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A good compromise is supposed to leave no one happy. The lack of one does the same thing. I don’t know where I read this but it certainly makes sense. Happy isn’t the goal of a compromise. Action is, moving forward is, taking new ground is… The NHL (National Hockey League/ owners) and the NHLPA (National Hockey League Players Association/ union) don’t seem to want compromise, even though they say they do… They want happy… Both sides want happy, and that apparently mean someone wins, someone loses. Right now it looks as if there will be no hockey, even a shortened season, because both sides want what they want. The fans suffer, the owners are losing money this year, and the players aren’t getting paid…nonetheless, no compromise. Our Congress doesn’t want compromise on the fiscal cliff issue; both sides want happy. And there really is no way for this whole issue to be resolved without a compromise. We can’t do exactly what both sides want, so there has to be give and ta...
Forwarding the Action means empowering others to succinctly address the matter at hand so the next thing can happen. Fundamentally, forwarding the action often means knowing when to shut up. That is a “big ask” of the average human being! I was going over a Vision document with Gary and Nancy, so they could critique it, add to it, and help me take it to the next draft. When they suggested I take out a part or say it a different way, I reflexively began explaining why I did it that way to begin with. “Well, what I had been thinking was...” “I know, I just thought when I wrote this that...” I forgot that the purpose of the conversation was not to uncover my motives for writing it the way I did. It was nearly impossible for me to simply shut up about that, and get clear on the new suggestion or addition. How much more useful to ask more about their suggestions than to defend what I had already writ...
It’s a mystery to me! I looked outside and the first, the one-and-only tomato, on one of our two tomato plants, was gone. It hadn’t quite ripened and I was going to give it one more day and then pick it. I had thought about bringing it in a day early and letting it ripen inside, but I felt like if it ripened on the vine it would be tastier. Now, it’s gone. I asked Cliff if he picked it. He said, “No.” We both looked at each other. He said, “Did you pick it?” (I am not sure if he was serious or teasing.) Now the “What’s happened.” is “The tomato is gone.” The story that we tell about it is actually stories plural. An animal picked it. A squirrel took it. I’ve seen big rabbits around. A rabbit ate it. A neighborhood child stole it. Neighborhood kids have been canvassing our tiny deck garden for years, looking forward to taking that one-and-only, prized-by-me tomato. And Cliff had another story: “Kimber...
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