A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s Log: February 11, 2022. UA 1119, Denver to Cancun, a very good load. And I got to observe, and participate in, a moment to celebrate after The Age of Covid. Here’s what happened.
With passengers in their seats, almost ready to close the door, I picked up the Purser’s handset in the forward galley, asked my flight attendant Joyce (waving in the picture) to join me at the front of the cabin, and made this announcement.
“Folks, I’d like to take a moment before we get underway to tell you a story. This time last year we didn’t have very many customers. That meant we couldn’t make payroll, and a large cohort of our flight attendants lost their jobs to furlough.
“Thank goodness, the story continues. Later in the year, you all started coming back to the friendly skies. And because you started coming back, we were able to start bringing our flight attendants back to their rightful places in our cabins. And it gives me great pleasure to let you know that all of our flight attendants are now back to work, and I am incredibly grateful to you for making that possible.
“And it gets even better. Not only are all of our flight attendants back, but we’ve started hiring more! And this is where I get to introduce you to Joyce. I want to let you know that our flight to Cancun is Joyce’s very first flight as a fully qualified United Airlines flight attendant. (I turned to Joyce and continued.)
“Joyce, welcome to United Airlines! I’m honored to be your Captain for your very first flight, and I’m grateful to have you on my crew. (Back to the passengers.)
“Folks let’s welcome Joyce to our flight and her new career! *Applause*
“Thank you all for honoring her that way! We’ll be underway shortly!”
With that, Joyce went back to closing the bins; I stowed the handset, returned to the cockpit, called for the “Before Pushback Checklist,” and we, that is, all of us, especially Joyce, were on our way.
Here’s the funny thing. I can think of at least two previous occasions when I commanded a first flight for a flight attendant. Neither time did it occur to me to make a big deal out of it. I should have. Why didn’t I?
I can speculate, but it really doesn’t matter. We all show up as best we can on any given day. On those other days I wasn’t ready to show up the way I did for Joyce. I’ve grown as a Captain since those days to the point that my best was better on the current occasion.
And here’s my promise and a challenge. I will continue to grow and learn and do my best to be better. Will you?
But then again, was that the real lesson in this experience? Maybe not…
Maybe the best reminder was that the Wheel of Fortune turns. Sometimes we’re at the top, like when all those furloughed flight attendants were initially hired. That was a moment to celebrate.
Then the Wheel turned, and we all found ourselves at the bottom. And we all had the option to jump off the Wheel and call it a day.
But the Wheel turned again. And all of those who stayed in the process are now back at the top. And isn’t that the real message from Joyce, and all the other flight attendants who have come back to work?
I hope as you ultimately find yourself at the bottom of the Wheel again one of these days, you’ll remember Joyce. And the many flight attendants who stayed with it during The Age of Covid. And you’ll stay in the process, too, until you find yourself reigning again at the top of the Wheel.
Thanks for reading!
Captain Mark
L-R: Ronna, The Captain, Larry, Debonney, Joyce, and Kelly.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
In a previous post with a similar title, I wrote about the importance of accountability along with grace when, for whatever reason, we show up with less than 100%. My dear friend, Captain Luis Perez, thought the article was maybe a bit simplistic and wrote in to offer some additional context.
Whenever Luis speaks about how our brains perceive and respond to stimuli I listen. He has spent much of his adult life studying what has become popularly known as “mindfulness.” Mindfulness in and of itself is a good thing, Luis might say. But it’s not the goal. The goal is “awareness without judgment.” Mindfulness is a tool that leads to awareness. Awareness without judgment leads to better response.
The “100% of 80%” article dealt primarily with attitude, and it remains valid as far as it goes. I wrote there that in the real world we sometimes just don’t have our full capacity for any number of reasons. This was in response to a Headspace program in which the host suggested that we simply choose to be ok with whatever capacity we happen to have on that day and leave it at that.
I thought that was too easy. I offered that our best response would be a determination to give 100% of whatever capacity we show up with.
Luis suggested that I might have misunderstood. In fact, Luis imagined, the Headspace host was going far deeper than addressing our attitude. He was pointing out that when we recognize that we’re not performing up to standard, such a normally healthy circumstance can create a less-than-helpful mental state and an internal conversation that spirals toward even worse performance if we can’t let it go. That would not be an ideal response.
Importantly, it might have more to do with awareness than attitude, and according to Luis’s thinking, that was likely what the Headspace host was addressing. He was saying it’s good to recognize the situation, then accept the fact, be ok with it, and move in the direction of repairing rather than kicking ourselves. I’ll buy that.
I continue to maintain that attitude is an important component of performance. That’s my “Type A Captain” coming out. Luis agrees that excellence begins with attitude, and he points out that awareness is the next necessary evolution for best performance. My Type A self is listening.
Since he can bring his full 100% to the conversation, I’ll let him take it from here. His note follows, edited for clarity and brevity.
“Hi Mark,
I always like reading your Captain’s logs. They inspire me and make me reflect. Here are some reflections about your “100% of 80%” article.
