Authenticity. There isn’t much of it out there these days. Maybe there is among the animals who don’t know anything else. They never learned how to fake it. Increasingly, we humans are faced with fake almost-everything: fake news, fake images, fake claims. Artificial intelligence is only compounding the problem.

And yet, authenticity remains a popular idea. It’s written about in books by famous leaders (e.g., Bill George, former CEO of Medtronic), called for by employees who want to make a strong connection with their bosses and coworkers, advertised by jeans makers (Wrangler is “genuine”), and immortalized by soda companies (Coke: “The Real Thing”). It’s easier to promote it than to live it.

Being authentic in one’s self isn’t always a simple task. It takes insight, courage, honesty, and more – a sometimes inexplicable urge to simply be true to who you are, to the man or woman in the mirror. Being authentic with others can be even more challenging. Why? Because authentic relationships can lead to vulnerability.

Are you willing to open up to someone – your wife, husband or partner, your son or daughter, your best friend, or the person sitting next to you at the bar – and let your hair down? …

Sometimes, it’s easier to share your true feelings with the person at the bar than with your spouse or partner. It’s safer since you don’t have to be held accountable for your sentiments after you leave.

In our search for authentic relationships, we long for what we often fear: intimacy.

I was on safari in Africa a few years ago, sitting in my tent one afternoon, when my tent mate asked me if I knew what intimacy was all about. Before I could answer, he offered this idea: He said to me that intimacy really means ‘in to me see.’  That insight has stayed with me ever since. For all the dictionary definitions of intimacy, the one my friend proposed speaks volumes, for it is an invitation to share at the level of one’s soul, to “speak” soul to soul, privately, intentionally, courageously.

So, then, can we say that a search for authenticity is really a search for intimacy? And that the bridge between authenticity and intimacy can include vulnerability?

Several years ago, a major newspaper published an article describing an exchange between Jack Welch, the previous CEO of General Electric, and William Harrison, prior Chairman of J.P. Morgan that highlighted the power of authenticity.

“In addition to holding their strategic discussions, the article stated, Mr. Welch and Mr. Harrison spent significant time together honing the executive training program at J.P. Morgan. Mr. Welch was particularly impressed with Mr. Harrison’s use of a group exercise in which senior J.P. Morgan executives, including Mr. Harrison, wrote on a board the personal and professional experiences – the more painful, the better – that helped them evolve as people. “Bill was very good at it,’ Mr. Welch said. ‘It makes you become simpatico with the guy.’”

 In that experience, Mr. Welch and Mr. Harrison bonded; they got “intimate” in a way that most likely led to a more fulfilling and productive relationship. They learned that they could trust one another.

So, at the end of the authenticity trail, lies trust. How can I trust you, if you aren’t going to be real with me? And if I can’t trust you, how can I, if you’re a leader in my company, follow you?

If you’re not going to be authentic, how can I love you?  The question is as pressing for couples, friends, and families as it is for business people.

Authenticity opens to vulnerability, which opens to intimacy, which, finally, opens to trust. If you want people to trust you, you need to be authentic, to be yourself. There’s no easy formula for becoming authentic, or testing whether you are. You can’t ask someone if they think you’re authentic; they really won’t know, even if your eyes are flooded with tears. You’re the only one who knows if you’re being authentic.

Each of us must find his or her own path to authenticity and the road it illuminates. First, though, you need to decide how much authenticity is worth to you. What kind of relationships do you want to have? What kind of person do you want to be? How do you want to show up with the people who matter most to you? How do you want to be remembered?

The animals don’t know anything but authenticity and don’t have to work to get it. The buck in search of a mate is unambiguous in his hunt. The mother bear who protects her cubs at all costs makes no bones about her intentions. Being authentic is an easier path for them than for us. So, are the animals the lucky ones?

I don’t believe so. We are the lucky ones, for in struggling to be authentic, we must struggle with ourselves. In doing so, we become fuller, richer, more valuable individuals to ourselves and to others.

