Translator: Tanya Cushman Reviewer: Peter van de Ven
I was 28-year-old assistant professor of economics
at the University of Texas,
and I was trying to figure out how to play big.
I loved teaching.
I spent a lot of time reading, voraciously,
the devotional classics and books about spirituality,
and I went to the theater and the movies and absorbed art,
and what I was not doing
was any academic research of any kind whatsoever,
which, if you're on the tenure track,
is a problem because it's effectively an oncoming train,
and I figured that I needed some sort of intervention,
so I sought out a wise man, Will Spong, who was a professor at the local seminary,
who had a reputation for insight and tough love.
I said, "Look, I need a moral authority here.
I love business education,
I love theology,
I love theater,
so you tell me what to do.
Do I just hold my nose and do the research and get tenure,
or do I move to New York and write plays until I'm discovered,
or do I give it all up and go back to seminary and become a priest?
Whatever you say, I'm going to do."
(Laughter)
And he said,
"This is the stupidest question anyone has asked me this week."
(Laughter)
He said, "You're telling me that there are three things you love,
and you want me to tell you which two to cut off
so you can limp along on the other one.
Because this is not how things work.
The advice I have for you is don't discard.
Find a way to keep all three of these things in the mix."
I said, "Yeah, but what am I going to do for a living?"
He said, "We'll find out.
Right now what you do is spend two hours a week
wholeheartedly engaged in each of those three things,
and let them talk to each other.
Something will begin to happen in your life that is unique and powerful."
Now, this really made me angry
(Laughter)
because I had come in for, you know, a shot of cortisone
and what I had gotten in effect was some kind of weird homeopathic thing.
(Laughter)
And I trusted him
because when you look at him, you see in his face
this kind of confidence and generosity and insight
and this weird mix of being warm and firm
that leads to this personal authority that I found completely compelling.
And so I did it.
I started taking classes at the seminary in theological ethics.
I started taking creative writing classes at UT
and going to an open microphone down on Sixth Street
and performing little monologues,
and I started paying attention to what my students were trying to do
so that I could figure out how I could help.
And then something weird happened,
because by the time I showed up to resign my assistant professorship,
it wasn't like I'd made any big decision;
it was like I was just recognizing what had already happened.
And after my chairman said, "What will you do for health insurance?"
the next thing that happened was I was hired back
at a teaching-only job that paid 50% more.
So I had a little bit of latitude, and I loved this,
and as I got engaged
in this regular rhythm of engaging these reliable sources of inspiration,
I started to get better at them -
which felt really good.
Now, what didn't feel so good was having to respond to the question,
"What do you do for a living?"
Because instead of having a career,
I had sort of a loose collection of hobbies.
And I remember Will Spong saying to me,
"You don't need a career.
You need a calling.
And right now, you're listening."
Now, it's interesting how he framed this puzzle,
that there's technology for finding your way to play big
that doesn't involve making some bold sacrificial commitment,
but rather, being determined to keep all the pieces in play
and trusting there's some wisdom in that
that's going to start to burble up into something that you're looking for.
This is perhaps what the theologian and writer Frederick Buechner meant
when he said, "You find your calling
where your deep passion meets the world's deep need."
It's probably also the inspiration for the business guru Jim Collins,
who found that the companies that are really great
are the ones where people are doing what they love,
doing what they're good at
and doing it in a way that creates something that people will pay money for -
that is, meets some need.
So I found, very quickly,
that these things that were in my life were starting to talk to each other.
For instance,
I was using improv techniques in my economics classes.
I was using technology from the classroom in my theater pieces -
people love it when you show up with an overhead projector.
Audiences kind of - it takes them back to a very vulnerable place in their life.
(Laughter)
And I also discovered that since money is God for most of us,
an economist has lots to contribute at a seminary.
In fact, at one point,
the seminary dean came to me and he said,
"Would you be willing to teach a class on the spiritual power of money?"
And I didn't even have to think about that: "Yes, yes, I will."
And I went home, and somehow the syllabus came together,
and I got to be part of the lives of the divinity students
in a way that was really, really satisfying.
These lines began to blur and cross,
and the next thing you know,
one of the local theaters wants to produce an evening of my monologues about money.
And the next thing you know,
I get a call from a business man for whom I have great respect
who's organizing a conference of technology executives,
and he says, "Would you write a play for us?"
And I said, "No, I'm not entertainment."