Unless we are aware of every thought bouncing around in our minds moment to moment, how do we know we are providing 80, 90, or 100% of our attention to what is happening right in front of us in real time? (Captain’s note: Actually, we probably aren’t and don’t. In the previous chapter it took Coach Bob to bring that reality to his player’s attention. So we might need some help with recognizing what’s important in a given moment. Luis explains further…)
According to most research, on average “we are missing 50 percent of what is happening in front of us.” (Amishi Jha, Peak Mind: Find Your Focus; Own Your Attention; Invest 12 Minutes a Day, HarperOne, 2021) Incredibly, when you think about it, we are still able to accomplish many tasks like driving cars and flying airplanes while not having our full attention on what we are doing with our bodies. As a matter of fact, I am sure you have written many articles in your mind while still driving home from work.
The practice commonly known as meditation that you are now engaged in using Headspace is what will slowly increase your awareness of what is happening in your brain, that is, all the incoming data together with your subconscious processing, that is taking your focus away from the present moment.
Because our thoughts and emotions are an ever-present threat to our attention system, constantly tugging our attention away from present moment awareness, sometimes we might not “show up with 100%” for what we are attempting to accomplish at that moment. We might miss an important detail or make a mistake.
And then we catch ourselves. Or, in the previous example, Coach Bob notices and brings it to our attention. At that moment of noticing that something isn’t right, the recommendation to “recognize it and be ok with it” has more to do with acknowledging the mind pattern that will be created by “not being ok with it,” rather than with acceptance of mediocrity. And, I would argue, the patterns created by “being ok” and not “being ok” are opposites and may result in very different outcomes regardless of attitude or intent.
While I wasn’t there, I know Coach Bob, and imagine that the way he told his player to “get back out there and give me 100%” was encouraging rather than accusing. And I’m sure it had the effect of returning the kid’s mindset to the task on the field rather than sending his brain into guilt and self-recrimination. But what if Coach Bob had a different style and chewed the kid out rather than steering him back to proper awareness for the moment?
The problem is that if we hold ourselves to a standard of 100% effort and attention 100% of the time, we might find ourselves getting disappointed or upset when we don’t meet that standard. The moment one gets upset or disappointed at not having shown up at 100%, or put another way, the moment one decides to hold oneself accountable in the traditional sense, is the moment when a less-than-helpful mental loop is likely to begin. That loop has the potential to take our attention even further from what we are engaged in. That, of course, is not the desired response to a mistake!
This is not to say that 100% effort and awareness is not a worthy goal. It is to say, however, that being human, it’s unlikely we’ll be in a place to give it 100% of the time. How we respond to that understanding makes all the difference.
In other words, if we are flying and we make a mistake, should we beat ourselves up about it for whatever period of time before we set about repairing the mistake? Or should we keep flying the aircraft with our full attention on what is happening in front of us, maybe repairing the mistake right away rather than taking even a small amount of time to dwell on the error itself? The aircraft will certainly not wait for us to think about the mistake for too long before things can start to go bad.
The recommendation from the Headspace host would probably be something along the lines of “note the mistake, be ok with it, and keep flying. Once on the ground, debrief, evaluate, and learn.”
Cheers,
Luis”
Cheers, indeed, Captain! Thanks so much for taking the time to share your wisdom!
And there you have it, folks. Captain Luis and I agree on the need for personal accountability. As he often does, he has given me a clearer understanding of how that might look in an ideal world. And, of course, how we can move ourselves in the direction of manifesting that ideal situation more and more frequently until it becomes the default response when things start to go bad.
Awareness without judgment. Move toward repair rather than recrimination. That’s the goal. Can we be ok with that?
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life Blog” with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s log: February, 2022. I’m in Orlando on my own dime, listening for what The Meadow might have to say.
Yeah, I know. We’re usually down in the Willow Creek Open Space in Colorado. But The Meadow travels with me and speaks to me wherever we happen to be. Today we’re sauntering through Constitution Green, a tiny park in Central Orlando that I discovered years ago, and now visit faithfully whenever I’m here.
How could I not? This live oak tree is estimated to be over 200 years old. Its massive arms dive to the ground, then spring back up into newly supported trunks. It’s a wonder. And so I do.
After all, some use clocks. I keep time by the rhythm of The Meadow. And this old tree records the passage of time on an entirely different scale. Those records contain treasures to be picked up, turned over in hand, and pondered.
As I pondered this morning, here’s what the old tree had to say.
“Life will be hard later if you don’t pay the price today to become valuable tomorrow. Life will be hard today if you do pay the price, but delaying gratification today will ensure that tomorrow’s possibilities will be endless.”
Two centuries of wisdom walking with my six decades of stories that carry lessons of their own. Some in my world think I’m “old.” But I’ve got nothin’ on this guy. He gave me good stuff today. Now I’m giving it to you.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s Log: autumn, then winter 2020 on random days off.
If you are able to get outside – way outside – which is to say, far from the madding crowd, you’ll come across a creek somewhere, moving down a hill, with a purpose. And if you take a moment to be still… and mindful… of the sound it makes, you’ll recognize that there’s something… important… about the sound of a creek in a Rocky Mountain forest. In autumn, and in winter.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s Log: Any given day in the terminal.
My customers have little say in the outcome of our “joint project.” It’s all up to me as far as they’re concerned. Many never give that reality a second thought.
Some, though, have yet to come to terms with climbing into an aluminum tube with 172 other humans, accelerating to 80% of the speed of sound, ascending to 6 miles above the earth’s surface, cruising quietly for a couple of hours, and arriving hundreds if not thousands of miles from where they began. How do I give them confidence it will end well/successfully?
Something I learned in Captain school is that everything speaks. Everything I do conveys a message of some sort. Which means that as I walk up to the gate my passengers are watching, and I’m saying things without ever speaking a word.
