The wonderful blog “Leadership Freak” had a post that I really enjoyed, and I wanted to share it.  Some terrific advice here – read it, enjoy it, and then check out the link to “Leadership Freak” at the bottom, it’s a blog that’s worth reading regularly.

10 Ways to find your greatness:

1. Embrace dissatisfaction. The path to greatness begins with discontent. Growth stops with contentment. All leaders are unhappy with something.
2. Courageously confess frustration to yourself and others you trust.
3. Face discontent with optimism. If you sink into despair, you’re done. Millions of reasons say you can’t. Find one reason you can and hang on. One good reason changes you.
4. Reach for noble goals. Tomorrows dream change you today. Does your dream inspire? If not, it’s below you.
5. *Forget balance.* Balanced people are safe, dull, and marginally effective. I have a friend who wants to teach English in China. Another couple wants to work with orphans in the same country. A third couple spends most of their spare time working with college students. They are unbalanced freaks, over-focused on serving.
6. Serve others by helping them reach noble goals.
7. Serve others so they can serve others. Exponential influence begins with multiplication not individual performance.
8. Press through fear. Your greatness is on the other side of discomfort and fear. Fear keeps you average. Your greatest fear is letting go of average so you can reach higher.
9. Surround yourself with success. Read, explore, and ask questions. I’ll never forget the day I asked a successful business man what he would do different. He said, “If I could go back, I’d take more risks.” KaPow!
10. Just start.

10 Sure Fire Ways to Find Your Greatness.

It was 6 years ago today that I posted this journal entry.

6 years ago today, Williamston Theatre moved into our home at 122 South Putnam, in Williamston, Michigan.

Amazing. The last 6 years have been pretty amazing. The company has survived many challenges and, I am amazed to say, done quite well in the economic nightmare that the world is enduring. 32 productions, with a 33rd in rehearsals as of yesterday, 9 World Premieres, with our tenth set to open in a few weeks, roughly 40 Awards and, the most important of all – an audience that has continued to grow every single season.

It’s a humbling, amazing, thing to look back on. What we hoped would work, back when I wrote the above mentioned entry, has joined the ranks of successful theatres in the state. That’s due to the amazing family of folks we’ve been lucky enough to have gather there – the actors, the designers, stage managers, directors and writers. Our apprentices, box office staff, our board members and Signature Society, the volunteeers, the audience/patrons/supporters.

Has it all been perfect? Nope. We’ve done some things wrong, I personally have made some colossal blunders along the way. (“Sure, let’s start our first season out with 8 week performance runs, let’s see if that works!”). Lord knows we’re still, always, looking for a better handle on what our audiences want, and a good balance between that, what the artists want, what will pay the bills, what will feel like work that forwards the art form in the industry. The “voice” of the company is one that I think is A) still being shaped, and B) could be evolving for many more years.

But, as I look at this day, I’m proud of the work that the folks here have done, proud to be a part of it all, and excited about what the future holds.

Have you heard of Cookie Butter?!

Okay, imagine you could take the magic of an 8 year-old kid seeing the Christmas Tree full of presents from Santa on Christmas morning, dip that feeling in butter, and then mix it with  cinnamon, sugar, and the final kick to the face that the Karate Kid delivered to the evil Cobra Kai jerk in their big climactic fight.  Pass it through a waterfall made up of the laughter of babies, and sprinkle it with the butterflies in your stomach that you got from your first kiss with someone you love.  Marinate it in that rush you get when you jump up from your seat as your team hits a game winning home-run, and knead it with the feeling you get when you find $20 in an old jacket pocket.

Blend in your favorite childhood memory, and bake it in a sunbeam that’s shining through a stained glass window onto a puppy sleeping in front of a roaring fireplace.

Once it’s warm, wrap it up with a bow made out of the sense of satisfaction you got when Kirk kicked Khan’s ass in Star Trek II.

If you did all that… it would taste like this:

And my daughter is hilarious.

She had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, and while we were waiting in the exam room, we MAY have been playing with the big-giant-magnifying-lens-on-an-extendable-arm thingy.  🙂

And, thanks to the cool Path app that I have and love for my iPhone, I snapped a fun pic of it with a cool lens filter.

And did I mention that it’s snowing on my website, thanks to WordPress?  Nice!

Howard Sherman, former head of the American Theatre Wing, reminds us that we can argue about the how, and the form, and the purpose, but in the end… Theatre Is Good.

One of my beliefs is that there are certain institutions within a community which stand for the spirit and heart of that community, there’s the church, the local football team, the local pub and the theatre.
-David Soul

I posted this entry yesterday about being grateful through change, and then was given yet another reason to be grateful when THIS happened:

As I sit here on my couch, glass of wine in hand, this is my view:

It’s one of the things I love about this time of year – sitting, late at night, the Christmas tree lit up, and just relaxing. Getting lost in thought. It takes me back to when I was a kid, and the appearance of the tree was a magical thing. It meant that magical things were afoot – presents, jolly bearded men traversing the world in a night, visits from family and friends filled with amazing food and laughing and love. Now, years later, it also reminds me of just how important the here-and-now is.

I sit here, a dog curled up on my feet. Normally they’re not allowed on the couch, but tonight I’ll make an exception. I can hear the late-night sounds of the house; the clock ticking in the kitchen, the tiny barely audible pings of the baseboard heaters as they expand and contract with the heat, down the hall one of the kids just mumbled something in their sleep, the fridge just clicked and hummed. And the Christmas tree glows quietly, reminding me of the magic in the world.

So much to be grateful for. A healthy, wonderful family. A job that challenges me, that I love. Evenings like this one, where I get to spend time with a good friend, having good conversation, and watching a play where other friends do good work.

This year is different, too. One of those parenting milestones has been reached, and a discovery that eventually comes to all of us has come to the youngest in our house. So, my son is growing up, and the magic has a different feel to it this year. Not a bad feeling, just different.

So, the Christmas tree and I contemplate each other, as we do each year.

“So,” the tree says to me, “Another Christmas.”

“It’s different this year”, I say.

“Is different bad?”

“No. It just…I don’t know. I guess it feels like something is missing.”

It’s quiet in the room. The clock ticks for nearly a full minute.

“Do you think…”, the tree asks thoughtfully, “that years from now, he’ll sit in front of me as you do, and be able to look back with love and contentment and gratitude, as you do?”

“I think so.”

“Then nothing is missing” says the tree, ”AND you’ve found something else to be grateful for.”