I do not remember any truly deep conversations with my father.

My father was someone who did not really trust the power of words. I have come to appreciate, since he died, that words could not express his deepest experiences or feelings.

Both of my father’s parents had already died by the time he turned ten years old. He was raised by two aunts, both of whom were schoolteachers. When I knew them, many years later, my main impression was that they were people who wanted me to be quiet.

My father served in the military during World War Two, which he rarely mentioned. He studied engineering, but left school before finishing his degree. He worked on an assembly line. He was not passionate about his work; it was not his calling. He worked, primarily, to make sure his children went to school.

My father told me to stay in school so I did not have to work for a living. Eventually, he said that I was “educated way past my intelligence.”

When I finished law school, his friends told me how proud he was of me. It was a revelation to me, the first time I had any idea.

If I were to describe my father in one word, it would be “expectations.” He was a person who worked hard to meet expectations, and who expressed himself to me through his expectations.

He worked hard at a job that did not fulfill him to meet his own expectations of himself. Within a few months after retiring, he suffered a fatal stroke.

He had his stroke on Fathers’ Day.

In many ways, my father’s expectations shape the deep conversations I have with other people now.

What deep conversations will you have today?

Who are the people you wish you had been able to know before it was too late?

[Image by Andrew]

I rely on my ability to focus.

During any given day, I focus my mind on reading, on listening, on writing. I focus effort on getting out of bed in the morning, making sure that the tea is exactly right, being on time, on walking without tripping. I tend to focus a lot on words.

I pay attention to how things taste and smell, how they look and feel. I work hard focusing on results. Sometimes I focus more on problems than on solutions, on challenges more than opportunities.

I focus more time than I would like on shaving each day.

Some colors get my attention, like red and cobalt blue.

As I focus attention on my focus, I realize how much I focus on things I would like to understand. When my computer, my iPhone, or my iPad do not do what I expect them to do, I respond with focus. My focus changes from the results I hoped to gain to the process that is making things “not work.” I want to understand what is happening so I can fix it now and avoid it in the future.

I want life to be predictable, smooth, and easy. I want to get things done. My attention tends to focus on things that appear to be obstacles or challenges. I focus on them to try to understand, because I want to control the situation.

My desires for control tend to kick my focus into another gear. I focus, trying to figure out which switches and knobs, which apps will get me what I want.

The more I understand about my own focus, the better able I am to focus my attention on other people.

Where is your focus?

What are the qualities that attract your attention?

[Image by Kevin Dooley]

Matthew Cavanaugh is a friend of mine. I met him first through his wife, Laura Knowles Cavanaugh.

Matthew enjoys doing many things I do, only in different places. He walks up the sides of mountains, while I usually walk on sidewalks. He goes out into nature to reflect on leadership and depth in nature, while I tend to wander around town.

We decided to trade guest posts about climbing the mountain of leadership.

Thank you, Matthew.

A few years ago, I climbed one of the notoriously hardest mountains in SoCal – Iron Mountain. “Old Iron” – as some purists call it – is a death march with over 7,000′ feet of elevation gain in under 7 miles. There is no water on this trail and the trail is not even, but, instead, alternates between kind-of-uphill and need-to-crawl-to-get-up-the-hill. It’s hard.

I met up with my group at the trailhead early in the morning and we – all of varying degrees of hiking experience – set out to gain the crown jewel of the San Gabriel Mountains. The first few miles were fun, as we joked, talked, and enjoyed the relatively modest beginning to the trail. However, 2 hours into our climb, we began to encounter the nastiness of the trail. At one point in time I can remember wondering if it was a good idea to hike this mountain without ropes. My body began to fight back, our group stopped joking as much as we had been, and the silence of the surrounding monoliths filled our minds. But we kept going.

I am what you might call a long strider. I am 6’4 and have very long legs. However, 2 miles below the summit, I felt my quads crying out for relief. No electrolytes, calories, or short rest seemed to help. Instead, I changed up my stride so that I was effectively relying on my calves and trekking poles (using my back muscles) much more than my tired quads. I alternated between this and my normal stride and kept my eye on the prize. I relied on my teammates for encouragement and support and I gave the same thing back. On top of that, we had reached a place in our journey where turning back would just be disappointment – we were all in.

Leadership is the same way. It can help to divide up a long journey or task into smaller ones but ultimately growing into a strong leader is a marathon more than a sprint. We need to rely on our teammates and help those around us. We need to vary our techniques; the terrain changes as we grow. We need to think well on the fly. Most importantly of all – I’d argue – we need to possess the audacity and determination to make it to the top of the mountain of what we set out to do.

We made it to the top and I can guarantee you that the incredible summit view was worth the hell we endured. We were tired, dehydrated, and cold – but the whole hike down the mountain, we talked about the next larger mountain we could summit. Our collective bar was raised – and we still talk about this hike 2 years later.