Unfortunately, I’m not the prettiest guy in the concourse, so I’m at a disadvantage when it comes to creating a good first impression. But I do what I can, even in that moment. I show up in the best possible way on that particular day. My hat is in place, my blazer buttoned, my shoes shined. I approach the boarding area with all the dignity I can muster. It’s the least I must do and the best I can do to transfer a sense of confidence to my passengers.
Of course, there will be more later. In just a few minutes I’ll pick up the microphone to welcome them to our flight. The surface-level information contained in that greeting will be all the standard things you’ve ever heard from any other Captain on any other flight – time en route, weather at destination, etc.
My subconscious message, very intentional even if subconscious, will be conveyed by the act of allowing them to lay eyes on me and hear me string a few words together. If I’m successful, they’ll come to the conclusion that “this guy looks and sounds like he knows what he’s doing. It’s not his first rodeo.” And their stress level will go down.
And I can almost feel your eyes beginning to roll. You may be thinking that Captain Mark has succumbed to delusions of grandeur. He’s just the guy flying the plane. It really doesn’t matter how he walks up to the gate, nor what he says. Nobody cares.
You may be right. And yet…
The very last event of my transition training from first officer to Captain was a check flight in the simulator. The session included a briefing from the evaluator about what was going to transpire during the ensuing several hours. It also included some philosophy about excellence, and how to go about becoming the best we have the potential to be.
Part of that conversation included a bit of commentary about how to wear the uniform well. He remarked that as we walk through the concourse people are watching, and they’re thinking, “I hope that guy’s my Captain,” or… not. And he suggested that they’ll be coming to those conclusions because of the way we carry ourselves and wear our uniforms. I thought that was nice and got the point. But I didn’t think for a minute that he was being literal.
Until that morning in Boston.
During summer operations most airlines offer pilots a “summer option” for how to wear the uniform. If they so choose, pilots are allowed to go to work without the hat and blazer. It’s a much more comfortable option in hot weather. And more casual-looking.
One summer morning in Boston my first officer and I chose to show up in our full uniforms; hats in place, blazers buttoned, shoes shined. Most of the other flight officers in the terminal were wearing their summer option, so we kinda stood out a little.
Shortly after we arrived at the gate I picked up the microphone and began doing my best to transmit all my messages. That complete, I stepped over to the boarding lanes to greet my passengers individually (this was pre-Covid).
One of my business-class passengers took my outstretched hand and said he’d appreciated my welcome message. And that he had seen the two of us in the terminal and had remarked to his traveling companion that “I hope those two are our pilots.” I smiled genuinely, thanked him for the compliment, and looked to his friend. “He didn’t really say that, did he?” “Oh yes, he really did.”
Incredible. Not in a million years would I have thought that what our evaluator had said could possibly manifest in the real world. But there it was.
Which begs a few questions for you.
Who is in the back of your airplane, and literally along for the ride? (This would be anyone who is dependent on you – employees, business partners, team mates, family members.)
What kind of hard battles are they fighting? What anxieties are they dealing with? Why are they about to board your jet?
Now… What can you do to lower their conscious and sub-conscious stress about the flight? How do you speak to them without ever uttering a word? And what are you saying when you do?
They’re counting on you, and they know it. And everything speaks.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s Log: Several years back. A strange, strange podcast experience.
Some years ago, on the Brain Hackers podcast I was asked, “when do you cry uncle? When do you recognize that you’re just not gonna achieve your grand vision? When do you stop and move on?”
Those questions hung me up. I wasn’t ready for them. It’s just not something that folks in my author-speaker space think about very much. But they’re actually good questions.
And here’s a great answer from Admiral @Scott Jones: “Don’t tell yourself no. Make them tell you no.”
The story begins when my oldest son, Luke, was finishing his second year as a scholarship baseball player at a junior college in southeast Kansas. He told me he recognized his odds of making it to “the show” were small, and that he was thinking he might be wise to accept that reality and stop pursuing an advanced baseball career.
My response was this: if you want to play in “the show” (the major leagues), keep going in that direction as long as you can, and the game will tell you when you’ve reached your limit.
Baseball, like most sports, is very good at that. It’s naturally self-selecting. Players are advanced to the next level (college ball, minor leagues, etc.) as their talents allow. The winnowing process sends the ultimate message to those who have reached the limit of their potential.
In that moment Luke was in precisely that situation. There was no need to end his advancement by an artificial and arbitrary decision to stop just because the odds were not in his favor. If he stayed with it, he would continue to advance to the absolute limit of his ability. Then, and not before, he would know what was possible. As it turned out, he won another scholarship at a D2 university, and was able to keep going for another two years.
At the end of the day Luke was not selected to play pro ball. But because he chose to keep moving, he advanced significantly beyond the junior-college level. Baseball paid for much of his secondary education, and after college he played semi-pro ball until it no longer fit his life.
Life is instructive in that way.
Here’s the thing… We don’t get to know how far we can go until the journey ends. And there are really only two places along the way we can stop by choice. One is after we cross the finish line. The other is… anywhere else.
