When people were asked to articulate their ideas, they typically became more nuanced and flexible.

The data also revealed that this practice was one of the most effective strategies at moving people towards affirming gay rights.

One very different arena where I’ve seen listening take off has been how much more important crowd work has become in the world of standup comedy lately. Being able to communicate in two directions has become more indispensable.


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Listening for a Change

This skill will soon be one of the biggest forces for change

PHILIPPE LAZARO

MAY 28

 

READ IN APP

 

Time to start developing this crucial skill

I think that over the next ten years, the single action with perhaps the highest potential to ignite change and action will be something that’s a pretty lost art these days:

Listening.

It feels so passive, especially in contrast to speaking out, but I think whoever takes the time to master the art of listening will become a real force for change.

Watch Now

So much of the ongoing calls-to-action around the world are to speak up. To speak up for justice, to speak up for peace, and to reject silence. I have no problem with this, and I think I’ve seen a lot of things change in real time as a result of public pressure.

The general public sentiment towards Gaza has really moved over the past few months, though there remains a lot of work to be done.

Over the past five years, so much climate action has been driven by grassroots pressure, exerted strategically.

Speaking up is extremely important of course, and will continue to be important. But as we’ve been in an era where the possibility of a big platform always seems within arms reach, when apps are constantly asking us to broadcast our thoughts and ideas freely into the world, and where public figures are put on blast for what they ~don’t~ say just as much as what they do say, I do think that’ll start to put a premium on the other side of the coin: listening.

Already, some of the leaders who’ve gained a following more quickly did so because of their perceived ability to hear the concerns of their audience. This can be used for good or for harm, but a strong predictor of success has been how well a leader has been able to put into words the feelings and sentiments of a wider audience, and mirror it back to them. When the world feels cacophonous, the sense that something you say, think, or feel could be received by somebody brings satisfaction and relief.

If you look at any hot-button topic right now, one that tends to stir up a lot of anger in conversations, you’ll find people who don’t feel like they’ve been heard. I do tend to believe the best in people and often have to reconcile that with the reality that there are masses who support absolutely ridiculous and reprehensible things.

One of the things that’s helped me understand that a bit better is a sign that was in a middle school classroom I once taught at.

“The kids most in need of love will ask for it in the most unloving ways.”

I think that a lot of the people who have had their cries for justice long ignored will ask for it in unjust ways. In ways that bring injustice and harm towards other people.

Anger, as an emotion, is something that signals to us when our sense of justice, of right-and-wrong has been violated. So even when someone’s being angry about something ridiculous, if you dig deep enough you can often find something at the start of their anger that makes a little sense, even if it’s misguided in the broader context of the situation.

I believe that the discipline of listening can help change these situations. It can help diffuse that sense of anger. It can bring people down from their reactive state of mind into a space that’s more rational. When people have been heard, they can no longer act on the feeling of having been unheard, and can instead meet the world around them a little more evenly.

I’m not suggesting this means we should give a platform to every person with some sort of crazy rant to go on. There are already enough podcasts that seem to do that pretty effectively. In fact, I don’t think the space where we’ll recover the art of listening will be on a podcast or on stages or any of the big-public-mass-media spaces we fix so much of our attention on.

I think they’ll be happening in more personal spaces, in face-to-face conversations, and in small groups.

Part of why the art of listening has gone out of fashion has been that we’re kind of out of practice. It feels like low hanging fruit, but there’s probably a lot of truth to the culpability of social media and all kinds of technology that skew our habits more towards speaking and listening. Plus, society seems to reward those with a lot to say than those with the ears to listen.

There’s also probably the sense that listening is a passive action at best, and it can’t possibly generate any of those changes we so urgently wish to see in the world. Even recommending listening as a means of social impact feels a little bit woo-woo.

It’s easier to track the logic of so many speaking up against a certain thing that those responsible have no choice but to succumb to the pressure and leverage their positions to enact a little change.

Tracing how listening can create an impact feels less linear.

