What do marriage counseling and dog training have in common? Everyone has a psychology.

No. It’s not that human and canine psychology have anything in common. No. It’s not that there are ways to train a spouse just as there are ways to train a dog.

It’s that if you want to be understood by either a dog or a person, you have to understand what makes the other party tick.

In this week’s chapter of What the Dog Saw, Gladwell explores the world of The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan. While the stories of Millan’s various encounters with dogs and their owners were entertaining, it was the story of Millan and his wife’s marriage counseling where the insights began emerging for me.

How easy it is to function solely out of our own frame of reference. We strive to communicate our desires, requests and demands of those with whom we live and work as clearly, plainly and directly as we can.

What about the frame of reference out of which we’re being heard, though? What about the needs, desires and stories of those listening? An assignment that on an ordinary day at work might be received with a respectful nod of assent, on a stressful day—where the employee in question is already juggling more projects than they can handle and just got off the phone with a belligerent and unreasonable client—might be met with the furious and self-protective rebuff/attack of a wounded animal backed into a corner.

If we want to make things happen that involve other people, we do not have absolute control over the process. To the extent that we understand from where the others involved are coming and what their needs and desires are, we can adjust our communication strategy accordingly and exert far more influence over the outcome than otherwise expected.

How do you learn and gauge how you are being understood by others? What was your main take-away from this chapter?

Each week I post my reflections from one chapter of What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

Science, while purportedly the objective study of what is natural, is by its very structure anything but.

Yosemite Falls plummets 2,420 feet in a series of seven parts. What you observe about Yosemite Falls depends entirely on whether you are standing at the bottom, the top, near the middle cascades or on the other side of the valley.

That these various observations are different from each other, (for example, from the bottom you would not know that any middle cascades existed), would not make any one of them inaccurate. But if you based your climbing plans on that one perspective—however accurate it might be—you would draw incorrect conclusions about how best to reach the top.

That science takes its observations from particular and possibly limited perspectives, means that its findings don’t form the necessarily adequate basis for the conclusions we draw and/or the subsequent courses of action we choose.

Hence the fascinating story that looking back with 20/20 hindsight at the conclusions about whether the birth control pill was a natural or unnatural contribution makes.

Viewed from the “bottom of the falls,” as a means to prevent ovulation (the natural process being observed from this perspective), the birth control pill has been opposed by the Catholic church, in Gladstone’s example, as unnatural.

But if upon its introduction the pill was viewed from the “top of the falls,” so to speak, as a means to help women’s bodies menstruate on a more “natural” cycle, i.e. less frequently, there may have been no opposition. Instead of opposing something unnatural, quite possible the Church might have been quite willing to support something that supported the health and well-being of women everywhere.

Same pill. All science. But limited information seen from different perspectives led to different conclusions. So much for the objectivity of science. All we can do is wonder what might have been if the information was presented the other way around.

What was your main take-away from this chapter? Where might you be basing decisions on a limited perspective?

Each week I post my reflections from one chapter of What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

What seems obvious to some is not obvious to everyone. What is a common perception in one generation can seem anachronistic to the next or revolutionary to the prior.

In those moments in between, when something new is emerging, those with a stake in the status quo can find themselves inadvertently blinded by that stake.

They need the world to stay the same in order to continue functioning as they have, succeeding where they have, and/or exerting power to the extent they have.

In Chapter #4, Gladwell tells stories of two women who were able to articulate the emerging public perception before either most women or the predominately male leadership of their companies did. The respective ad campaigns were hugely successful for both the many women who may otherwise never have considered coloring their hair, and for their firms who made a fortune.

Just as interesting, though, is that these campaigns were very different from each other. They were different because the perceptions of one generation are not necessarily shared by the next. The language which communicated beauty and value in one time does not necessarily translate to all times.

Hence, the need for awareness of people’s perceptions. Awareness to our own perceptions. Blindness to the values, perspectives, mores, ethics, feelings, needs and anything else that contributes to how people perceive reality is the ultimate Achilles heal in these fast-paced times of ours.

How can you increase your awareness of both your own perceptions and the perceptions of others as they relate to what you are trying to accomplish?

What was your main take-away from Chapter 4?

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

Chapter 3, entitled “Blowing Up,” was worth the price of the book. After lukewarmly enjoying the first two chapters, (and who really enjoys anything lukewarm?), I find myself in self-reflection heaven.

What if a common cultural assumption were wrong?