We all come into this world with a certain potential. And living in 21st-century America means we are given more of that than literally anyone else in any other time or place in history (think medieval kings who didn’t have central heat, running water, or cable TV!). We pretty much won the birth lottery regardless of our demographic. I might offer that those born into inner-city ghettos in the U.S. may be in some ways more fortunate than children who begin lives in the slums of Mumbai. And we only go up from there. Some might suggest that as a white male born to middle-class, educated, involved parents in a decent school district in a safe neighborhood I got the Powerball. And they’d be right. And they might go on to say that the kids in Denver’s 5-Points got the scratch ticket. They’d be right about that, too.
Still… where we start is only that. I know this is obvious and oversimplified, but we all have the ability to fulfill our potential, whatever that may be. And none of us really knows what that potential holds until we begin the process of doing whatever it takes to achieve what we were put on this earth to achieve. Or we stop before we get to the goal. Those are both decisions. We get to choose.
So let’s summarize what we know so far. For entrepreneurs, or anyone engaged in any other independent goal-oriented process, the goal line is wherever we say it is. It might be a creation, like a book. A possession earned: Lamborghini Diablo, anyone? A lifestyle manifested.
Each of those goal-lines demands time and effort until it is achieved. Or we are limited by outside forces. Or we quit.
Parables about people who stop short – only just short – of the goal are easy to find. In the world of entrepreneurs, we’ve all heard the famous Napoleon Hill story of the miner who gave up 3 feet from gold. Returning to the sports analogy, H. Ross Perot observed that “most people give up just when they’re about to achieve success. They quit on the one-yard line. They give up at the last minute of the game, one foot from a winning touchdown.”
Those are clever ideas that illustrate a point. But only that. The reality is that we can never know how many more blows with the pick axe we’re gonna need to get to the mother lode. Nor do we in real life know when we’ll reach Perot’s goal line.
What we can know with certainty is whether or not we have reached our objective. Is the pallet of books in the storage unit? Is the Maserati in the garage? Do we have the second home in The Bahamas? Those are yes or no questions. The distance to go and the time before we get there are far more vague. Until we make it, we really can’t know how close to the goal we are.
That’s the challenge. So we determine to stay in the process all the way to the end.
And, sometimes, life shows us the end before we get where we want to go.
Does that realization mean we’ve “failed?” It depends on what that word means to us. My favorite declaration along those lines comes from Conor McGregor, the MMA fighter: “We win, or we learn.” Maybe we can realize, or be shown, that what we’re experiencing is not “failure” as that word is commonly understood. Rather we’re being shown that another dream would be worth pursuing. We’re not “failing.” We’re “learning.”
Ok. Then what?
I’ve written about that very question in detail here,here, and here. But I’ll reprise the short version. To figure out what we want to do after being shown a hard limit by our previous dream, we’ll want to answer these six questions:
What do I want to do?
What do I want to be?
What do I want to have?
What do I want to give?
How do I want to spend my time?
With whom do I want to spend my time?
Those questions answered, we then spend the necessary energy and resources to figure out how to enter the process they have revealed. Finally, we begin. And here’s the secret sauce for success: as before, we stay in the process all the way to completion.
Keep in mind that this idea applies multiple times in multiple areas of our lives. Things happen, circumstances change. We’ve already talked about it above, so I’ll leave it to your imagination to come up with the potentials of that reality. But the point is that this process is not a one-time thing. It can be useful as a general principle in many ways over a lifetime.
So I invite you to keep it handy. What we know with certainty is that challenges happen. Our job is not to fret about that understanding. Our job is to create the mindset that allows us to respond well when they do.
Our success, then, comes down to this: are we willing to do what we need to do for as long as we need to do it?
Thinking back to the podcast host, I wish I had said that at some point the journey will end. We will be stopped by outside forces beyond our control. Or we will have the house on the beach. Or we will quit.
Where, then, are you in your process? Have you decided, like Luke almost did, that it would be prudent to leave your chosen path simply because the odds are against you? That would be a shame. Wouldn’t it be better to find out what’s really possible? Let’s keep you moving until you cross the goal line or hit your natural limit.
Here’s a thought. Would it be helpful if you had someone walking alongside? There are plenty of people who would gladly join your journey. I know where they hang out. Do you need some guidance, some resource that seems hidden away? Coaches abound. I know where to find them.
Want to chat? Email or give me a call. My information is available below. I look forward to stepping into the process with you.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s Log: September 30, 2020. Traveling as a civilian, going to a meeting.
I sat down in my car, Starbucks in hand, and started the motor to head for the airport. Since I wasn’t operating that day, I could have literally walked up to the gate 10 minutes before departure and been ok. But that would have been unwise…
My plan, then, was to arrive at the low-cost parking lot about 90 minutes before push back – gracious plenty of margin for any kind of issues with traffic, shuttle bus to the terminal, security lines, whatever.
Of course, it was early in the morning. And human nature, at least my human nature, being what it is, I was running a little behind schedule. As I pulled into Starbucks I was 20 minutes later than I had planned. Knowing I’d built in all that margin I still wasn’t stressed. But I had been aware of a nagging sense floating just beneath my consciousness ever since I got out of the shower that something wasn’t right. I wrote it off to pre-game jitters, and an unusual context. I was going as a passenger that day – not a Captain. So a little nervousness might be expected, right?
Then it hit me. I was an hour off. In the wrong direction. Gawd. If I have to be off an hour why couldn’t I be an hour early? No such luck.
Alright, now what? There is absolutely no way I’m gonna make this flight. It takes an hour from my house to the concourse on a good day with no delays. And I’m pulling out of Starbucks and into the teeth of morning rush hour 75 minutes before push back.
