Imagine you see what is possible, when others only see what exists in the moment.

Imagine you can inspire hope, when nearly all hope is lost.

No need to imagine it. You already possess these powers.

Here is a passage about someone who accomplished all of this, despite impossible odds.

…The Nazis gave him a number.

 …His manuscript, which they burned, became the book that saved millions.

…The man they tried to reduce to nothing proved that humans can never be reduced to nothing—as long as they can find a reason to live.

 …Prisoner 119104 didn’t just survive Auschwitz. He transformed the worst of human evil into humanity’s greatest wisdom about resilience.

 …He turned suffering itself into a source of healing.

 …History gave him immortality.

 …The identity they tried to erase became a light that guided people through darkness …

 His name was Viktor Frankl. His identity was a bulwark that stood against the forces of destruction that surrounded him – a unique and unbreakable gift that informed his life and the contribution he made to humanity, in spite of everything.

You don’t have to be Viktor Frankl to have an identity that, in its particularly illuminating way, has the power to make life better for others and, in turn, yourself. That identity already resides within you. The only question is how you will apply it – for whom and to what end?

One of my former clients, Chris, runs an investment advisory firm here in Connecticut. A few years ago, he approached me with a wish – to not be just another financial advisor who manages money; he wanted to do more, but wasn’t sure what that was. He had an itch that needed to be scratched and was curious about this “identity thing.”

Chris did the spadework necessary to clarify his identity and then, how his discovery could be used to serve clients in ways that would be helpful to them and meaningful to him.

What came of Chris’s work? He stated his identity in these words: I am Chris, and I am driven to help individuals live the one life they have the best way they can. Chris’s identity had revealed his purpose.

These individuals were no longer simply clients; they were people with vulnerabilities and limitations as well as hopes and aspirations, all of which became a framework for building more authentic, lasting relationships.

Chris’s identity became the lens through which he decided which individuals he could best serve and which ones weren’t right for him. Further, he asked his staff to adopt this basic philosophy for themselves so it became a firm-wide approach.

Here is a very rough sketch of how Chris arrived at his identity statement. Apologies. Most of the words are illegible. But it shows the amount of effort he put into getting to the top of his ‘identity pyramid.’

When I visited Chris a month or so after our work together was complete, he showed me a modest-sized glass pyramid he had had made with much of this information embedded in it. It sat at the front edge of his desk. He told me that he liked it when clients asked him about it…that not only was it an important conversation starter; it was a point of pride for him.

The impact of identity – of identity-based living – can take many forms, from saving millions to helping a few. No matter. What matters is that you do it.

You have the power to change how the world works.

You see what is possible.

You can inspire hope.

Imagine that!

The post Imagine that! 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. 

The post What is my message (and why does it matter)? appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

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. 

The post First, quiet the dragons appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

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.

According to Webster’s, a goal is “the object of a person’s ambition or effort; an aim or desired result.” Operative word? Object; i.e., intent, or hoped-for outcome. As important as your goal may be, it is still possible to remain detached from it. It’s “out there,” on the horizon, waiting to be realized. Sometimes, we reach our goals. Sometimes, we don’t. When we do, we feel the thrill of achievement and when we don’t, we feel disappointed. Still, life goes on. 

But goals are nothing compared to promises. A promise is defined as “a declaration or assurance that one will do a particular thing or that a particular thing will happen.” The difference runs deep. While a goal can be viewed at arms-length, a promise cuts to the bone. It is a commitment, a covenant between you and someone else, or even with yourself. There is no room for ‘maybe.’ In the words of Yoda from Star Wars, “Do or do not. There is no try.” 

About a year ago, I read an article by James Hall, the editor of Bassmaster Magazine. (Yes, fishing is one of my passions.) The title of the article was I was wrong. The piece still haunts me. Here is a passage that explains why.

“My brother, Gary, used a tight-line technique with a weight. I used no weight and kept my line slack. I chided him, as only a 10-year-old could, for being “dumb.” We kept count that July and he beat me by more than a dozen fish. I was wrong and not happy about it.

We had grand plans this year to get together to re-create the fishing pursuits of our youth. We hadn’t fished together in a couple of years. I lived in Alabama; he lived in Texas. Work and trivial activities kept pushing aside our next fishing trip. Not this time. We would nail down a date and see it through. I thought this would become a tradition, something we could look forward to every year.

But, on March 1, 2021, I was again proven wrong. Gary had a heart attack in his sleep and, at age 51, was gone.

There seem to be countless secrets to a happy life, but I’ve only been smart enough to nail down one: Minimize regret. 