What’s your Iron Mountain going to be?

What tools will you bring?

Who will come with you?

You can read more of Matthew’s reflections on leadership, and climbing the mountain, at his website, BeyondthePinnacle.com, or follow him on Twitter at @BeyondPinnacle.

[Image by Lachlan Hardy]

Depth stops me in my tracks.

There are people who seek experiences of depth. Some people meditate and some people go skydiving. They look for ways to connect with the Depth all around us and draw it into their everyday lives. Some people take pilgrimages to “thin” places, where there is very little boundary between the deeply sacred and the everyday. Some people read books about Depth, and some people work hard to let go of the things that distract them from Depth.

I have sought Depth for as long as I can remember. I have tried many approaches, sometimes acquiring and sometimes letting go. Many people and places, books and images, sights and sounds and flavors have helped me recognize and appreciate the Depth all around us.

I have not arrived; my journey continues.

I seek depth by listening, to other people, to myself, to silence. I take walks. Sometimes I seek depth by sitting with a computer and trying to write.

Depth is sometimes most powerfully clear when I am not really seeking it. Sometimes Depth makes itself known while I am doing something else.

Whether I am intentionally looking for Depth or not, it always affects me. I tend to forget the things I learn or read about Depth, and it reminds me of what I have already experienced. Depth stops me, gets my attention, and leaves me standing still.

Depth has a way of sorting out my priorities. No matter what else I have planned, deeper is more important. I may be headed in a determined direction when Depth reminds me and brings me to a halt.

Depth invites me to create room to go deeper.

Do you seek Depth, or does it get your attention?

How have you experienced the Depth around you?

[Image by Nana B Agyei]

I come into focus one pixel at a time.

One of the first things I do each morning is reach for my glasses. The brightness of the light hits me in the face, and I open each eye separately. Objects come into focus one at a time. Slowly, the familiar distinguishes itself from the comforting gloom. Patterns begin to emerge.

I have been taught to approach life in general the same way I approach each new day. I break things down, analyzing and thinking about one thing at a time. I focus my concentration on each bit of information. I get to the point where I understand, then I add the next bit.

Is life a puzzle we solve one piece at a time? Is the big picture only helpful in seeing where each piece fits?

The benefit, and the cost, of strong focus is that it differentiates each individual piece. Focus gives us the perception of understanding and control. We give ourselves opportunities to spend time and attention becoming comfortable with each tiny bit. Our eyes, and our minds, become accustomed to each new day, and we see familiar patterns.

I take comfort when things come into focus, and enjoy the stimulation of paying attention. I like the sense that I am beginning to master a subject. I cannot help but wonder, at times, about the differences between being familiar with information and really knowing anything about it.

Even as my eyes adjust each morning and I see my everyday world, I begin to question just how much of it I really understand.

It may be that understanding does not come from analysis, that probing one pixel cannot give us the big picture.

How are you bringing things into focus?

Where does the familiar begin to emerge today?

[Image by Jared Tarbell]

We are proud of the ways our leadership drains us.

We have such important responsibilities, we are the indispensable piece that holds everything together, without us everything would fall apart. If we were to take a vacation, or even a break, they might never recover.

Yet, the leaders who inspire me are refreshing.

It is not only their bubbly, sparkling personalities.

Their leadership refreshes themselves.

The leaders who inspire me do not lead because someone else has told them they are leaders, or given them a leadership title. They lead by listening, reflecting, and translating their core values and vision into meaningful, measurable action. Their goals are not imposed on them, but describe how they practice being their deepest selves.

The leaders who inspire me craft ways each day to become the leaders they have the potential to be.

Their leadership refreshes the people around them.

As the leaders who inspire me share their truest selves with the people around them, they bring out the best in other people. They recognize how they share core values with other people, and appreciate how that sharing makes the work they do together more powerful.

They know themselves well enough to see that each person makes a unique contribution to a group effort, and to help each person do their best work.

Their leadership refreshes the organizations in which they lead.

The leaders who inspire me demonstrate that we learn from each other. They lead in ways that create opportunities to gain and grow, and provide examples for the organizations in which they lead.

They appreciate how essential it is that our own values connect with the values of the organizations in which we lead. They understand, clarify, and share those values, helping people work together to put them into practice.

How refreshing is your leadership?

What will you do to refresh yourself today?

[Image by Nina Matthews]

We live our lives surrounded by an ocean of deep truths.

There are times when the Depth and the truths intimidate us, and we hide from them. We distract ourselves by trying to show how important we are and what we have achieved on our own. We distract ourselves with things, toys, exotic experiences and complicated relationships. We distract ourselves, but the deep truths remain. The truth is there in the Depth, in the silence, even when we do not listen.