When listening feels like a lost art, however, it ends up putting a premium on those who can actively incorporate listening into their approach to creativity and activism. Having some practices to hear the voices around you, to offer space where others can feel heard, and to display responsiveness towards those voices will end up making your work far more effective.

These sound like the words of an idealist. I am an idealist. But there are so many real-world examples that vouch for this.

One of my favorite case-studies that demonstrates the impact of listening on real social issues has been the practice of deep canvasing.

An LGBT rights group went door-to-door during an election year starting conversations with voters about how they felt towards gay rights. They part of their approach was to not directly persuade anybody in any direction, but to simply ask questions. Their findings were two-fold:

When people were asked to articulate their ideas, they typically became more nuanced and flexible.

The data also revealed that this practice was one of the most effective strategies at moving people towards affirming gay rights.

One very different arena where I’ve seen listening take off has been how much more important crowd work has become in the world of standup comedy lately. Being able to communicate in two directions has become more indispensable.

I’ve been nudging the teams around me to think of how to better incorporate listening into their strategy. Sometimes its as simple as hosting more opportunities for people to ask questions or to incorporate their ideas that are related to your work.

There aren’t exactly any overnight strategies, however, to immediately become a good listener. Partly because it’s not the sort of thing you can strategize. Insincere listening simply doesn’t do anybody any good, so listening needs to come from a genuine desire to hear others’ ideas.

That desire can’t be faked. However, there are inner traits that can help make that desire more salient.

Humility.

Curiosity.

Concern.

I think the more you feed those inner qualities, the more likely you are to see effective listening emerge as an outcome. And as you see intentional listening increase, you’re also going to see more opportunities to create change.

Love to Dee

There’s just absolutely no way I have the life I have right now without the life partner I chose about a decade ago.

Parenting three very young kids takes more teamwork than anything else I can think of, and I scored the very best teammate. Deanna brings so much intention and creativity to parenthood, gives the kids a space where they can grow into the very best versions of themselves… and gives me that kind of space too! Whether that looks like giving me a daddy’s night on Wednesdays to go do improv or flip flopping our turns to get the kids ready so I can stick with my running schedule.

All that is on top of a day job where she keeps applying new skills to help people turn their lives around. She’s not even allowed to talk about it, really, so I’ll just brag about it the best I can. Vaguely!

It’s a beautiful life I get to wake up to each morning, and you make this possible, Deanna. I love you!

Kolkata Chai

Still not over the chai masala from Kolkata. On one hand, it’s a real simple everyday drink sold at corner stalls on the street everywhere. On the other, it’s actually a sophisticated combination of flavors and a texture that only comes from years of perfecting the pull.

Dear Dhaka

Dear Dhaka,

Before we met in person. I heard things. You were the most polluted city in the world. The noisiest. The most crowded. So I didn’t exactly have you at the top of my destinations list. But, seeing you up close changed things.

Pollution? Of course. But it’s also a country that uniquely displays climate vulnerability and the advancement of solutions.

Noise? Yes. But those are the sounds of perhaps the hardest working country I’ve ever been to. The men and women from all over converging on Dhaka to create better lives for their families.

Crowds? Yup. It’s growing. And it represents some of the most impressive strides against poverty, decade over decade any country has ever taken.

I’m glad we managed to meet in person. I feel like I understand you way better now. Also, don’t tell your neighbors, but you do biriyani best.

Azmara

I don’t take it for granted that I get to meet some of the most amazing humans through what I do. Here’s Azmara in Ethiopia.

One of the things that stood out to me while in country was how men and women were expected to occupy totally different spheres in society. On the surface it looked like very limited interaction between men and women, but deeper it meant fewer opportunities for women.

Azmara always knew she could do a little bit more. She was a skilled weaver and wanted to sell her art in the city. But no one would help her get started. Men in her area told her she should just settle and marry one of them. But she held on to her confidence.

She joined a Purpose Group, found the capital to turn her art into an income generating project. She even used that income to help her new fiancé go through barber training.

Now her family was in a much better position to welcome their baby, which she was expecting at the time we met.