What would bring you heartbreak if not accomplished, assuming tomorrow never comes? I’m making a list. As for those items I no longer have control over, pushing aside one weekend over the past two years to meet Gary is at the top.”

Which brings me to the power of a promise. I recently heard a talk by Alex Sheen, founder of Because I said I would, which bills itself as a social movement and nonprofit dedicated to the betterment of humanity through promises made and kept. Alex is nothing short of inspiring in his passion for how promises create and deepen relationships, benefiting everyone involved. One of his most memorable comments was, “I don’t have to, I get to …” Feel free to fill in the blank: I get to take my child to school every day. I get to visit my ailing father once a week. I get to drive my best friend to work for a month while she recovers from an accident. What I learned from Alex is that making and keeping promises is a privilege that makes us larger in who we are.

The name of this newsletter (aka viewsletter) is Identity Insights. So, you might be asking, what does making promises have to do with identity? In short, everything. The promises you make are acts of integrity and integrity is at the root of identity. In a sense, your identity stands as a promise you make to others – about who you are and what you can be counted on to do and not do. I am Larry Ackerman and I promise to help people to see – to see the power of some actions and the futility of others. To see their innate potential as revealed by their identity. This is who I am and what I do.

Whether big or small, make promises that will matter to others and to yourself. Then, keep those promises before it’s too late. I promise I will.

The post Promises, promises appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

Underneath this seeming impasse, however, there are profound similarities that transcend our declared differences and which make us kin. In short, most of us want the same thing: to make a contribution in the world and be rewarded for it in return. However you define it, we all want to attain a rich life.

(Don’t) sweat it.

Asking yourself whether your life will be rich is one of those questions that makes us sweat. Some people sweat from the anxiety that comes from simply not knowing the answer. Others sweat from the burning hope that, maybe someday, they will make it big, cash in, hit the jackpot. Any reference to “rich” instantly conjures up images of money and the things money can buy. These things can range from luxury cars and fancy homes, to fine educations for our children and, perhaps most of all, to the supposed freedom from worry being rich implies…

Still others sweat because they realize that if they stick to the course they’re on, the answer to the question, will my life be rich? will, probably, be no. Their well-meaning efforts to protect what they’ve accumulated, or to acquire more of it, have taken over their lives. Along with their jobs, their days are governed by “to-do” lists, mortgages, tuition payments, soccer games, lawn mowing, bake sales, dance recitals, church suppers, and on and on. Despite the satisfaction many of these experiences may bring, they have squeezed out any hope of giving voice to the deeper passions that keep us alive inside, as the individuals we are.

People are sweating the wrong things. For all the time you invest in trying to “know” how things will turn out in your life, what actually happens in the future remains a mystery. For all the effort you may put into getting rich in financial terms, unforeseen circumstances can derail your dream. For all the energy you invest in owning up to the fact that you’ve left no room in your life for you, regret will accomplish nothing.

What is worth sweating is whether you do right by yourself and others. This sequence – first, you and then other people – is deliberate. It is only when you build relationships that reflect who you are at your core that you can “do right” by others. Your identity — the unique contribution you’re capable of making — is the living lens through which you can most confidently make informed decisions, engage the world, and thereby, fashion a life that you and others can believe in.

It is also worth sweating how you define rich. There is nothing wrong with money. Yet, as much as wealth may be about money, it is equally about those things that, like a magnet, draw people to you — and you to them — over and over again. For instance, the love you share with family and friends, the heart-felt recognition you receive from co-workers that fuels your determination to redouble your efforts at whatever you did to win that recognition in the first place.

Here today, here tomorrow

The idea of attaining a “rich life” is an invitation for you to decide what truly matters. What are the things that, when combined, will add up to a life you will be proud to call your own? In this vein, it’s also worth sweating what your legacy will be. Will the commitments you make and the actions you take today leave people better off because you were here? The question, will my life be rich? isn’t just about today; it is equally about tomorrow. It is about how you will be remembered and what you will be remembered for.

Here are a few simple steps you can take to build a rich life through the lens of your identity:

Clarify what “rich” means to you. Consider every aspect of your life in terms of the relationships that frame it. Write down the “ideal state” for each of these relationships – how you envision each might change, if it were fully informed by your identity. What would be different? What would stay the same?

• Your relationship with work — your job, your colleagues, your career
• Your relationship with your partner, or spouse
• Your relationship with your family
• Your relationship with your friends
• Your relationship with your community

It is intriguing to think about how our irreconcilable differences might fade, at least a bit, if we were to talk in terms of the rich lives we want to build, rather than the lives we want to tear down. We all work (or did). We all have, or seek a life partner. We all have families and friends whom we rely on, just as they rely on us. It would be no surprise if what we aspired to create in each of these vital relationships were uncannily similar.