He said, "We need someone who can reflect on the spiritual significance
of the technology stock market bubble."
(Laughter)
And I thought, "I'm in. Yeah, I can do that."
(Laughter)
So the way in which these things fit together -
So it appeared to me, then, that part of playing big
was creating these small ways of demonstrating what you can do well,
these small ways of packaging your intention
and putting it out in the world.
We might call it "lead with what you love."
And when you do that,
people who are further down the path,
who are wiser than you and better connected,
they will see what you're trying to do and make the way for you to do more of it.
Now, I've never been any good at networking -
I'm shy and I resist anything that feels like celebrity stalking -
but by putting this stuff out there,
I found that I was starting to get the connections
that really were leading in the direction of what I was trying to do.
I then discovered another practice that was part of what was coming together,
and this was in a beautiful book by Julia Cameron, "The Artist's Way,"
where she says, "In the morning, get up and write three pages every day,"
because that's creating the pool
into which these disparate streams of your life can flow and mingle,
and if you will show up to that page every day,
you will start to teach yourself how to put things together.
Now, some of us do that through exercise, and some of us do it through meditation,
and some do it through service,
and some of us do it in conversation with people that we trust.
But it is this showing up,
this regular showing up to this place
where you've hospitably cleared the way for stuff to come together and teach you
that produces this result.
Now, I found after the novelty wore off that I didn't really like this,
because the stuff that was showing up on the page made me anxious.
I don't want to look at my own emotional seaweed.
I don't want to look at how slowly things are coming together.
I don't want constant reminders that I'm behind the curve
and my friends are getting ahead.
I don't like the mirror, and I don't want too much reality,
and this page was a lot of both.
(Laughter)
But when I overcame that resistance and kept showing up,
I began to build something like a practice
that started to drop me down to a deeper connection with life.
And that was affirmed when life got urgent and other demands stepped in the way
and I stepped away from that practice
and I noticed that dimensions started to shut down.
I found myself getting impatient,
more inclined to complain,
and sarcasm and taking less delight in other people's success.
This showing up at the page every day
became critical to what we might call mental health; it's what kept me going.
So this idea of showing up,
showing up and overcoming resistance,
don't care about the fact that you're not moving fast enough,
don't let the big that you aspire to
be a barrier to the small that's going to get you there.
And then what happens is another connection occurs:
a business man and teacher
who had seen a little retreat that I did at the Seton Cove Center
called and said,
"I'm starting a new business school,
and we're going to try to care for the students
who come back to school because they're confused and disappointed
and they really need to find a way to put their lives together more powerfully,
and I want you to teach a class for us called 'Life of Meaning.'"
And I said, "I'm in."
And I showed up for this class,
and the students loved the idea of finding a calling,
and they know about the parts of themselves
that they've cut off and discarded
and sacrificed for the sake of their narrow notions of success.
They just don't know how to make this bigger thing happen
in light of constraints they face.
So they start coming up to me in about the third session of the class,
and they say, "Yes, I want a calling.
Yes, I want this kind of integration.
I want to play big, but I'm afraid I won't make enough money if I do that."
So what we do next is we do a little exercise:
How much do you need?
They go home with their spreadsheets, they work together, they come back,
and most of them find
that it's surprising less than they thought.
In fact, there's a whole degree of freedom that's available to them,
so immediately they react and say,
"I'm cool with that, but my spouse would never go for it."
(Laughter)
So then we ask each other,
"When was the last time you talked to your mate
about what it is that you all are doing together?"
And although we don't do this at the height of graduate school
when the mate is doing the dishes - we'd saved this for one of the breaks -
they come back and say,
"It was one of the best conversations we've had."
And these degrees of freedom start to open,
and when they open,
the students see, "I can do more than I thought."
And the magic payoff of an extra degree of freedom
is you suddenly see needs that before you were blind to.
We are defended against big challenges
that we don't believe we can do anything about
because it's just painful to see them.
But as we create degrees of freedom, more room to maneuver,
when we simplify our life and realize I can get by with a little less money,
I realize that some of my notions about my relationships
could be rethought -
all of a sudden, this freedom pays off
and the ability to see things that we couldn't see before.
So my students then challenge themselves:
How can I overcome my addictions?
How can I renegotiate relationships?
How can I free other people of my felt need to have them affirm me?
How do I get the degrees of freedom
to go further in the direction of this thing that's proving reliable?
I went back to see Will Spong, and I said,
"Tell me what to do about homeless people.