What if you’d been evaluating your own ideas, actions, successes and/or failures against this fallacious standard?

“We associate the willingness to risk great failure—and the ability to climb back from catastrophe—with courage.” (p. 75)

What if, in fact, though…

“There is more courage and heroism in defying the human impulse, in taking the purposeful and painful steps to prepare for the unimaginable.” (p. 75)

Ouch. And then, after recovering from the unexpected punch below the belt, the relief of being released from a very restrictive prison system. (more…)

“Three of these shapes are the same and one is different.”

Sounds like a scene from Sesame Street, doesn’t it?

Most of us learn early on to distinguish between what is the same and what is different. What is common and what is distinct. What is universal and what is diverse.

While we have this capacity to distinguish same and different, our assumptions about where and when it would behoove us to make the observation can let us down.

Hence this week’s Gladwell chapter about the universal nature of ketchup catches us off guard.

When the mustard people and spaghetti sauce folk let go of their respective assumptions that they needed to create the universal best version for all people, they hit the jackpot. People preferred their distinct preference, whether it was brown mustard or chunky sauce.

Sometimes we want the same thing as each other. Sometimes we want something quite different.

The key is having our eyes open for either possibility—or even another, completely unexpected possibility altogether.

It was a paradigm buster to realize that people wanted diversity in their mustards and spaghetti sauces. This new frame of reference was itself broken to make room for the possibility that people didn’t actually need or want diversity in their ketchups at all.

Are you open to the possibility that the next alternative might not emerge from the current options? Think about it.

What was your main take-away from this chapter?

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

We’re making a mistake. I’m making a mistake. A big fat ol’ gnarly mistake.

Our mistake is to think our professional story is about us. My mistake is to think that my professional story is about me.

My skills, my resume, my experience, my competence, my insights, my ideas, my appearance, my efforts. If only I were more aggressive. If only I were better connected. If only I were more organized. If only I were less like me and more like so-and-so (insert name of who you are measuring yourself against here), I’d be more successful.

Success, though, is not about me. Success is about you. “You” being the others in the equation, in your market, your circles, your family.

Or so we glean in Gladwell’s first chapter of What the Dog Saw. What the other person is trying to accomplish. Where they are trying to go. What they need. What they feel. What they want.

Success, so to speak, is in understanding the other person’s story and being able to articulate how you, your product or your services enhance and belong within that story.

The power of Ron Popeil’s story lies in his making his products understandable to people. The products were the star of his sales efforts not him. When people saw Popeil’s kitchen gadgets, they saw themselves.

At first read, I must admit I wasn’t inspired by this first story of Gladwell’s book. “This is sure a lot of verbiage dedicated to the eccentric hawking techniques of a niche salesperson.”

But the more I reflect, I am taken by Popeil’s freedom to get out of the way as he introduced people to his products. As with any successful matchmaking, the matchmaker cannot remain in the middle of the relationship if the relationship is to succeed.

What sort of matchmaker are you? Matching your services to customers needs. Matching your parenting to your children’s development needs. Is the subject what you do or what your customers are trying to do? Your authority being respected or your child’s well-being being enhanced?

What do you think? What was your main take-away from this chapter?

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. Join the discussion now, and contribute your thoughts, reactions and insights here! Catch up on the entire series here.

I just picked up a copy of Malcolm Gladwell’s new book, What the Dog Saw and Other Adventures. I grabbed it the minute I saw it. The very second, in fact. Those around me wisely waited while I examined every copy for flaws. Cradling my perfect baby, I made a beeline to the cashier.

It wasn’t until I got it home that I realized it’s not a new work at all. It’s a collection of his New Yorker articles. The best in his view.

After I recovered from this brief moment of disappointment (not a big fan of the recompiling for a second round at the till marketing strategy)(I’d probably be singing a different tune if I ever experienced a first round at the till), I realized that the only part of the New Yorker I’ve ever read are the cartoons. So I’m sitting here with all “new” material.

I love this guy’s work. The preface alone has me fully engaged. Understanding what’s going on in someone else’s head.

There are three main themes/sections:

1. Obsessives, Pioneers, and Other Varieties of Minor Genius
2. Theories, Predictions, and Diagnoses
3. Personality, Character, and Intelligence

Of course I can’t read something so fun by myself. This is the stuff of incredulity and hilarity, insights and further reflection.

So read with me. We’ll take it a chapter at a time. We’ll meet here and share impressions, reactions and our own takes.

