Memento Mori

<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ro-GueYLeEc/YPloI87dgsI/AAAAAAABU1s/M9CIwDpWiOcuRDbHVN0-er-QDclYItl1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/Manuel%2BDom%25C3%25ADnguez%2BS%25C3%25A1nchez%2B-%2BThe%2BSuicide%2Bof%2BSeneca%2B%25281871%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="1920" height="384" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ro-GueYLeEc/YPloI87dgsI/AAAAAAABU1s/M9CIwDpWiOcuRDbHVN0-er-QDclYItl1gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h384/Manuel%2BDom%25C3%25ADnguez%2BS%25C3%25A1nchez%2B-%2BThe%2BSuicide%2Bof%2BSeneca%2B%25281871%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Manuel_Dom%C3%ADnguez_S%C3%A1nchez_-_El_suicidio_de_S%C3%A9neca.jpg">The Death of Seneca</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> by Manuel Domínguez Sánchez, 1871 (public domain - Wikipedia) </span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /><hr /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong><br />“Everlasting misfortune does have one blessing, that it ends up by toughening those whom it constantly afflicts.</strong><b>”</b> </em></strong></em></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Seneca, 42<br /><br /></em></div><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>I didn’t intend to write about suicide this week.</p><p>But that’s the thing about suicide: for those who must live in its aftermath, it is never an expected occurrence.</p><p>This week, we had to break the news to our 17 year-old son that <strong><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/vinnie-marroni-miracle-assist-foundation">a longtime friend of his died by suicide</a></strong> late last week. It was devastating for us, as we had known him since he was about 10.</p><p>In addition to our sorrow over the loss, we were heartbroken for our son, who had a tough time processing it as well. A parent’s instinct is always to protect their child, and in this instance, there was nothing we could do to protect him from the pain.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>I don’t know that I have any words of wisdom about suicide. This is something that humans have been grappling with for millennia, so all I can do is offer some observations that connect it to what I write about here: leadership and communication.</p><p>Parenting is leadership. Our children are like the next wave of managers that we train — the most important job of a leader is preparing the next generation of leaders — and every day, through our actions (taken or untaken) and words (spoken or unspoken), we demonstrate what we expect of them.</p><p>So when it comes to dealing with suicide, we help them grapple not only with the loss of a friend, but with the topic itself, in an effort to understand it.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Death is a part of life. Indeed, the leading cause of death is birth. The title of today’s newsletter, “<em><strong>Memento Mori</strong></em>,” (remember that you die) is the phrase chariot drivers whispered to commanders on parade in Ancient Rome. And it has become the unofficial motto of Stoic philosophy.</p><p><em>Memento mori</em> serves as a powerful reminder that our time here is limited, and that death is inevitable for every last one of us.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2><strong>The Facts of Death</strong></h2><p>With suicide rising as a cause of death—since 1999, suicide rates have <strong><a href="https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2020/01/30/u-s-suicide-rate-rose-again-2018-how-can-suicide-prevention-save-lives/4616479002/">risen by 35 percent</a></strong>—even before the pandemic, it is part of our collective experience.</p><p>Typical emotional markers for suicide include depression, lack of interest in activities once enjoyed, irritability, anger, anxiety, shame or humiliation, and mood swings. The natural assumption would be that COVID-19 led to an increase in suicide, but <strong><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8110323/">that wasn’t the case</a></strong>.  After a steady increase for 20 years, it would seem that suicide rates are already high.</p><p>I’ve lost many friends, family members, and associates (online and offline) to cancer, heart attacks, and accidents. A few of my online friends have died by suicide as well, driven by struggles of mental health.</p><p>We freely talk about the importance of cancer screenings and of healthy habits to impact our heart health, but we’re skittish about the topic of mental health. Mental health is stigmatized. But guess what?</p><p>Mental health <em>is</em> health.</p><p>It is the health of the most important organ in your body: your brain. And just like there are heart diseases caused by the body not producing the proper amount of certain enzymes, there are diseases associated with our brains caused by the body not producing the proper amount of certain chemicals or electrolytes.