What does authenticity mean to you? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

The post Let’s get real! appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

What is my message? is a question that has an out-sized impact on our lives, even when we aren’t aware of it. We are forced to answer the question in all sorts of ways. It comes up in the essays we write as part of our college applications, where admissions officers strain to figure out which candidates to accept and which to reject. The question raises its head again as we search for jobs after graduation – whether from high school, college, or graduate school – and are faced with the not-so-simple task of expressing who we are on one or two pieces of paper called a resume. 

If you succeed in your job, you come face to face with the question again, as you rise through the ranks to a supervisory, or leadership, position. What is your message, then, to the people who work for you? …

… Not, what tasks do you want them to complete, but, rather, why should they follow you, beyond the fact that you’re their boss? 

The question slips into our lives on more modest levels as well: for instance, at large social gatherings when you are introduced to people for the first time. Or, at intimate dinner parties, when you are one of only a handful of people, who are thrust together for three or four hours and need to figure out how to keep the conversation going. 

In all of these situations, you have a choice. You can try to discern what is important to someone else and tell them what you believe they want to hear. You can supply information you feel is safe and easy for others to digest. Or, you can make a point of finding ways to tell people something about who you are at your core, and risk making yourself vulnerable, if only for a moment. 

The fact is that taking the “safe” route isn’t safe at all. Most people, from college admissions directors and would-be friends, to the people who report to you at work, are searching for signs that give them reason to believe that you are someone with integrity — someone they can trust. 

This is where identity comes into play — those special characteristics that reveal how you create unique value in the world. Your identity is ‘an integrity machine.’ It expresses what makes you the individual you are. It invites people to trust you. 

Hiding what you stand for takes a toll on everyone. It may make it easier for you to navigate business or social relationships that require chameleon-like skills to maintain, but, over time, it erodes your sense of self-worth: you know you’re faking it. Moreover, keeping your true self hidden makes life harder for others by keeping them guessing; off balance, in fact. 

Until I faced an auditorium full of people who were interested in the subject of identity, I had kept my message under wraps, at least publicly. For years, I’d lived under the radar. While working with companies and individuals, I knew who I was, and, certainly, I let my passion for identity show in everything I did. Yet, I never had the courage to stand up and be counted. I had let my writings and my work speak for me. Now, I would speak for myself; I would make my message clear: I am Larry Ackerman and I am driven by the need to help people to see. As I spoke these words in that auditorium that day, I exhaled deeply. I felt completely naked as I stood before my audience, knowing there was no going back. I was finally free. 

Answering the question, what is my message? Is liberating. It frees you from the fear of telling the world who you are and doing what you know you must. It brings the self-confidence to not be deterred by what others may think of you, even in the face of possible rejection. You may also realize that you no longer have a choice: you must take a stand. 

Consider your message a personal declaration — a commitment to follow one path and walk away from others. What makes declarations so powerful is their intent, which, in short, is to remove doubt. It is to make something clear to people that wasn’t clear before. Personal declarations lift the veil of mystery. They state something emphatically about who you are, often, for the first time. 

Your identity is the source of that declaration, the essence of your message. It’s a message the world needs to hear. 

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Sometimes, all of this suffering gets to me, yet I am powerless to alleviate it. It’s too much. Too big. Too far away. Still, to do nothing isn’t an option. I decided a while ago that if I’m not able to lessen suffering on a grand scale, I’d try and do so on a small scale — one person at a time.

One of the unexpected results of writing The Identity Code were readers who asked me whether I could help them realize the promise of the book’s subtitle — to find their purpose and place in the world. I wasn’t coaching at the time, but I decided that I would at least try. I simply had to.

The challenges presented to me varied widely, from people struggling from career angst — unclear about what they should do next — to readers enduring the stresses of faltering personal relationships, Although, these challenges aren’t uncommon in life, what struck me was how each person was — underneath the issue they faced — suffering in their own way. Here are two examples …

Lisa, a 45-year-old lawyer had been with her company for more than 10 years. Professionally speaking, she was clearly successful, having been promoted 4 times and was now the organization’s general counsel. Yet, she was unhappy and, as she told me, tormented by a deep desire to do something else with her life that would provide more personal satisfaction as well as an income. Lisa was stuck and the angst she was feeling was getting in the way of her making progress. She felt she had no choice but to leave her company.

