Charles Gupton

Charles Gupton

Holding the Focus Still

Holding focus on one spot will create a fire within seconds. Moving it around leaves you with a pile of sticks.

In my previous post I talked about the struggle of sticking with new behaviors and the need for accountability from people who have some skin in the game with you.

One of the primary behaviors I need to focus on is simply that. To focus.

With so many distractions and too many great – much less the really good – opportunities that come across our paths every day, staying on task with the matters that allow us to have an impact seems to be an almost insurmountable challenge – hey, did someone just ‘like’ my Facebook post???

I need to narrow my options and field of view.

I was having coffee with my friend – and very strategic thinker – Karin Wiberg sometime back and lamented my lack of headway in a number of areas of my life. She calmly and thoughtfully started asking me about the various activities and commitments I was enmeshed in. And how each was contributing to my overarching goals. 

Since then I have continued to question each activity before I commit. There have been several times I’ve cut an event that I later regretted as part of learning where the boundaries need to be set. As a victim of ‘iwanna know-itus’ and FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), it’s been, and continues to be, a very difficult process of being deliberate in my choices. 

The image that comes to mind when I think of focus is of a magnifying glass being held over a stack of kindling. If the glass is held firmly in place but out of focus you’ll have no fire. Conversely, if it is held in sharp focus but moved constantly, you’re still gonna get no flame. But harness the power of the sun through that glass on one spot for a few seconds my friend and you’ve got yourself some heat you can cook with.

Charles

 

Three Words. One Year. New Communities.

 

Have you ever started something and then had difficulty sticking with it for the long haul? 

Several years ago, after reading a blog post by Chris Brogan, I decided to give his “three words” exercise a shot. You can see one here and another here.

Illustration of my three words by Mike Davenport.

As with so many attempts at trying new behaviors, I failed to not only stay focused on my guiding words, I couldn’t even remember what they were just a few weeks after completing my deep deliberation and engraving them into my calendar. Undaunted, I made the attempt again the next year, with similar results.

I believe the primary reason I didn’t stick with my resolve was my lack of support and accountability. I either tried to go it alone, as I often do, or else I asked for accountability from people who didn’t share my aspirations or zeal.

Getting encouragement is simply different when you’re receiving it from someone who has some “skin” in the game. Too often, I hear people talk about their dreams/goals/vision for their better selves. But they do little to put opportunities in place to actually accomplish them. Asking someone who’s already given up on their own weight-loss regimen to then encourage you to stick with yours ain’t likely to lead to a successful result.

This time around, I decided to seek my encouragement from an online community of people that Chris established who were walking the same trail. Although our goals and passions are varied, the purpose of each is to reach their individual destination.

For me, the purpose of the Brave group was to get some initial encouragement from Chris and others in the form of seeing their struggles and how they’re doing battle with their particular obstacles. But the ongoing process of encouraging others and seeing them move into and through their roadblocks helps me as I clear my own.

Throughout this year, I’ve extended my participation into several additional online communities, each with its own set of interests and pursuits. What I already knew in concept – but have watched play out repeatedly this year – is that web-based interactions call for many of the same commitments that face-to-face relationships require.

If you want a community to both grow and create a place within it to grow yourself, you must make a commitment to participate. Most people who participate do so because they want feedback and encouragement, but when they get busy, they often neglect giving those things back to others. It’s something I have been guilty of far more times than I want to admit, even to myself.

But having the community, as imperfect as it may be, to act as a cheering squad in the early stages of a new effort, and then give “shout outs” as you make progress, is priceless. I appreciate when someone has a hope that a plan will pan out. But having a structure and relationships that support it can have a far greater impact on it coming to fruition.

For too long, I have looked to build community with people based on proximity. I fought the concept of building a web of connection on the web. Although I’d prefer to have some opportunity for face-time with the web-based relationships, I trust that in time some of that will occur as well. In the meantime, the virtual relationships I’ve developed are feeding my resolve and giving me some of the support I was lacking in my previous, more solitary attempts at following through on my three words.

As for the three words I used to stimulate my growth for 2013, they were, focus, ask, and process. More to come on each in the following posts. 

How ‘bout you? What do you need to further your vision? Is there any way that I could encourage your journey?

Charles

 

 

Power of Following Up

Thirty years ago as I was trying to get a significant break into the editorial market, I would visit New York a couple of times a year and schlep my portfolio around from one magazine to the next. Knowing that I was one in a million photographers rapping on the picture editors’ doors each week, I figured I needed to do something to keep myself as close to top of mind as possible.

At the time, I was hard pressed  to afford more than two trips a year, but I knew I had persistence, a telephone, and the postal system at my disposal. So I used them.

I picked a small number of picture editors that I particularly wanted to work with, and every month or two I sent a post card or left a phone message reminding them that I was interested in the opportunity to work with them.

Although it took a few years, I eventually developed a working relationship with most of the editors on my list. I remember one in particular saying when she phoned to assign me a story: “I bet you’re thinking, ‘I thought she’d never call me!’, but I did call because of your tenacity.” I nearly dropped the phone.

The lesson stuck with me.

It doesn’t seam like such a big idea. But the power of consistent, gentle follow up to let someone know you’re interested in working together can have a powerful impact.