</p><p>And yet we treat people who seek mental health services as if they should be ashamed of it.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2><strong>Shame on Who?</strong></h2><p>While it initially seemed odd to tackle the topic of suicide with you, I thought back to last week’s newsletter, in which I explored the concept of <strong><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2021/07/have-you-no-shame.html">shame</a></strong> and its connection to duty, honor, and accountability.</p><p>And as I reflected on Sánchez’s painting above, I was reminded of the long tradition of <em><strong>honor suicide</strong></em>: when a person chooses suicide to escape the shame of an immoral or dishonorable action.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“I believe that no man ever threw away life while it was worth keeping.” </strong></em></strong></em></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— David Hume, 1755</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>In such cases, the suicide itself wasn’t considered dishonorable; it was a natural way to leave the earth after experiencing something that would have been difficult to live with.</p><p>Seneca was a prime example of that. As Nero’s tutor, he tried to steer the youth clear of certain tendencies. Ultimately, he fell afoul of the emperor and had to take his own life. More on <strong>accountability </strong>and Seneca’s choice <strong><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2021/01/leaders-need-to-be-accountable.html">here</a></strong>.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"><br /></pre></div><p>As Hume implied, we all have different ways of considering what our lives are worth. Whether it is an ancient philosopher, a World War II kamikaze pilot, or a troubled teen, each knows their value and breaking point.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2><strong>Parental Advice</strong></h2><p>The most difficult part in absorbing this suicide close to our family is the feelings of hurt we have for our son, and knowing the right thing to say.</p><p>Above all, whether a parent or a leader, the most important communication skill you can bring to any relationship is <strong><a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2019/10/the-liberation-of-listening.html">listening</a></strong>.</p><p>We let our son know that we are always there for him, available to listen whenever he wants to talk to us. Or, if he doesn’t feel comfortable talking to us, we can find someone who will listen to him. Call this <em>memento audiere</em>.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>The other is to encourage <strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/the-transparency-of-innovation">transparency</a></strong>. We encouraged him to talk about his friend, memories of them together, and any feelings he has about the situation. The more we talk together, the more we can be aware of what our needs are. <em>Memento loqui</em>.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Ultimately, there is only so much within your power to <strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/control">control</a></strong>. In expressing our sorrow and pity for his friend, we reminded our son that this was ultimately his friend’s choice. There are certain things that are beyond our control.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Like any struggle, I keep telling myself and my son that this is temporary. There will be times when it eases up, receding like the remnants of a wave, then moments again when it crashes to shore.</p><p>This is just part of the process.</p><p>Part of growing up.</p><p>Part of life.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.</p><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure> </figure></div><div><hr /></div><p>In Friday’s newsletter, I’ll be writing about my first experience with suicide, how it shaped me, a teenager's canny lyrics about the topic, and I’ll share some links—both timeless and timely—about grappling with suicide. Be sure to sign up as a Premium subscriber so you can read it.</p><p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"%%checkout_url%%","text":"Subscribe now","class":null}">Meanwhile, I've opened this essay, “<strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/cycles">Cycles</a></strong>,” that was previously available only to Premium subscribers. Feel free to read and share it.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />👉 Premium Members receive an additional related essay, plus curated links and stories, and audio and book recommendations every Friday.<br /></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;">Join the club by signing up below:</div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe data-dashlane-frameid="9847" frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://www.timelesstimely.com/embed" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></p>