Rory was a 40-year-old Wall Street executive who had recently been laid off. He had made a handsome income, but was in no way well-to-do. His wife, who didn’t work, was divorcing him and had taken their two young children to live with her. Much of Rory’s savings was going to support his family. Rory had been rejected, professionally and personally. He was frightened. He felt paralyzed. Yet he knew he had to find a way to not give up hope; to somehow, “keep going.” 

For these individuals, palpable suffering was getting in the way of living. 

I believe that the worst thing you can do in the name of helping someone move forward is to gloss over their suffering as though it’s not there, or isn’t that important. The next worst thing you can do is to dwell on it. 

In my attempts to relieve suffering in my own small way, here is what I’ve learned and how it might help you or someone you know.

First, quiet the dragons

In Ancient Greek and other mythologies, dragons were fearsome, fire-breathing beasts that stood in the way of people and what they wanted. It’s tough to move forward when a dragon is in your path. It is tough to move forward when you are suffering.

To help someone move forward, start by simply listening, by bearing witness to their pain. Strive to understand their suffering. Let them vent. Have them speak of it, describe it and its impact. Not once, but two or three times, until its’ sting is lessened if not gone. If you can’t slay the dragon, at least quiet it.

Second, unearth your magic

In business today, there is much talk about what one’s “superpower” is — that singular talent that distinguishes you. These can include empathy, systems thinking, creativity, decisiveness, among many other traits. The idea is that if you can put your finger on your superpower, you’ll know how best to contribute to your team or organization. As its name suggests, one’s superpower contains a magic all its own.  

I find the idea of detecting one’s superpower amusing. If there is one superpower that eclipses all others, it is your identity — that unique combination of characteristics that reveals your potential for creating value in the world. Here are three illustrations: 1) to inspire renewal, 2) to create positive history, 3) to help people to see. Each is deceptively simple. Yet, as a framework for making a lasting contribution, each is powerful in its own right.

Third, blaze your trail

With the dragon quieted and your magic clear, it’s time to move forward, to circle back and address the original challenge with new insight and courage. 

Lisa left her role as a corporate attorney, but chose to stay with her company. She was put in charge of leading a merger integration effort that offered her the chance to deal with cultural as well as economic issues.

Rory found a job with a regional bank, has made peace with his ex-wife, and sees his children regularly. 

No storybook endings here. But the suffering that was blocking these individuals’ progress had receded enough to allow them to move on. 

What I have come to understand, is that on the other side of suffering lies freedom — the freedom to grow in ways that benefit others as well as yourself.  

Want to help relieve suffering in the world? Go small. 

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Mortality  

On the day I die a lot will happen. A lot will change.

The world will be busy.

On the day I die, all the important appointments I made will be left unattended.

The many plans I had yet to complete will remain forever undone.

The calendar that ruled so many of my days will now be irrelevant to me.

All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or discard.

The words of my critics which so burdened me will cease to sting or capture anymore. They will be unable to touch me…

The arguments I believed I’d won will not serve me or bring me any satisfaction or solace.

All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls will go unanswered. Their great urgency will be quieted.

My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past, where they should always have been anyway.

Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over; about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.

My carefully crafted image, the one I worked so hard to shape for others, will be left to them to complete.

The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain will be of little concern for me anymore.

All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night will be rendered powerless.

The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before, while I lived.

These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die.

Yet for as much as will happen on that day, one more thing will happen.

On the day I die, the few people who really know and truly love me will grieve deeply.

They will feel a void.

They will feel cheated.

They will not feel ready.

They will feel as though a part of them has died as well.

And on that day, more than anything in the world they will want more time with me.

I know this from those I love and grieve over.

And so knowing this, while I am still alive, I’ll try to remember that my time with them is finite and fleeting and so very precious—and I’ll do my best not to waste a second of it.

I’ll try not to squander a priceless moment, worrying about all the other things that will happen on the day I die, because many of those things are either not my concern or beyond my control.

Friends, those other things have an insidious way of keeping you from living even as you live; vying for your attention, competing for your affections.

They rob you of the joy of this unrepeatable, uncontainable, ever-evaporating ‘Now’ with those who love you and want only to share it with you.

Don’t miss the chance to dance with them while you can.

It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.

Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you’ve been led to believe matters. Because on the day you die—the fact is, that much of it simply won’t.

But before that day comes, let us live.

I tried hard to find out who this David Reed is, but no success. There are many David Reeds out there. If I could identify this man, I would reach out to thank him for his profoundly powerful and exquisitely beautiful insights. 

And, true to his words, I would want to get to know him, so I could count him among the friends who might miss me — or perhaps I, him — when one of us passes, unexpectedly.

Thank you, David Reed. I am moved by your words. Maybe, those who are reading this article, will be too.

The post Thank you, David Reed appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

In the 1999 movie, Analyze This, Billy Chrystal plays a psychiatrist who’s treating a mafia boss.There’s a scene with a meeting of mob bosses, where Billy Chrystal unexpectedly shows up and sits in for his patient. Surprised, one of the other bosses asks him, Who are you? He answers: “Who am I? Who am I? Oh, that’s a question for the ages!” 

Call it cosmic, unknowable, confusing, headache-inducing, or just plain tough to answer, who am I? is a question which has been asked, in various ways, by everyone from great philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle to decidedly not-so-famous people: that jumble of “regular folk” who make their lives in the far-flung cities, towns and villages we call home. Asking the question, who am I? makes kin of us all…

Today, the question has become a cultural lightning rod, touching gender, race, politics and religion among other categories we dip into to help define ourselves and others. None of these categories, however, helps clarify your identity. Instead, they distort its true meaning and power — that to know who you are is to know why you are here, and, in turn, what to do, what not to do, and why.

You might ask yourself, am I not a Jones, a Stern, a Tanaka? – the child of a good family? Am I not a loyal Christian, a pious Jew, a devout Muslim? Am I not American? Or, Turkish? Or Indian? Am I not a successful Black female ballet dancer? At least, a hard-working plumber? Is this not enough? If not, who am I then?

You may be any combination of these things. But none of these descriptions answers the question, who am I? That is because, despite their importance in how you define yourself, these labels serve to mask, rather than reveal, who you are at your core. In short, you are not your labels; you are simply you.

Answering the question, who am I?, brings with it the promise of affirmation – nothing less than the awakening of your spirit. It is no great feat to verify that you exist in physical terms. Your five senses do that for you, automatically. It is something else entirely to experience yourself as self-aware and fully awake.

Experiencing this confirmation of your self is prelude to everything else you will learn and do in relation to your life. Once you have found this feeling, you’ll be ready to discover what makes you unique as an individual and the potential it holds for how you engage with the world.

What’s the way forward?

The way to know who you are is by first defining yourself as separate from all others. Within the context of identity, separation isn’t about being physically or emotionally remote from people – physical separation isn’t especially difficult to achieve and emotional connections are essential for strong relationships.

Separation is about putting some healthy distance between yourself and other people so you can step back and see, really see, yourself within the context of your relationships. How are you different from your best friend, your brother, mother, or your boss, in terms of your personality, your values and talents? Answering these questions is an exercise in clarifying boundaries that mark turf belonging just to you, no matter how close you are to others.

What you’re looking for in separation is independence – the ability to think and act on your own and in your own best interests, despite what others may expect of you. Defining yourself as separate from others is about finding your own integrity as an individual.

What’s possible?

If more people knew their true identities, it’s likely that we’d all be better off. Families might show greater regard for one another as individuals. Teams would function more effectively, taking advantage of each member’s distinctive strengths. Organizations might hire more of the right people for the right reasons. Individuals, like you and me, might simply sleep more soundly at night.

Who are you? People want to know.

The post Who am I? appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

The other day, I came across a book I haven’t read in a while, The Book of Joy. It is based upon a weeklong conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu that is woven into a revealing narrative. The two men reflect on their personal experiences and outline what they call the eight pillars of joy. In re-reading the book, I was struck by how relevant these pillars are today as we navigate a new way of being in the world.

Here are the eight pillars, what each suggests for where we are today, and my own take on them…

!. Perspective — We have a choice in how we see things right now. We have the ability to reframe our situation more positively, and the way we see the world is how we experience it. In turn, how we see the world changes the way we feel and how we act. As hard as it is, I choose to believe that some good will come from our suffering. Perhaps, we will mature as a nation and as global citizens and realize that we really are one people, that our most essential needs, for health and economic security, are the same. Perhaps, then, we can forge policies that help us meet those needs.