As I turned onto Arapahoe Rd. headed for the interstate I listed my options. Can I take a later flight? Yes. Pros and cons? I can still easily make the conference the next day, which is my primary reason for traveling. That’s good. But I’m planning to meet my college roommate for dinner this evening. If I take the later flight I arrive too late for that. That’s bad. Can that be rescheduled? Maybe, but he’s also an airline Captain and may or may not be available the next day or later. Conclusion: it would be really good if I could somehow make the first flight.
It ain’t gonna happen. There’s no way. The reality settles into my forebrain as I enter the flow from the ramp onto I-25. Since the next flight is two hours later I might as well just keep going. When does Google say I’m gonna arrive at the airport?
Thirty minutes before push. Welp, that’s not enough time to get parked, catch the shuttle, go to the employee line for security, get selected for a random inspection, then catch the train and run down the concourse to my gate. Obviously, I’m not gonna catch this flight. Relax and plan to get a nice breakfast in the terminal before the second flight. Maybe I should text Kevin and let him know?
Well, maybe we hold off on that text. What if I park in the garage instead of the cheap lot? Google says that would actually give me a fighting chance. It’s becoming conceivable that I could make it if I parked close, made it through the employee security line without getting selected for additional inspection, and did the O.J. Simpson run (Millennials and younger Google it) through the concourse. Garage parking? Expensive. Sheesh! Dinner with my roommate? Priceless. Yeah, ok. I’m in. Let’s give it a shot.
Red lights. I’ve only just made the northbound turn on I-225 beyond Iliff Avenue when I see brake lights ahead. Google shows the highway has turned a mixture of yellow and red all the way up to I-70. Well, that pretty well takes care of that. But I’m going anyway, right? So I keep driving.
And somehow, as if by magic, the traffic didn’t slow down all that much. Next thing I knew I was taking the Peña Blvd exit from I-70 and Google was saying I’d still arrive at the airport 25 minutes before push. What the heck? Am I gonna catch this flight? Hammer down. Please no cops…
True to Google’s word I pulled into the garage 25 minutes before departure time. I parked and started running toward the terminal. Next hurdle: security. The crew line was short. I flashed my badge, lowered my mask so he could match my face against my passport photo (I know… don’t get me started), and was on the escalator to the train.
Twenty minutes until push back. They close the door at the 10-minute mark. I reached the bottom of the escalator just in time to see the train pull away. Two minutes until the next train. Tick tock.
On the train. Half-a-minute to the A concourse. Wait a minute for passengers to get off and on the train. Another half-a minute to the B concourse. I think I’m gonna make it.
Off the train, onto the rising escalator. It’s soooo. Blooooody. Sloooow. At the top I turned east and started the O.J. thing toward gate 47. I arrived sweaty and breathless 12 minutes before departure time. I headed for the door to scan my boarding pass. Wait – what? Des Moines? I’m going to Atlanta! They’ve changed the gate? To what (please, please, please not gate 15!)? Gate 50 right over there? Awesome!
I scanned my pass literally 10 minutes before departure. The agent followed me down the jet bridge and closed the aircraft door behind me. This is me settling into my seat 7 minutes before push time.
Dinner with my roommate that evening was ever-so-sweet. And he never knew just how close we’d come to not having it. The meeting the next day was exciting. And my writing retreat over the following days in the cabin up the road from the conference was highly productive as I put some of the finishing touches on my next book.
So why am I telling this story? The point is really self-evident, isn’t it? As my heart rate slowed back toward normal I had to laugh. All the clichés came to mind: it ain’t over ‘til it’s over; never give up; and, of course, stay in the process. What a great example of how sometimes improbable desires work out – if we’re still there for it to happen! Several times during that drive it had become clear that there was no way I was gonna be on that flight. At any point I could have stopped looking for ways to make it work and relaxed into the understanding that I would have to see my roommate another time, and stepped out of the process. Yet there I was.
And here we are. The story of my hopeless drive to the airport sort of sums it all up – all the stories and lessons I’ve been writing about since my first book came out. (There’s a hint in that last sentence for those who are watching…) Sure, it contains all the clichés. But that doesn’t make the stories or their morals invalid. Clichés become clichés because they are commonly used. They are commonly used because they are true. Which means each one can be useful for those who have not yet assimilated that particular truth.
Now… I know my demographic. I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard and likely assimilated all these clichés. And yet, something else I’m pretty sure about is even at my season of life it’s often helpful, or at least maybe kinda fun, to hear an old truth expressed in a new way.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” Blog with Mark Hardcastle
Captain’s Log: January 25, 2022. A day of work, although no flying. I flew hard during the pilot absences over the holidays created by the notorious Omicron outbreak. I gave 100% during that push, but it’s over now, and I’m on retreat in Leadville, CO, giving my manuscript all I’ve got in hopes of finishing this week.
That flying surge had me constantly self-evaluating. In my world I simply must show up every day with 100%. In fact, that’s enshrined in law via the Federal Aviation Regulations. Our duty rigs make it possible for us to fly hard during unusual times like this endless Covid era, because those FARs draw the line for us. We can only fly so much over the course of a day, a week, a month, or a year before we run out of available duty time. So we always know where we stand, and how much more we can contribute.