Memento Mori

The Death of Seneca  by Manuel Domínguez Sánchez, 1871 (public domain - Wikipedia)  “Everlasting misfortune does have one blessing, that it...

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Have You No Shame?

<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VkQAYpWRn4I/YO-x_LboGQI/AAAAAAABUyM/BQeWGwQUrm4dPWMKrvm8N6G9IG6ft0FNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/Thomas%2BRowlandson%2B-%2BThe%2BBurning%2BShame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="731" data-original-width="1024" height="456" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VkQAYpWRn4I/YO-x_LboGQI/AAAAAAABUyM/BQeWGwQUrm4dPWMKrvm8N6G9IG6ft0FNwCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h456/Thomas%2BRowlandson%2B-%2BThe%2BBurning%2BShame.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Burning_Shame_-_MET_DP88060.jpg">The Burning Shame</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> by Thomas Rowlandson, 1809 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons, </span><a href="https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/deed.en" style="text-align: left;">CC0 1.0</a><span style="text-align: left;">)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><em><strong>“I am no longer good through deliberate intent, but by long habit have reached a point where I am not only able to do right, but am unable to do anything but what is right.”</strong></em></strong></em></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><em>— Seneca, 65</em></div><em><br /></em><p></p><div><hr /></div><p><br />Every day, I’m amazed at how many people view the world in absolutes.</p><p>We have so much information at our fingertips, accessible through a few swipes or clicks on supercomputers we hold in our hands.</p><p>Gone are the days that required a trek to the local library, thumbing through the card catalog, where thousands of cards held the secrets of our collective knowledge, held in a warm embrace by shiny oak drawers and cold a metal spindle.</p><p>No longer do we need an understanding of the Dewey Decimal System.</p><p><br /></p><p>And yet, with the ability to connect to individuals and information anywhere across the globe in the blink of an eye, we seem more clueless than ever.</p><p>Social media, once the promised land of digital discourse and avowed “public square” of conversation, has devolved into shouting matches, untamed trolls who no longer live only beneath bridges, and personal attacks that range from merely cruel to outright dangerous and even illegal.</p><p>In the digital world, familiarity—passing or otherwise—does indeed breed contempt. This is unfortunate, as it ought to breed empathy, with our awareness that there are billions of individual stories and perspectives out there, each with its own set of struggles.</p><p>But it’s simply easier to sort and categorize in one of two buckets. Pro or con. Good or evil. My side or your side.</p><p>Somewhere out there, we need to be seeking common ground.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2><strong>Moral Absolutes</strong></h2><p>This week, <strong><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/13/us/politics/biden-voting-philadelphia.html">President Biden tried to find common ground</a></strong> in a speech on voting rights that are supposed to be afforded to us all under the Constitution (and under subsequent legislation). In doing so, he appealed to the better angels of those who seek to restrict voting by asking,<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><em><b><span style="font-size: large;">“Have you no shame?”</span></b></em></p><div class="preformatted-block"><div style="text-align: center;"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label></div><p> </p></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">That phrase stood out to me.</p><p>It is reminiscent of the phrase used by <strong>Joseph Welch</strong>, a Boston lawyer representing the Army at the McCarthy hearings in the Senate. On June 9, 1954 Welch stood up to the bullying senator live on national television, saying, “<strong><a href="https://www.happyscribe.com/public/it-was-said/ep-6-edward-r#paragraph_2263?utm_source=public_transcript&utm_medium=paragraph&utm_campaign=public_promo">At long last, have you no sense of decency?</a></strong>”</p><p>Whether asking about shame or decency, it is an arresting question. It pierces the veil of any argument and asks us to consider the dignity of our fellow citizens.</p><p>Here’s the thing about shame: it requires you to have a conscience—to feel as if you are breaking a code, whether it’s personal or collective.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--LftQIhG6Pk/YO-ymx-t6SI/AAAAAAABUyU/UgrTiod0HUEboNPtSiGpOsaSm-GGJ4qgwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/SHame.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="1200" height="224" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--LftQIhG6Pk/YO-ymx-t6SI/AAAAAAABUyU/UgrTiod0HUEboNPtSiGpOsaSm-GGJ4qgwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h224/SHame.gif" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><em><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“It is not for outward show that the soul is to play its part, but for ourselves within, where no eyes can pierce but our own; there she defends us from the fear of death, of pain, of shame itself”</strong></em></div></em><p style="text-align: right;"><em> — Michel de Montaigne, 1580</em></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>A sense of shame is the mirror image of a sense of honor. If you fall short of your ideal (or the ideal of a community), you feel shame.</p><p>If you have a sense of virtue or integrity, that is.</p><p>When <strong>Horace </strong>wrote the third of his <em>Odes</em> in 23 BC, he made it clear that our better angels should triumph over our impulses:</p><blockquote><p><em><strong>“Virtue, repudiating all base repulse, shines in taintless<br />honors, nor takes nor leaves dignity at the mere will of the<br />vulgar.”</strong></em></p></blockquote><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>In an ideal world, achieving that level of inner victory would be easy.</p><p>In reality, when it comes to our moral responsibility—to our family, our employees, or even our country—there will always be competing forces that require us to make choices.</p><p>Choosing to place a family member in childcare (or eldercare) versus keeping them at home is not an easy choice: it involves a financial commitment for the sake of a career or better medical attention than we can provide. Many people struggle with this decision.</p><p>Similarly, the decision to lay off a significant portion of employees in order to save an insolvent company is a gut-wrenching one for any CEO (one with a soul, at least). Do they put a percentage of people out of work, or do they prolong the dying breaths of the company until everyone is affected? Either way, there’s pain involved.</p><p>As difficult and nuanced as these decisions are, at their core they represent certain dichotomies:</p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/honor-and-duty">Duty</a></strong> or desire.<br /><br /><strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/honor-given-honor-taken">Honor</a></strong> or shame.<br /><br />Virtue or vulgarity.<br /><br /><strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/leaders-need-to-be-accountable">Accountability</a></strong> or <strong><a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/the-blame-game">blame</a></strong>.</span></p></h3><div class="preformatted-block" style="text-align: left;"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p style="text-align: left;">After the appropriate amount of soul-searching, you’ll need to choose.</p><p>And then you should be ready to answer whether or not you have shame.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.</p><p><br /></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><hr /></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><em><strong>See you again on Friday </strong></em><span style="background-color: transparent;">— </span><em><strong>but only if you're a Premium subscriber</strong></em>.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />👉 Premium Members receive an additional related essay, plus curated links and stories, and audio and book recommendations every Friday. <br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">Join the club by signing up below:</div><p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe data-dashlane-frameid="4772" frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://www.timelesstimely.com/embed" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></p>