Charles 

Honoring the Process of Process

Have you ever been severely constipated, your bowels aching to relieve themselves of the blockage? All you want to do is move along with your day but your intestines won’t cooperate.

Writing is often like that for me.

I’ve just spent the last two hours straining to push words out of my brain into a book project that I’m working on.  And much of what has come out appears to my eye to be crap. But I continue to strain. Why?

I am excruciatingly, slowly teaching myself to honor the process of the process.

Calling myself a writer doesn’t make me a writer. I’m only a writer when I’m writing, not talking about writing. Doing the writing makes me a writer.

I have been a professional photographer for 35 years. But several years ago, in one of the deepest dips of the recession, I realized that I’d not shot one picture in a nearly six-month period. What I had done during that time period was go to networking events, business classes, sales presentation appointments, and anywhere else I could to shake up an opportunity for paid work. But I had not, during that time, picked up a camera.

My attitude sucked and my energy was flagging.

If we are what we do, then I was an unpaid networker. But I was NOT a photographer. I had not honored the process of feeding my heart or keeping my skills sharpened.

I took a week off from all appointments and shot photos. I can’t say they were great images. My vision was rusty and shallow. But the process fed my heart and energized my life.

I realized that I am not an artist and communicator because it’s a glamorous or lucrative way to make a living. I am passionate about telling stories. It is the core of who I am. But to truly be something, I have to do it. It is action that creates results, not talk.

It is the same with writing. It is a process. What I’ve discovered is that the most critical part of developing a process is to honor the process.

What I want, when I sit down to write, is for the words to flow out of me like a tap. If you’ve ever written, you know that’s not how it goes. But I’ve also learned that honoring the process of writing does cause the words to flow. A lot of the process of writing is fighting back the ‘voice’ of doubt and recrimination that whispers ‘Who would ever want to read anything you have to write?’

My job at that moment isn’t to find an answer to justify my time in front of the keyboard. My job at that moment is to write. By trusting the process itself, I eventually fight back the ‘voice’ and get the words out.

I’ve talked with a lot of people who want to write/paint/photograph, etc., but stall when the process becomes painful. Although there are times when creativity does abound, I don’t think it ever becomes entirely pain free.

That’s when the discipline of honoring the process becomes critical to becoming what your heart screams out to be.

How do you respond to the resistance that inevitably inhibits your personal vision from seeing the light?

 

Charles

 

Suffering a Loss in Your Narrative

We left home last Wednesday with great anticipation for the week ahead. We had two profiles to film as part of an ongoing project and a conference to attend. Both had our creative juices flowing. We were giddy with expectation.

Because we have six cows on pasture and a small flock of chickens – in addition to our dog and two cats – we have to make extra provisions for animal care compared to our urban counterparts. For instance, we know if the cows run low on grass in a pasture, at least one of the steers has an inclination to jump the fence looking for greener opportunities. And a cow getting in the road is a car wreck and a multi-million dollar lawsuit just waiting to happen.

As we rolled down the drive, I glanced over at the layer flock with a passing thought: “I hope today’s rain doesn’t cause the chickens’ electric fence net to sag over.” We were running about 30 minutes past our planned departure with a set time to meet one of our interviewees in Knoxville. I reassured my internal alarm with the knowledge that our neighbors were watching over our animals. And anyway, we can’t stay home and be on the road doing our work, so we had to get going.

Feathers remain caught in the electric net for days after the attack of wandering dogs.

There are times you don’t want your caller ID to show a friendly face. Friday morning at 6:11 was one of them.

Our flock of 23 layers had been decimated by a pack of dogs overnight.

When a pack of domestic dogs attacks, it’s for “fun” and it’s a bloody mess. Although several were dead, many had to be put down because they were still living but too torn up to survive. Four birds survived and we hope they’ll heal and be capable of laying eggs again.

While we grieve for the chickens – and the great eggs! – we’ve lost, the fear that so quickly escalates is the vulnerability we feel to spiritual and emotional attack when we are most open to pursuing our hearts’ desires for adventure and doing the work that, we believe, has the greatest impact.

The irony is that, at our core, we understand that our lives need to be vulnerable if we’re going to do anything that has meaning or makes a difference in the world. The higher the stakes, the more exciting the game becomes.

Most people say they want an interesting life. But most people don’t want any of their own skin in the game. It’s great to be a raving, lunatic fan of your favorite sports team, but that’s a far cry from putting yourself on the field of play.

As we got the heart-kicking news of the dog attack, we were getting ready to head to the Storyline conference we were in Nashville to attend. My first reaction was that of the angry victim – “Why did this have to happen while we’re so far from home and so out of control?”  But when are we ever really in control?

In the moment, I had to stop the questions of doubt and accusation in my mind and replace them with statements of fact about what I could and could not do. There is action I can take that will minimize our loss but I can never eliminate the possibility of disaster.

The most important decision we each made in the moment was to not allow a fog of anger and fear to settle in our hearts. We decided to accept the pain and move into the day with excitement and the anticipation that learning and being challenged held for us. I didn’t try to ignore my grief. But I didn’t allow it to frame my days either.

There are going to be attacks and losses in our lives regardless of what we do. But if we don’t embrace them as part of a greater narrative and push through them to a redeeming conclusion – if we allow the attacks to define us rather than us define them – then of what real value is the struggle?

Charles