There are times when we pause and breathe the truth in, listening to hear what it has to tell us. We are drawn to the Depth and the silence, and the truths wash over us. Some truths lift us up  and help us appreciate who we are meant to become. Some truths are bitter, reminding us of all that we are capable of doing.

I do not want to hear all of the deep truths around me. There are hard truths for which I do not want to listen; I fear what they have to tell me, or am anxious about what I hear them saying about me. I am overwhelmed by the vast, deep ocean of truth and believe I will be swept away on the next tide. It feels like I am trying to push the ocean back with a broken spoon.

The ocean may not feel safe to me, but the deep truths it has to share are still true. I will not hear the truths unless I am willing to listen.

I listen because the hard truths remain true even after the distractions are faded.

We live our lives surrounded by an ocean of deep truths.

How do you listen to the truths that the Depth has for you?

What are the deep truths you are listening to about yourself today?

[Image by AlicePopkorn]

Growing up in the Midwest, health was a matter of what we could endure.

We were healthy because we made it through a long cold winter, which builds character. As long as we did not break any bones or bleed very much, we were healthy. We were breathing, and we could keep going.

Now I live in Southern California, where we measure health differently. Traditional and nontraditional, Eastern and Western; we have a wide variety of health we can choose. Physical, emotional, mental, financial, spiritual health; we keep track of our health statistics. Our health is about our numbers and the direction in which they are trending.

No matter where we live, we often view health as something we accomplish, or even earn. If we spend enough time focusing on the right things in the right way, we will be healthy. It is as if we get so many points for each time we do something right and lose points for each time we do something wrong. Health is a bargain that we negotiate, a quid pro quo. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

We do not live and behave in certain ways to deserve health. Our practices are most often the results of our being healthy, not the causes of it.

One of the reasons we focus on health so much is that it is outside our control. We can do things to help strengthen our health; we cannot determine whether or not we are, or will remain, healthy. We do not accumulate points for eating wisely and exercising that we can cash in to stay physically healthy. People who exercise and eat well get sick, too.

How do you measure your health?

What will you do to focus on your health today?

[Image by Micky **]

Leadership is learning to dance.

Leaders develop a sense of the rhythms of life. They get all the partners making the right moves at the right time, choreographing controlled beauty. They glide across the floor, or they fly through the air, hands and feet working together to produce athletic artistry.

Some people lead like ballet, with clearly prescribed steps in specific patterns. Others lead with more abandon, giving each dancer the freedom to showcase their own moves. Some lead in ways that appear to be improvised, but reveal intense preparation and hours of practice.

Leadership is not marching, with each dancer is lockstep, nor is it disorganized chaos. The leaders who inspire me create opportunities for people to listen and creatively put the music of their core values into action, dancing with each other.

Dancing exists only in the present moment. It cannot be repeated or recreated. We can dance again, but we cannot do the same dance. We can learn from our mistakes, and we can try new things, but each dance is different.

When we dance, we dance with all of ourselves. Our arms and legs, our hearts and minds, we dance with all we have. Just like leadership.

We may begin tentatively, gaining solid footing. We develop our own moves. We learn what we can do, and what we need help to do. Dancing with some people is more enjoyable than with others. We learn to recognize and appreciate the beauty of when we are really dancing.

There are times when we dance for joy, and there are times when we dance trying to go faster.

Learning to dance is not only learning the steps, it is becoming comfortable with the moves.

May I have this dance?

Are you dancing to celebrate, or dancing to catch up?

[Image by ausiegall]

We pause for a moment to remember places where the Depth has flooded our lives, times when we realized its immensity and power.

We remember where we were when we first learned it had happened; the first time, or the first in a long time, that we knew.

The details are important mileposts in our stories. The light had a certain quality. We were listening to that song. I remember the smell of lavender, or a wood fire, or freshly baked bread. That taste always reminds me. Our present moment rests on a foundation of deep moments that have shaped us.

For me, it is the people who are the most important reminders.

I remember the kindness of the retired teacher who lived next door and helped me learn how to read. I remember the texture of the sofa we shared, as well as the sound of her voice, many years later, on day I finished law school.

I remember the people who were able to see more in me than I could see in myself, and those who have challenged me to become more. I remember how Depth overwhelmed me on long walks with good friends who were patient in my struggles. I remember the people who comforted me with their presence in difficult, painful times.

Each of us has people to remember with gratitude for reminding us of the Depth that is all around us. We remember parents and friends, partners and teachers, children and leaders.

We set aside this weekend to pause for a moment and remember the deep places and times that have shaped us, and the people who help us remember.

Who reminds you of the deep times and places you have shared?

Whose stories include time with you as a milepost of depth?

[Image by paul bica]