Have You No Shame?

  The Burning Shame  by Thomas Rowlandson, 1809 (public domain - Wikimedia Commons,  CC0 1.0 ) “I am no longer good through deliberate inten...

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It's About Time

<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DIOWcm4y-10/YOcbgM0ehtI/AAAAAAABUns/4GQVaQfY30gnxUbUfQYuaBsoDhlpjBVrgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Anton%2BRaphael%2BMengs%2B-%2BThe%2BTriumph%2Bof%2BHistory%2Bover%2BTime%2B%2528Allegory_of_the_Museum_Clementinum%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1725" data-original-width="2048" height="540" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DIOWcm4y-10/YOcbgM0ehtI/AAAAAAABUns/4GQVaQfY30gnxUbUfQYuaBsoDhlpjBVrgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h540/Anton%2BRaphael%2BMengs%2B-%2BThe%2BTriumph%2Bof%2BHistory%2Bover%2BTime%2B%2528Allegory_of_the_Museum_Clementinum%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: left;">Detail from </span><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anton_Raphael_Mengs,_The_Triumph_of_History_over_Time_(Allegory_of_the_Museum_Clementinum),_ceiling_fresco_in_the_Camera_dei_Papiri,_Vatican_Library,_1772_-_M0tty.jpg">The Triumph of History Over Time</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> (Allegory of the Museum Clementinum, ceiling fresco) by Anton Raphael Mengs (public domain - Wikimedia Commons)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><div><hr /></div><blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“No preacher is listened to but time, which gives us the same train and turn of thought that elder people have in vain tried to put into our heads before.”</strong></em> </p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Jonathan Swift, 1706</em></p></blockquote><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Time is a strange thing. Our perception of time is warped (see what I did there?) but we mark it in absolutes.</p><p>We can lose track of time when we’re enjoying ourselves, or feel like time is standing still when we’re loathing our surroundings.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“Time, when it is left to itself and no definite demands are made on it, cannot be trusted to move at any recognized pace. Usually it loiters, but just when one has come to count upon its slowness, it may suddenly break into a wild irrational gallop.”</strong></em> </p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Edith Wharton, 1905</em></p></blockquote><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>For anyone with children, the phrase “The days are long but the years are short” hits home, as the daily toil of parenting can seem like a slog, but one day you realize your kids are grown up.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><blockquote><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“One day you turn around and it’s summer,</strong></em></div><em><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Next day you turn around and it’s fall.</strong></em></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>And all the winters and the springs of a lifetime—</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Whatever happened to them all?”</strong></em> </div></strong></em><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Frank Sinatra, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oD87obuUgUk&ab_channel=FrankSinatra-Topic">The September of My Years</a>, 1965</em></p></blockquote><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>As a father of a nearly-18 year-old, I feel this deeply. Now, I know you’re probably wondering how a youthful 39 year-old can have a grown son…</p><p>The classic “39 year-old” is a running gag that was first popularized by the legendary vaudeville/radio/television star Jack Benny, whose character was sensitive about his age. Thus, he bent time to his will and remained forever 39.</p><p>It’s an example of how we can use the double-edged sword of time to our advantage as leaders.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2><strong>A Quick Look Back</strong></h2><p>Yesterday marked the 6-month anniversary of the Capitol insurrection, and so my thoughts turned to that historic building.</p><p>If you visit the United States Capitol, there in the National Statuary Hall—which used to be where the House of Representatives met—over the doorway you’ll find a sculpture by Carlo Franzioni. It depicts Clio, the muse of history, riding a winged chariot called <em>The Car of History</em>.</p><p>She’s recording history in her book, as a reminder to all in that room that they were part of history and their actions and words mattered.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4iui0R_2tk0/YOcZW7UqQuI/AAAAAAABUnk/I1TQUBCTpAc9GAd_CkengUgSd7-1b_RrACLcBGAsYHQ/s600/Car%2Bof%2BHistory.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="394" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4iui0R_2tk0/YOcZW7UqQuI/AAAAAAABUnk/I1TQUBCTpAc9GAd_CkengUgSd7-1b_RrACLcBGAsYHQ/w263-h400/Car%2Bof%2BHistory.