What can you say Mother?

Often when I ask people who are the leaders they admire, along with the usual suspects of Peter Blake, Nelson Mandela and Ghandi we often hear “my mother” or “my father”. We also hear about that other mother, Mother Teresa.

I’m reading essays by Christopher Hitchens who is pretty unflattering about Mother Teresa and accuses her of stage-managing images of poverty to ensure that those who were in poverty, stayed there, even when in her care ie the places she set up, even in America, were stripped of all possible trappings of normal civility.

Lately I have realised that the phrase authentic leadership development is absurd. It’s discovery. Running alongside the idea of authenticity in a parallel, but not necessarily the same universe is the concept of personal branding. Develop your personal brand ladies and gentlemen so people know not only who you are, what you stand for but also what you’re really about.

Is that authentic? Or is it marketing spin? Was Mother Teresa an authentic leader? Or did she simply have a brand of poverty that gave her followers? Does it matter?

Only you know that. Mother Theresa can’t answer that. If, like me, you’re fortunate enough to have a mother you could ask, I’d hazard a guess that she wouldn’t give you much of an answer though. My mother never branded or got told how to brand. But I know what she stands for. So does she.

That’s important I reckon.

Lighting a torch

Tim and I went shopping this weekend in preparation for our 6 days camping on the Essentially Men father/son retreat. We bought polyprop tops, camping lights, a new pocket knife (as instructed) for Tim and torches.

My good friend Nigel phoned from Christchurch this afternoon to suggest that one of the most valuable pieces of equipment we could bring was a head lamp: “when it’s dark on camp it’s dark, so you can do whatever you want with a torch strapped to your head”.

This retreat has been a long-time coming and Tim has been very brave in agreeing to go into the unknown with me and a group of other guys.

I’m excited and apprehensive. My hope this week is that Tim sees the way forward from boy to young man. It’ll be big for me too I’m sure.

We’ve got those head lamps ready.

See you in a week.

Stephen

How do you value your values?

I wrote previously about values, talking about keeping the curtains open so the burglar couldn’t operate without being seen from the street. A new awareness has grown in me recently about values, especially those that have scant regard for them. Sometimes when we run courses we have the groups define the values that they will live by for the duration of the course. This is a useful check on behaviours and like everything we do on-course, something the participants can take back to home and work.

But what about our own values? Do we write a list of them and make sure we’re living by them? I doubt it and here’s why. They’re deep inside. The true values are us. Like not defining ourselves, we don’t need to record, define or articulate them to ourselves. But like the burglar who sneaks into the curtained back street office  to steal valuables, we need to make sure the curtains are open on our values. By stealth and manipulation, others less attracted to a value-centred life will rip them out if it suits them when you are vulnerable.

So why am I on about this now? In the last month several people we know have been in vulnerable positions financially. This is not uncommon now with the economy in a fragile state and business tight in many sectors. They have, each of them, been separately manipulated into positions through rumour and misinformation where they have had to make business decisions in order to survive. These are decisions that they do not wish to make, they are decisions that go against their own values, but they’ve done it to survive.

I can understand people in dire circumstances of famine commiting offences to feed their family. We see that often in Tsunamis, hurricanes and the like. All is lost and survival hangs by a thread. I do not know the personal circumstances of the people sufficiently to judge whether or not that might be their situation. And I won’t judge. But what I see is sad.

When you allow your values to be stolen for money you better hope that you can afford to buy some more from somewhere else.  I don’t reckon the thief will give you any back. Trouble is though, money can’t buy values. Strange isn’t it – you can sell them, but can’t buy them.

How do you value your values?


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Why is your Whanau not in the Wharekai?

Some random thoughts are swirling around me right now and will hopefully gain some structure as I write. It’s been a big weekend. My teenage son Tim was staying with me although I abandoned him on Friday night for dinner at the Committee for Auckland’s Future Leaders Programme opening held at the Wharekai on the Orakei Marae. I lived in Orakei in the 1990s but had never experienced the spectacular views out, and feeling in, of the Marae.  Children intermingled with the adults and speakers, unimpressed, or should I say unchanged, by our presence.

Saturday morning is my long run-day – Scenic Drive beckoned and so a trot from the shops at Titirangi to Mountain Road and return was done. Saturday evening was for a good friends 40th and a speech in which he declared “The one thing I haven’t been doing right is spending time with each and everyone of you.  That is going to change”.

Sunday morning was back to the Marae where we delivered our introduction to the Programme for the Leadership workshops that the Centre for Innovative Leadership is now privileged to be delivering for this cohort. We talked about trust, about authenticity – “it’s actually a really simple concept” said one participant and then added “but hard”. So we’re excited about the opportunity of working with this group of senior leaders. I very much look forward to growing with them and being a part of their journey.  Go well!

A university get-together at lunch and at 3.00pm I finally set eyes properly on Tim. Selfish? Too busy? Guilty your honour.

This evening I visited Pathways to Manhood to discuss the upcoming retreat that Tim and I are going to go on in April. Whatever we do, feedback, reflection, timeout and sharing quality time with family are important. Yeah, good words, what about the weekend?  “I’ll take Tim to dinner tonight”.  “Is that to make up for the time you didn’t spend with him in the weekend?”

It is actually. Are your Whānau good enough for the Wharekai? Of course they are. Be there. It means everything. Sorry Tim.

Dad.


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