We should start there.

The post Will my life be rich? 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.

We struggle to hear one another, understand one another, indeed, accept one another. The lightning rod for our national bickering is identity politics and the heated divisiveness it has bred among races, ethnicities, religions and, of course, political parties.

The sharpest evidence of this divisiveness is found in extreme identity-choice polarities. At one extreme is the idea that you can define yourself any way you please, even if that definition flies in the face of conventional norms. A white person can decide she is really black because that is the race she relates to most closely, that she feels she is actually part of.

At the other extreme is group identity, whereby you associate with others who are the same as you: white, blue collar males, lesbians, Christian conservatives, Hispanics, and on and on. It is from these outward, nearly tribal affiliations that we discover an inner sense of belonging that suddenly warms us, fires us up and brings seeming clarity to our lives.

At either extreme, however – individual identity-choice or group identity association – we diminish ourselves. The need to look to others to decide who we are is the essential mistake people make. It is a reflex that feeds off of the unspoken assumption that a person is incomplete, perhaps even flawed, without the validation a social label provides.

Taken as a whole, all of the hullabaloo about identity today is detracting from the very idea of identity itself. Let’s put down our identity cudgels for a moment and take a fresh look at what identity is really about.

“Identity” isn’t a new idea

Human identity has captured the imaginations of thinkers and scholars for millennia, most notably, starting with Socrates, whose words “Know thyself” have influenced countless numbers of people over time. Socrates recognized the depth of the challenge contained in those two little words. He knew that if you don’t understand your identity, you will wind up lost. On the positive side, he recognized that if you stay true to who you are, you will have the foundation you need to make wiser decisions.

More recently, there are two people whose particular contributions to this subject amplify the inescapable impact knowing thyself has on how we shape our lives. One is Erik Erikson, the German-born psychologist who has been called the architect of identity.

Erikson helped to illuminate the roots of human identity and its impact on how we mature as individuals. In his seminal book, Identity and the Life Cycle, Erikson describes identity as the blending of two forces: an individual’s ties with the particular values of his or her family, history and heritage, and the natural-born traits that simply make each of us unique. From Erikson’s perspective, our identity is a governing force that is with us always.

Another stance on human identity was taken by the psychologist, James Hillman, who looked at identity through the lens of the soul. In his book, The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling, Hillman asserts that the essence of our individuality – what he terms, our character – is within us from birth. This “essence” can have many names: “genius.” “spirit,” even “guardian angel.” Call it what you will, it’s identity by another name.

You are more than your labels

Today, the notion of “identity politics” undermines the deeper meaning of human identity as articulated by the likes of Erikson and Hillman. For all the attention the identity politics trend is receiving, it reinforces an impression that actually devalues rather than expands upon what it means to be fully human.

Is the fact that you identify as a Hasidic Jew, an African-American, a conservative, or a gay man or woman the most important definition of who you are? I don’t believe so. What defines you goes beyond these descriptors.

Your essential identity — your distinctive, value-creating characteristics — springs naturally from the core of your being. It is a place that is blind to classifications, transcending gender, ethnicity, religion, political affiliation and every other label we adopt as a way to locate ourselves in the world. You are simply you: unique and powerful in your own right.

Sing me your song

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with aligning yourself with others as a way to connect with like-minded people, or people who look like you. But, that isn’t enough. When your idea of personal identity is based upon a descriptive label rather than on the distinctive contribution you alone are capable of making, you short-change yourself, those you care most about, and society as a whole. Why? Because, to paraphrase Oliver Wendell Holmes, you leave your music inside.

In short, labels are about what you can get: affiliation, a sense of belonging, social definition. Identity is about what you can give: something of value to others who do not possess the particular blend of capabilities that set you apart from all others.

Having a clear sense of your identity is the key to shaping a life marked by authenticity and integrity — knowing what to do, what not to do, and, most important, why.

With this in mind, we’d all do well to resist the pull of social labels, which distract us from our larger task: Tapping into and applying our innate identities to how we live every day. Everyone would benefit: co-workers, friends, your children, your spouse or partner and, most of all, you. Indeed, America would benefit, because when it comes to hearing one another, understanding one another and, indeed, accepting one another, starting with yourself is the only place to begin.

The post Why can’t we all just get along? 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?

The post What’s on your business card? appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

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.

The post What’s your Dawn Wall? appeared first on Larry Ackerman.