2. Humility — The Coronavirus has brought us up short. In forcing us to change our ways, the virus makes it hard for someone to consider himself or herself above it all; somehow, better than everyone else, or more deserving. Like it or not, we have all been humbled. I like the feeling that humility brings. It is slowing me down. It is leading me to spend more time inside myself, rather than “out there.” I am reminded of how I feel when I look at the Rocky Mountains, or the Grand Tetons: I feel small, knowing that the forces around me are greater than I am. I am okay with that.

3. Humor — The past few weeks have seen an explosion of hysterical jokes, videos, and postings spawned by our predicament: for instance, dogs telling their owners to please go back to work soon, so they can have the house to themselves, again, and all kinds of wry spoofs on the bumpy relationship between President Trump and Dr. Anthony Fauci, who is leading the charge against the virus here in the U.S. I thank God for these jokes and thank whoever comes up with them for doing so. They are helping to keep me sane and grounded, and laughing with family and friends.

4. Acceptance — Acceptance is a close cousin to humility. In the Book of Joy, the Dalai Lama says, “Why be unhappy about something that can be remedied? And what is the use of being unhappy if it cannot be remedied?” At the moment, we have no choice but to accept our situation as it stands, so, it makes no sense to stress over it. Every day, I surrender a bit more to our new reality, letting it sink in and slow me down. I feel better when I accept the situation, but I do believe it can, and will, be remedied.

5. Forgiveness — Many mistakes are being made every day by people we’re looking to, to lead us out of this mess, first and foremost, politicians of all stripes. Mistakes are also being made by ‘regular folk’ who are ignoring the warnings to maintain social distancing, if not for their own sake, then, to protect others. They either don’t care, or are living in denial. However, like the rest of us, they are only human. I’m angry and frustrated with all of these people. But I’m working on forgiving them, for they know not what they do. I’m not there yet, but holding a grudge won’t help anyone, least of all me.

6. Gratitude — In times like these, it may be hard to find things to be thankful for. Or not. Maybe, the best time to express gratitude is when circumstances appear dark and dire, like now. And yet we can count our gifts: We are fortunate to be alive. We are fortunate to be loved. The Dalai Lama points out that, sometimes, we’re given a “difficult gift,” which can be an opportunity to rise to the challenge. With this in mind, I am grateful to be able to witness history in the making. I’m grateful for finding small ways to help others who have less than I do; for instance, taking food to the local homeless shelter. I am grateful for having many blessings I can count.

7. Compassion — Self-preservation is the order of the day. Putting yourself and your family first only makes sense. But there is more. We are social animals. We need each other in order to survive — that is a central definition of community, and this is a time of community, writ large. Practicing patience and showing genuine concern for the welfare of others may help everyone, most of all, you. When I’m upset with somebody, or a group of people, I find that being compassionate toward them helps me exhale. I try to understand “where they’re coming from,” their pain, troubles, and limitations; all the things that make them human, just like me. Sometimes, I succeed, sometimes, I don’t.

8. Generosity — Social distancing is, in itself, an act of generosity. I don’t know that we see it that way, but we should. It is a form of giving, of honoring the lives of others. There’s an expression in the fund-raising business that you should “give ‘til it hurts.” Yet, today, people are taking as much as they can. They run around buying up toilet paper, hand sanitizer and disinfectant wipes, hoarding them like squirrels hoarding acorns in autumn. They leave little for others. In fact, they don’t even think about “others.” Why not? I went into a supermarket last week for bottled water. There were six one gallon containers left on the almost-empty shelf. I took two and left four. I could have taken them all. (Yes, I could also have taken just one.) As I walked to the car, I felt as though I’d done the right thing and a sudden warmth snuck into my bones. I hope someone will leave a little for me, someday.

Clearly, these eight pillars are all connected, just like we are. And, they stand strongest when they work together, just like we do. I hope these eight pillars bring you closer to the joy you deserve in these difficult times.