But despite those rules, it’s just as plausible that we might get too burnt too soon and have to call a time out, for which we also have protocols in place. Every time we approach a plane we self-assess and decide how close to the line we happen to be, as I did over the holidays. And I’m glad my time is now up for this short season, and I can think of concerns other than flying.
I’m curious, though, about you. How does it work in your world? Do you ever have one of those days when you know from the get-go that you just don’t have 100% today? You take your shower as always, have your breakfast of champions and make your coffee with an extra tablespoon of grinds. But no matter what, you’re not gonna get to your day with the effort you’re normally able to give it. And you know it.
In my world I can call “King’s X” and take a break. How about you? Are you in a place where you are able simply to accept it and go in anyway? Then what? Do you chastise yourself? Tell yourself to get it together? Respond to the situation with grace for yourself and those around you?
Hang with me now while I make a hard turn. Do you meditate? If so you may have heard of the Headspace App. It provides a catalog of guided meditations of varying lengths and with myriad objectives. Over time the app expanded into a daily podcast which has become the first thing my phone serves me in the morning after it wakes me up and tells me the weather and how long it’s gonna take to drive to work.
One recent episode dealt with perfection and our inability to achieve it. The point wasn’t really surprising. It was giving us permission simply to do our best and learn to be ok with that.
Nothing new there. It’s the sort of idea that’s so common in my world of personal development and inspiration (though not flying, as I said above!) as to be well into the realm of cliché. Which meant that while I thought the piece from Headspace was nice enough, I didn’t find it particularly useful.
But then as I rolled out of bed and the Headspace sentiment settled into my still-foggy brain, I remembered another “aha” moment.
I was having lunch at Cooper’s Troopers, a monthly meeting of veterans from all wars, listening to my friend Captain Bob Zimmerman regale these aging veterans with stories of leadership he’d learned from coaching teenage lacrosse.
Bob told us of the day he noticed that one of his guys wasn’t performing up to his usual skill. In fact, it looked like he wasn’t giving 100% at practice. So he called the kid over to check in. The kid thought a minute, and said, “you know coach, you’re right, I’m not. In fact, I don’t think I even have 100% today.”
Not what Bob was expecting. But in a flash of coaching genius he thought to ask, “ok, how much do you have?” “About 80% I guess” was the response. “Ok, give me 100% of 80%. Now get back in there.”
“100% of 80%.” As a member of Bob’s audience how could it not stick with me?
When I remembered that, my moment of “meh” at the Headspace offering became a smile of actual gratitude for them having brought the story to mind, albeit unintentionally and indirectly. Still, there it was.
Both sources were expressing the same fundamental sentiment: “be ok with whoever you are and however you need to show up on any given day.” Why was Bob’s so much more impactful to me?
While I’m in no way averse to receiving grace in a moment of challenge, Headspace was being too easy on me, and, for that matter, everyone else listening to the podcast. The narrator seemed to be giving me (us) a free pass. It was an “I’m ok, you’re ok” sentiment from the ’70’s that contained no measure of accountability.
As a Captain I’m in a position to lead my crew, including myself, to be the best they can be. The idea of accepting mediocrity simply because someone may not feel like expending the effort to be excellent grates on me.
That said, I get it. Nobody shows up as his or her absolute best self every single day. Granted: stuff happens. No need to list all the “stuff” here.
What I like about the “100% of 80%” idea is that it takes that reality into account without letting me slide. It gives me grace to do and be the best that I can on any given day while challenging me still to give as close to excellence as I can in the circumstances.
My “Type A” self likes that a whole lot better.
How does that resonate with you? Am I quibbling over “a distinction without a difference”? Or am I on to something?
I can imagine my more empathetic readers will gravitate toward a softer, more general “just be your best and we’ll be good” response when someone nearby isn’t up to the full ticket. My harder-nosed “git ‘er done” friends may think even this new standard isn’t strong enough. Where do you fall on that continuum? Are you able to apply a consistent standard to yourself as well as those on your team?
I’d love to know your thoughts on this. I’ll be glad to pass them on to Captain Bob.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
Captain’s Log: December 23, 2019. This is my new friend, Jerry. I had the honor and privilege of carrying him from Chicago to Denver tonight to visit his grandchildren in Aurora, Colorado. The last time he was on an airplane was 50 years ago, redeploying from Vietnam.
“How fast did we go?” “.8 Mach.” “How fast is 1 whole Mach?” “It’s the speed of sound.” “Man! That’s just weird.” “Thanks for coming with me Jerry! Have a great Christmas with your grandkids!”
Yup, meaningful work. Connecting Jerry with his grandkids for Christmas. And everyone else with their moments that matter most. Every. Single. Day.
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
A “Symphony of Your Life” blog with Mark Hardcastle
In another blog post I write about how I sometimes stand in front of a room wearing my corduroy blazer with leather elbow patches rather than my uniform jacket with four stripes. In August of 2019 I had the honor of doing just that.
The Colorado Independent Publishers’ Association asked me to emcee their annual awards banquet. I got to be the one to hand out the award certificates and pose for pictures with the winners, which was great fun. Another of my duties was to offer a keynote presentation to get the festivities underway. It was one of the funnest (most fun?) speeches I’ve ever given. If you have the secret decoder ring you might still find it on YouTube.
But since you likely don’t have the ring, I thought I’d write down the ideas I offered to that room full of kindred spirits. And I invite you to think through them with us as if you were a fly on the wall that night.
