Sharing Your Vision Clearly, Creatively, and Continuously
You leave work late and head to the golf course for a quick round of twilight -- to settle your nerves after a busy day at the office. Its just you and the course. On the fifth hole, a par three, you hit a shot and know immediately that it is a great shot. Everything about it feels right. You watch as the ball hits the green and moves with impressive momentum toward the cup. Your ball slows as it edges closer to that tiny hole on the green -- you know it is going to be close. Then it happens. The ball drops in the cup. You've just hit a hole in one -- something you've imagined your entire life. You jump for joy -- and then realize it - you’re alone. Not one soul has witnessed your hole-in-one!
Like a hole in one on the golf course, your vision will become more “real” if you share it with others.
What does it mean to reveal your vision to others? According to Lesson #2, the vision must be shared clearly, creatively, and continually while masterminding with others to make it a reality.
Let’s examine each element of that lesson. First, you must be clear. In order to communicate your vision to others, you must know how to “speak the language of the others.” For instance, giving instructions to a five-year old is different than giving instruction to an adult. When you communicate your vision clearly, consider your audience and use the language and symbols that will mean most to them.
Second, you must communicate our vision creatively. Great leaders know that words alone are not enough to communicate vision. Actions speak louder than words. Former CEO of Southwest Airlines, Herb Kelleher, knew this lesson well. Not only did Kelleher talk about his love for his company and its people – he acted on his words by displaying affection and care toward his employees and customers. The communication of vision can come in the form of words, but actions and other symbols also convey the vision in a powerful manner.
Third, your vision must be continuously communicated. You must become obsessed with your vision and communicate that obsession to others. People pay attention to obsessions. Say it, write it, act it – over and over again.
Fourth, mastermind with others. Energy that is enslaved is wasted energy. Synergistic solutions emerge from interactions and work with others. Share your vision with others and see how freely the energy flows.
Henry David Thoreau said: "I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor." Our ability to create a vision and have a mental picture of our future is a characteristic that is uniquely human. Yet many of us are hesitant to share our vision. Don’t waste this opportunity. Get out there and share your vision clearly, creatively, continually, while you mastermind with others to make your vision a reality.
Memoir Sample
My audacious independence and a strong sense of justice reared its head early in my life when I was accused of pre-meditating the murder of my neighbor, Roberta Bigbus. I was in third grade.
I loved third grade because my teacher, Miss Allen, was the best. She had red hair and wore reddish-orange nail polish on her long nails. She was a large woman – buxom – would be the word to describe her. But her physical size was only part of her greatness. Most important, her personality was big and she could make me feel special for the oddest things.
When I couldn’t write the cursive “L” in my name correctly, she told me how lucky I was to have the most beautify letter in the alphabet as the first letter of my last name. I stood close by her as she sat at her desk and drew for me the most beautiful “L” I had ever seen. She said, “Make your “L’s” like this. To this day, I think of her when I sign a check or credit card receipt. She made me feel special simply for having a last name that started with “L.”
The Mrs. Bigbus incident happened that school year -- when I was in Miss Allen's class. I was a latch key kid and was well trained on when to leave for school. So on this particular day, I left my house at 8:40. I loved my latchkey days because I had the freedom to exert my independence. It felt good to be responsible for me.
As I wandered my way down the sidewalk across the street from my house, I apparently stepped on some of Roberta Bigbus’s new grass – the seed kind where the little pathetic blades that look like they have little chance of making it through a Florida winter, much less a Wisconsin winter -- emerge. As one who found the imaginary world much more interesting than the real world, I am certain I was day-dreaming and had only a vague notion of where I was walking. So, in the interest of transparency, I must confess that I probably was walking on her new grass.
Of course I didn’t see Roberta watching me -- because I didn't really see anything -- off in my imaginary world and all. So suddenly, and without any warning, Roberta threw open the door and yelled at me about my grass violation.
I was a sensitive kid and did not like to be yelled at – especially when I was on the way to school. She had a right to be distressed about the grass, but her response was disproportionate to my crime.
It was unfair of her to yell at me that way. It was, I yelled to my imaginary friend the justice keeper, an injustice! I had only stepped on her grass!
Even though she had hurt my feelings by yelling at me, I didn’t cry. But, I was mad. I learned when I was six that mad was much easier than sad (more on that later).
By the time I had walked the four blocks to school, I was in a full-blown stew. It was then that I saw Ronnie Bigbus, Roberta’s son. He was my age, and was a mean little kid. I don’t know what he said to me (probably something rude), but I responded to him by saying, “I’m so mad at your mother, I could kill her.”
My encounter with two Bigbus’s in one morning was more than I could take. I was upset. I suppose many kids would have sought solace from a teacher or friend, but I found comfort in isolation. So, I decided I didn’t want to go to school. I turned around and went home – making sure to avoid Roberta Bigbus’s grass on the way.
Well, Ronnie Bigbus wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree, as they say. When I failed to show up at school, my teacher asked if anyone had seen me. Ronnie Bigbus offered up that I had gone to kill his mother. . .
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