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: left;">Source: </span><a href="https://www.aoc.gov/explore-capitol-campus/art/car-history-clock" style="text-align: left;">Architect of the Capitol</a></span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p></p><p>But how often do you pause to look at works of art like this, or consider events of the past, or read of the lives and challenges of great men and women?</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“Employ your time in improving yourself by other men's writings so that you shall come easily by what others have labored hard for.”</strong></em> </p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— Socrates</em></p></blockquote><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>We seem to be too busy focusing on what's right in front of us, being distracted by notifications and more content online than we can read in 100 lifetimes. And yet, there's this wealth of wisdom just sitting there on shelves, waiting for us to uncover it.</p><p>But look at that clock again. It is a symbol—a symbol of the past, present, and future. With its two hands, it not only tells us the current time; it tells us what time it <em>was</em> and what time it <em>will become</em>.</p><p>If we spend time understanding what has happened in history—family history, corporate history, or human history—we can determine where we need to go.</p><p>The problem with life as we know it today is that we forget the reflective function of the old-fashioned clock, and therefore of time. We live our lives digitally, in the moment.</p><p>A digital watch, historian David McCullough mused, “is the perfect symbol of an imbalance in outlook in our day. It tells us only the time it is now, at this instant, as if that were all anyone would wish or need to know.” <a class="footnote-anchor" href="#footnote-1" id="footnote-anchor-1">1</a></p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2><strong>The Time-Space Conundrum</strong></h2><p>In 1953 in <em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3wroWUe">Understanding Media</a></strong></em>, Marshall McLuhan predicted the difficulty that access to instant information would lead to when he wrote,</p><blockquote><p>“<em><strong>the instantaneity of communication makes free speech and thought difficult if not impossible</strong></em>.”</p></blockquote><p>Ironically, our near-synchronous connection with each other across the globe does not translate to a common experience. While we may be connected by time, we’re not connected by space. Our disparate geographies and cultures are necessary contexts to what we read, do, and think.</p><p>And thus comes the conundrum of the debate around returning to the office with the pandemic easing.</p><p>On one hand, employees that are remote are missing out on the interaction happening between peers and colleagues in the office, and thus may be robbed of context and excluded from decisions, meetings, etc.</p><p>Alternatively, remote employees have a different relationship with time: they don’t have to spend it in a commute or shuttling from conference room to conference room. They can be more efficient by selecting the time when the do certain work.</p><p>But <a href="https://www.inc.com/gabrielle-bienasz/productivity-remote-work-employer-survey.html">45 percent of employers said productivity was down</a> with remote work, and 39 percent would fire employees who refused to return to work.</p><p>I suppose that means there ought to be a conversation about valuing time: employees valuing their employers’ time and employers valuing their employees’ time. A better balance should be possible without resorting to absolutes.</p><div><hr /></div><blockquote><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>“I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;</strong></em></div><em><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>For now hath time made me his numbering clock:</strong></em></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Show minutes, times, and hours.”</strong></em> </div></strong></em><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>— William Shakespeare, 1595</em></p></blockquote><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p>Ultimately, our relationship with time comes back to our perception of it.</p><p>As a leader, you ought to be doing all you can to share your perception with others and to use your empathy to understand their perceptions as well.</p><p>Only then will we be able to more fully appreciate the time we have with each other.</p><p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"%%checkout_url%%","text":"Subscribe now","class":null}"><br /></p><p>Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><em><strong>I'll be back on Friday </strong></em>with a subscribers-only edition that continues our exploration of time.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />👉 Premium Members receive an additional related essay, plus curated links and stories, and audio and book recommendations every Friday. And they get an audio version of this essay. Join the club by signing up below:</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe data-dashlane-frameid="1180" frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://www.timelesstimely.com/embed" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></p>

