A little over fifty years ago, a young American president stood in front
of the United States Congress to give his inaugural address, exhorting
the crowd to “ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you
can do for your country.” That famous quote – attributed variously to
Kahlil Gibran, Cicero, General Omar Bradley or Milton Friedman,
depending on who you talk to – is now a part of our shared history. It
was a rallying call to a new era of responsible citizenship, one in
which our participation is required if we want a different experience of
the world we live in. These are not “liberal” or “conservative” values,
but a belief in the simple idea that as adults, we each have an
obligation to pull our own oar.
In his book, The Mindful Leader, Michael Carroll
tells the story of a capsized riverboat in a Chinese village. As all
the villagers ran to the river to help, one man, an old fisherman, went
off in the opposite direction. People grumbled: “Look at him, what a
coward! Now we know what he’s made of.” As people rushed towards the
scene of the disaster, they struggled to save those in the water, but
they were too late. Those who had fallen into the river had been swept
away by the strong current. The fisherman, knowing the tides and
currents, carefully positioned himself downstream from the accident. And
with the help of a long bamboo pole, he singlehandedly rescued dozens
people one by one from the surging river.
There's nothing quite like knowing who you are and what you stand for. One startup clothing company in Brooklyn knows all about this. Last year, their company mission statement - dubbed the "Holstee Manifesto" - accidentally went viral, quickly becoming an internet sensation with more than 50 million views in a couple of months. When Holstee turned that message into a poster, it quickly became one of the company's top sellers. It's full of great lines such as: "Life is about the people you meet and the things you create with them." Notice how people comes before things. I believe this message resonated with the masses because it was a statement of their core values, not a traditional mission statement. Most company statements all sound alike, because they have very little to do with the actual people who work there.
One of my clients came to see me under orders from his employer. His
last position in sales hadn't worked out too well, and a recent string
of development meetings had failed to produce any successful results.
His boss was concerned and asked would I connect with him, lest he
somehow be sending out the "wrong signals." On the surface at least,
this young man was well-qualified and well-dressed. When I asked how
things were going, he slouched back on the couch in my office and said,
"I'm bored." And how is your boss to work for, I inquired. "My boss?
She's an ass." What about the company, what is the work environment
like? "It sucks." Every question was met with a similar monosyllabic
response: lame, awful, nightmare, and so on. 
I have a client who recently stepped back into the dating pool after enduring a painful
breakup. She’s smart, witty and attractive – a real “catch” by anyone’s standards. She tried online dating for a while with less than stellar results. She confessed that she found the first few dates awkward and stressful, probably because she attached a lot of weight to their successful outcome. “It’s exhausting,” she said. “It just feels like I’m on a really hard job interview, trying not to step on any landmines.” When we met again before the holidays, I asked how things were going and she seemed more optimistic. “I’m letting go of all my expectations,” she said. “I’ve decided I don’t want to carry all my old worries forward. From now on, I just want to have fun.”

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