I’ve got Amazon links scattered throughout this post. Grab your copy now. We’re going to begin right away.

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

Lots to chew on in this chapter.

Being willing to face reality and deal with the facts on the ground is an important skill. A skill I’d say I either already have or am very open to enhancing.

BUT… Cloud then goes and makes a distinction between being someone who actively searches out what reality is, and one who faces reality passively, as it presents itself.

Talk about a punch to the gut! Suddenly I’m not so sure. Being open to face the facts and turning the house upside down in order to uncover the facts are two very different stances. I don’t think I can lay claim to the second. That hurts. Give me a second to nurse my bruised ego.

Ok, let’s keep going. I find Cloud’s question helpful, “Do I consider reality my friend?” If I don’t… if reality can harm me, diminish me, or discourage me, I am much less motivated to seek it out. If reality is my friend, however painful, I don’t have to protect myself from it. Instead of seeking out reality requiring heroic amounts of courage, it becomes intrinsically trustworthy and continuously welcome.

Insightful here is the built-in protection being a seeker of reality provides against blindness. The horrible thing about blindness is when we don’t know that we’re blind. Horrible in the personal sense that I find the possibility terrifying. Few things frighten me more than not being aware of what I am not aware of.

Only the passive person needs to be afraid, though. Once I become an active seeker out of reality, then I am doing everything I can to get in touch and stay in touch with the facts on the ground. The combination of the active approach and the welcoming stance means that I’m at minimal risk of simply missing out or inadvertently blocking out important information.

Where do you find yourself on the spectrum between actively seeking and passively receiving reality? What do you think about the assertion that reality is our friend?

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of Integrity: The Courage to Meet the Demands of Reality by Henry Cloud. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

“Reality is always your friend,” asserts Henry Cloud in this week’s chapter.

Reality can feel like an enemy intruder, though, when it is difficult. Complicated. Painful. Embarrassing. When it means facing up to a mistake, starting over, making amends, reversing direction, etc.

Somewhere in all that mess—but not uncommon to such messes—some of us come to believe, maybe come to hope, that all those consequences can be avoided if only the truth didn’t come out.

The challenge in this chapter comes from Cloud’s conviction that it’s the leaders who face reality (whatever its implications) rather than those who finesse reality who are most effective in the long run. We aren’t necessarily bad people for playing light and fast with the truth. But we are going to find that our efforts are not addressing that which is core to what is actually happening on the ground. We may feel less stress, fear or frustration, but we won’t be moving to a sounder, safer, more smooth functioning place.

My second take-away from this chapter has to do with avoiding blind spots. Or, more to the point, becoming the type of person who doesn’t easily develop blind spots. I don’t know about you, but this is a super attractive image to me.

There is a certain courage involved in being willing to see that which is difficult. There is a certain centeredness about one’s own well-being that isn’t threatened by information that could be painful. It’s a health that is attractive to me, a strength that draws, a peace which is inviting.

I guess that makes the question of the hour for me, can I face honestly how far away from this aspect of leadership health I currently stand?

Where do you find yourself finessing reality instead of facing it squarely?

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of Integrity: The Courage to Meet the Demands of Reality by Henry Cloud. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.

Leaders are people too.

Sounds obvious, but many of us come across as if we have it all together, know everything and are always more competent that everyone who is unfortunate enough to be below us on the organizational chart.

But that facade has two problems. One is that it is, in fact, not true. The other is that everyone who works for you knows it.

Being too strong is as much a credibility destroyer as being too weak.

What do you think about Cloud’s assertion this week? Is there power in being real?

His main example, though effective, came from childhood. I would have appreciated something from the workplace. I’m already a believer in vulnerable leadership models, but only up to a point.

There’s a risk in undermining one’s effectiveness with “too much information” sorts of personal revelation. Knowing what’s appropriate and relevant to share about oneself is key to vulnerability serving as a trust builder rather than a trust buster.

Vulnerability is a risk worth taking. Remember, the goal is for your team to come alive and voluntarily choose to invest deeply and energetically in their work. You cannot command or force that sort of effort.

Cloud is pointing out that when people believe that you can relate to their challenges, they will be far more responsive to how you challenge them.

Have you ever had a supervisor for whom you would try to move mountains if you could? What were characteristics of that person that we might learn from?

Each Friday I post my reflections from one chapter of Integrity: The Courage to Meet the Demands of Reality by Henry Cloud. If you are just joining the discussion now, welcome! Catch up on the entire series here.