As I climb the steps onto the stage, I look out to the crowd and say…
“It’s so good to be in a room full of writers! And I can’t wait to help you celebrate your love of books and writing tonight! Let’s start the celebration by acknowledging everyone who has done the work. I invite you to stand up with me if you’re under consideration for an award tonight and let us give you some love! Great! Welcome! Good luck to every one of you!
Now let me ask you again to stand up with me if you feel like writing books is easy. Anybody here feel like that? Nobody? Let the record show, nobody stood up. [laughter]
Now, one last time, I’d invite you to stand with me if you believe that writing books is worth it! Yeah! [applause] In case you couldn’t see from where you’re sitting, almost everybody stood up.
What you all have just done is demonstrated this idea that while writing books can be challenging, the rewards can be significant. That idea applies to all of life. It’s been my observation that we find the good stuff by doing the hard stuff. We should go about this business of doing hard things so that we can receive the good stuff that life has to offer.
I’ll be talking about that tonight, particularly as it relates to this idea of writing books. Now, if you’re a book writer, you understand. If you’re not, you can use that as sort of a metaphor for whatever challenge you’ll be facing over the next days, weeks, months, and years.
I’ll be offering three thoughts for your consideration over the course of the evening. The first is that we cannot allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the project that we have cut out for ourselves. The second idea is that however long it takes to do the project, we have the ability to stay in the process for that long. And finally, the third idea we’ll talk about tonight is what I call “the power of the pull.” I’m going to invite you to visualize what your reward will look like when you finish writing your book, then allow that vision to pull you to your success.
So, let’s talk about the first idea. We can’t allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the totality of the task.
Let’s imagine taking a trip to Honolulu. Would you like to do that? Well, when you do, you’ll likely find yourself on the beach in Waikiki for at least the first few days. Why? Duh, Honolulu, right? [laughter] But after two or three days of lying on the beach, you might find yourself going a little further afield in search of what Honolulu has to offer. I would suggest maybe you consider exploring some hikes. There are some great ones on Oahu.
The one I have in mind tonight is a dormant volcano called Koko Head. In World War II, Koko Head was used by the Army as a lookout site. Every morning soldiers would climb into a railroad car that would crank them up a track to the top of the mountain, and they would pile out and spend the day scanning scanning the horizon for enemy ships. After World War II, the base was abandoned, and fell into ruin. But the grade bed remains to this day, and it has become a very popular hike. So the park system maintains all 1,150 railroad ties up the side of that mountain.
Now imagine a classic witch’s hat-shaped volcano. What I mean by that is the initial grade is gentle. About halfway up the mountain, it turns steep and stays like that all the way to the peak. If you choose to take on this challenge, I’d suggest maybe you go there early while it’s still cool. It can get hot in Honolulu by mid-morning. When you get there you’ll meet up with probably 50, 60, or maybe even 70 of your closest friends who all had the same idea. You’ll all start up that gentle grade. And then about the point where it starts to get steep, you’ll start to run into people coming back down the other way.
Make no mistake, these are not people who got up at the crack of dawn, have already been to the top, and are heading back down to the parking lot. No, these are people who started 15 minutes ahead of you. But about the point where it started to get serious, they started looking all the way up to the top and thinking, “Man, these ties are steep now. And I’ve got 500 more of these to go!” And they started to feel the heat of the sun on the back of their neck; started to sweat a little bit; started to think, “maybe I don’t have quite enough water to make it all the way. Maybe my shoes aren’t quite right. Maybe today just really isn’t the right day to be climbing Koko Head.” And they turned around, abandoned the climb, and now you’re running into them as they head back down to the parking lot.
Of course, that’s not you. Because you understand they were looking at the wrong thing. What they were looking at was the enormity of the remainder of the climb. They got overwhelmed. What you’re looking at is the one railroad tie at your feet. And because you’ve already gone across about 500 of those railroad ties, you know that it’s a piece of cake to step up one more time. And one more.
And you realize that if you do it enough times, before you know it, you’ll be there. And you do the work. And you find yourself at the top of Koko Head, and you get to enjoy the good stuff for having done the hard climb. You soak in that spectacular 270-degree, panoramic view of the now midday sun reflecting off the waters of the Pacific Ocean as far as the eye can see. And you get that because you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the totality of the task.
Time for the next idea. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take. Ask any of the editors here, any book coaches in the room, how long does it take to write a book? It takes as long as it takes, right? Yeah, Mike’s nodding (@Michael Daniels, a book coach in Denver. Look him up!). The good news is that it doesn’t matter how long that turns out to be, because you have the ability to stay in the process for that long.
It’s hard to imagine, but this lesson was driven home to me 40 years ago when I was a junior in college. It was an intense moment – I remember it like it was yesterday.
The setting was the US Army’s Parachute Training Jump School down in Fort Benning, Georgia. I was there as part of my military training.
Now, jump school is a three-week course. Let’s call the first two weeks “ground school.” That’s when you learn all the technical skills you need to be able to jump out of perfectly good airplanes – which we then proceeded to do five times in week 3 to earn our silver wings. I jumped out of perfectly good airplanes five times! Seriously? All right, I was young, okay?
Did I mention that jump school is at Fort Benning? Well, Fort Benning is in south Georgia, and if I told you that I was in south Georgia in August, you’d tell me it was hot and…? Humid, that’s right! It was hard to breathe.