The post A time for JOY appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

Here’s another approach for fashioning a personal business card that asserts your more powerful, more meaningful parts. Stay with me …

Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to make a presentation to the Association of Career Professionals(ACP) here in Connecticut — a diverse group of career coaches and consultants, outplacement executives, and individuals in various states of transition. The session was entitled: My Brand, My Career: Building the Relationship of a Lifetime. 

While shaping one’s personal brand was the ostensible focus of the meeting, my intention was to take the crowd to a deeper place — a place that, once reached, would become the foundation of their personal brand, but also provide them a fresh perspective on how to build a life and legacy they’d be proud of. In short, their brand would become their authentic, distinctive, and sustainable center of gravity.

To get to this “deeper place,” we tackled a variety of questions ranging from who am I? and what makes me special? to where am I going?, who can I trust?, and what is my message? All of these questions, and others, were aimed at cracking the code on one’s essential identity as the starting point for shaping a truly meaningful brand.

Once you crack your code, you’re ready to get real. Put your personal brand statement on a business card — if you don’t have one, or only have a company card, have some made — you’re inviting people to get to know you faster and better. You’re inviting notable discussions, which could lead to a new job, or even a new career. (And, it’s a great conversation starter at cocktail parties!) You’re promoting what you’re really “good at” and what makes you unique. That’s what your brand needs to do.

What are you waiting for?

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One of the climbers, Kevin Jorgeson said of the achievement: “I hope it inspires people to find their own Dawn Wall. We’ve been working on this thing a long time, slowly and surely. I think everyone has their own secret Dawn Wall to complete one day, and maybe they can put this project in their own context.”

I think we do, too. I know I do, although, I’m not always sure what that is. No matter. What matters is waking up to the possibility that there’s a larger purpose to our lives than just getting through the day — something that takes the courage, patience, determination, grit, vision, and passion these two guys put into their climb.

Or, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, it doesn’t matter at all; maybe, getting through the day about 30,000 times (that’s 80+ years, if you’re interested), is enough. No Dawn Walls, but lots of dawns.

What a waste of a life, but that’s just my opinion.

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On the surface, it sounds reasonable to standardize, right? Consistent metrics for all. Level playing field. Better outcomes for our children, our communities and our nation.

But, I am concerned that Common Core will turn kids into robo-students, whose only aim is to meet imposed measures. Lost in the academic shuffle will be the opportunity to tap into that special ‘genius’ that resides within all individuals — and which cannot be discerned or measured through any set of standards.

Human beings — that includes kids — aren’t all the same. They aren’t “common.” They are unique beings with distinctive characteristics that define who they are and what their potential is. Children have identities, which need to be cultivated just like their ability to solve trigonometry problems, interpret literature and conduct successful science experiments.

At the center of every child is an uncommon core. If educators would ever wake up to this fact and offer personal discovery experiences, as well as academics — experiences that fostered self-awareness and, in turn, smarter decision-making — we’d be able to “measure” outcomes in terms of healthier, more well-adjusted adults, not just better test scores.

The post The Un-Common Core – What educators are forgetting and our kids aren’t getting appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

We love change. We hate change. We want more. We fear more. We aspire. We demure.

The new year is a call for hope. For possibility. For “maybe this time.” It’s a worthy pursuit. But, here’s the rub: Most people are trying, unconsciously, to change who they are. Bad idea. You can’t. So when you try, it often leads to let down.

Better plan: Before you exercise your outside, exercise your inside. Examine why it’s been so hard to get moving in the first place. Start with  these 3 “exercises:”

1. Write down 2 things about yourself you love and do NOT want to change, ever!
2. Tell someone (starting with you) how you will feel about yourself when you reach your physical target (lose 10 pounds, run 3 miles, do 25 push-ups, etc.).
3. Let yourself off the hook. It’s OK to not want to go at the gym, sometimes. Acknowledge that feeling – most people have them – ask yourself why, then go anyway. (I’ve talked to people who’ve told me that reason they stopped going is because they didn’t like to feel bad about themselves – not because they were lazy. So, admit what you really feel and move on!)

I know you have the courage to do these things. And when you do, I know you’ll be one of the folks whose face I wind up recognizing in June, long after the “hopefuls” have lost their juice.

One more thing: Write me and tell me how it goes!

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