When I pass them on the street, do I give them money or not?
Whatever you say, I'll do."
(Laughter)
He said, "Why are you so worked up about this?
It doesn't matter whether you give them money or not.
What matters is, look in their eyes because that's where the answer is."
I said, "I don't want to do that; that's creepy."
(Laughter)
He said, "Well, stop complaining about this then.
I'm telling you, this is what you're trying to accomplish."
So I started doing it.
I'd walk down the drag; if someone asked for money,
I'd just look in their eyes.
And sometimes I gave them money.
Sometimes I said, "Friend, I don't have anything for you today."
And one time, I took a guy and bought him a bus ticket
to a place I wasn't even sure existed.
And sometimes I'd sit on the stoop over at the Baptist church,
and they'll tell me jokes and -
Things happen that are unpredictable.
And then one day,
I was at the intersection with one of the people who will work for food.
We looked at each other: I looked at him and he looked at me.
I'd just come from the grocery story, and I had a pop-top can of tuna.
I don't know what possessed me,
I just reached in and got it and handed it to him,
and he looked at me, stunned and surprised,
and then we laughed
because, like, somehow we had beaten the racket.
(Laughter)
There had been this, like, human connection.
I was so excited that when I got home I told Eugene the whole story,
and he got excited, and we both started carrying tuna around in our car.
(Laughter)
We told friends about this,
and the next thing you know, we're part of this informal tuna network
of people who are playing big in this weird improvisational way.
And I wonder, when we start to see things and really look at them,
playing big becomes about something else.
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke stayed with Auguste Rodin in Paris for a while.
And you can only imagine how this vexed Rodin -
you know, an established, mature artist -
to have this kid running around who's trying to prove himself
and anxious to be recognized for his genius,
and it's just not happening; his poetry is just too self-absorbed and silly.
And finally, Rodin picks him up by the scruff of the neck
and says, "Go to the Paris zoo and pick an animal
and stare at that animal until you can't help but write.
And wait till the very last moment;
don't give in to that early urge but hold off until you can't help it."
And of course, Rilke picked the panther,
and of course,
the result is the beautiful, deeper poem that launched his career.
If you want to play big,
we've got to cultivate the habit of staring at things until they inspire us.
Not until we get that first itch -
ah, this is the silver bullet, this is my quick fix,
this is the shot of cortisone,
I know what to do,
just do it -
but sit and let it inform us until it becomes in us what it has to be.
I think about this.
When you spot something that might be your missing piece,
you know how it feels,
that excitement, that exhilaration, that romantic attachment,
that instant sense of possibility?
It's like falling in love, and you want it now,
and you want to do something impetuous and passionate,
and it's not such a good idea.
(Laughter)
It's not such a good idea
because if what you really want is to marry part of yourself,
you want to take that thing on a couple of dates first.
(Laughter)
You want to listen to it, let it inform you.
Our fantasies are a first offer,
and they've got to get past the screen that wants the quick fix.
So when I heard we're going to talk about playing big,
I started thinking to myself,
What is playing big?
Because there's a way of thinking about it that's heroic -
the one big roll of the dice,
putting it all out there,
doing something bold and courageous -
that is often driven by our deficits,
that's often trying to escape the truth,
that's often a response to mortality and denying death
and just trying to keep ourselves out of having to face what's real.
And there's this organic way of playing big
that's really about practice,
it's about paying attention,
it's about not discarding,
it's about leading with what you love,
it's about making degrees of freedom
so the work that the world wants to do through you can happen.
And as I sit at this point in my life, trying to decide what to do next,
I find myself drawn to the folks that are half a generation ahead of me.
Some of them seem so disappointed and bitter
that life has not given them what they deserve,
and they're still waiting for a silver bullet,
and they've been playing with a particular kind of charisma
that's starting to play out at this point in their life.
And they didn't get what they wanted.
And there are other people,
other people that you can see survived,
survived intact;
they came through this adventure with so much of themselves
that they still have spiritual flexibility,
they still have moral authority,
they still have a capacity for joy.
On their faces, you can see all kinds of lines of emotion
because they're capable of showing and expressing them.
And that's what I want.
That's what I want.
For me, playing big is about practicing smart,
it's about showing up,
it's about not discarding,
it's about leading with what you love.
Because then you have the joy of seeing and feeling and doing
what the world wants to make through you.
Thank you.
(Applause)