Here’s something you probably understand about parachutes. You probably understand that if you have this nice, big, open parachute, you come down slower than… if you don’t! That’s kind of the point. What some of you may not understand is that even when you have this nice big fluffy parachute, you can still hit the ground pretty hard, and if you’re not in really good shape, you can get injured.
Obviously the Jump Masters know this. And one of the objectives they have for ground school is to make sure that everyone is in the best possible condition before you go and jump out of the plane. So I did a lot of pushups, a lot of sit-ups under that Georgia sun.
Then came Friday morning of week two, the last day of ground school. The Jump Masters showed up at the training ground with a lesson that was going to be cloaked in physical conditioning, but really had nothing to do with the technical skills I was just telling you about. They wanted to teach us just how far we could go.
The Lead Jump Master ordered us to “Fall in, Airborne!” Now, you’ve got to understand. At jump school, everybody is “Airborne.” Doesn’t matter if they’re talking to an individual or if they’re addressing the entire group. They’re always talking to “Airborne.”
“Fall in, Airborne! Now we’re going for a one mile conditioning run. Forward, march! Double time, march!” And we were off and running.
And let’s just say the Jump Master established… a brisk pace. Then he got faster. Then he got faster again. So by the time we got to the end of the course, we were at an absolute lung-searing, heart-pounding sprint, really glad to see that finish line coming up.
That’s when the other shoe dropped: “Great job, Airborne! Now we’re going for another mile!” And a bunch of guys dropped out to rest. They just knew they couldn’t go another mile. Not at that pace.
Somehow, though, most of us kept running. And we hadn’t gone another 50 yards when the Jump Master called us to a halt. “Quick time, march! Platoon, halt! Fall out.” And as we were trying to catch our breath, the Jump Masters said nothing, allowing the lesson of the day to become self-evident. Had they felt the need to state the obvious, however, this is what I think they might have said:
“All right, Airborne, now you understand that if you believe you can keep going as long as you need to, you’re probably right. And you also understand that if you believe you can’t” – as he might have pointed back at our friends who’d given up just a few yards short of the end – “you’re probably right about that too, Airborne. Because ya see, it’s always mind over matter. You can keep on as long as you need to. You just need to know you can.”
Tonight, I want you to know that you can keep going as long as you need to, to fulfill your dream of writing that book.
Finally, I invite you to see the power of the pull. The picture I’m going to paint might be easier to imagine if you close your eyes. Walk with me now into your future on the day you receive the first copy of your book.
You’re holding it in your hand. How does it feel under your touch? What does the art on the cover look like? Bring it to your face. Flip through the pages. Can you smell the ink? What do you hear around you as you enjoy your book for the first time?
Here’s something else that might happen that day. If you closed your eyes you can open them now. Imagine that on that day, your book didn’t come in a carton on a pallet of 1,000 books. It came in a padded envelope, because that is your author approval copy. It’s the only copy that exists in the world. You haven’t even ok’d the print yet, but here it is.
And it’s the day that your neighborhood has started its annual garage sale. So you have opened up your garage door, put a whole bunch of clothes in there that you want to sell, and you’ve laid out your lawn chair on your driveway just in front of the garage, Your lawn is littered with all the junk you want to get rid of. You start to settle into the chair to read your words. Euphoric is not too strong a word for what you’re feeling.
Just as you settle in, here comes a minivan. It pulls up in front of your house, the side door slides back, a bunch of grownups start to pile out, and before the first woman’s foot hits the sidewalk, she yells across to you, “that must be a great book from the look on your face!”
“Yeah, absolutely!” You jump up out of the lawn chair. You run over to the van. “It’s a great book! Check it out. I wrote this!”
And she takes it, and at the first impression she gets serious. She looks at the art on the front, turns it over. Reads the blurb on the back. She opens to the table of contents and says, “I think this book might help me.”
“Great! Tell me why! I’m thrilled but tell me why!”
She lifts the hem of her sweatshirt. You see a pouch of medicine with a line going into her abdomen. “I’m fighting breast cancer.”
You’re stunned, and you look around for a pen. You sign it – the only copy in the world. You give it to her. “Please take this away. Please, I hope it helps. Email me. Let me know how it serves you.”
A month later, you receive an email from her neighbor telling you how much your book has meant to her friend.
Then you give the printer the ok. Your books show up on a pallet. You pile them into your garage, and over the course of the next days, weeks, months, as the stacks in your garage get shorter and shorter, you hear story after story after story about how your book has changed lives.
Folks, that… is the good stuff. That can be your reward, as it was for me.
So here we are, some day in the future, on the day you received your book. I invite you to drive a stake into the ground on that day. Now take a giant rubber band and attach one end around that stake with the other end around your waist, and walk backward into today, August 17, 2019. Tonight, I invite you to think of the process, and allow the power of that vision to pull you forward into your success.
And before you know it, you’ll realize that the mountain’s not that big, and the time it’s going to take is not that long. And that your success is within your grasp.
Tonight we’re here to celebrate this idea of writing books. In just a few minutes, we’re going to hand out awards to those who’ve done it well. I congratulate you for being part of the celebration. Thanks for coming.
Again, I encourage you to step into the process, meet whatever challenge it presents, and enjoy working through the hard stuff to receive the good stuff you deserve.
It’s been a pleasure to speak with you all. Thanks so much for the opportunity!“
Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.
The Symphony of Your Life 