It's About Time

Detail from  The Triumph of History Over Time  (Allegory of the Museum Clementinum, ceiling fresco) by Anton Raphael Mengs (public domain - ...

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The War of the Office Worlds

<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2KpA8NX8sGk/YN9rlHGvBgI/AAAAAAABUg0/EIpJ9xbbL9Yf10jtZaKRscXT0MYqLx-4gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Lourens%2BAlma%2BTadema%2B-%2BThe%2BDeath%2Bof%2BPharaohs%2BFirstborn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1259" data-original-width="2048" height="394" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2KpA8NX8sGk/YN9rlHGvBgI/AAAAAAABUg0/EIpJ9xbbL9Yf10jtZaKRscXT0MYqLx-4gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h394/Lourens%2BAlma%2BTadema%2B-%2BThe%2BDeath%2Bof%2BPharaohs%2BFirstborn.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/nl/collectie/SK-A-2664">The Death of the Pharaoh's Firstborn</a></em><span style="text-align: left;"> by Lourens Alma Tadema, 1872 (public domain - Rijksmuseum)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="captioned-image-container" data-pm-context="[]"><figure><figcaption class="image-caption"><br /></figcaption></figure></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>“But who shall dwell in these worlds if they be inhabited?”</b></i></div><i><br /></i><div style="text-align: right;"><i>— H.G. Wells, 1898</i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div><hr /></div><p><br />The year-plus of the pandemic has given many people a chance to rethink their priorities.</p><p>Time at home, devoid of the daily commute and harried business travel, has offered us a chance to reassess where and how we spend our precious time.</p><p>And with the waning of the worst of the pandemic, leaders are faced with the formidable task of determining where and how employees will do their work.</p><p>The valuable lessons we’ve learned over the last 15 months are being tossed aside in the Great Return to Normalcy—masks off, large gatherings as if nothing ever happened—all while significant percentages of the population remain unvaccinated.</p><p>And we’re already seeing a push to return to the office full-time.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>“Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity, that no writer…expressed any idea that intelligent life might have developed there far, or indeed at all, beyond its earthly level.”</b></i></div><div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>— H.G. Wells, 1898</i></div><br /><div><div><hr /></div><p><br />Of course we want to move past our dystopian experience of the last year. But there are lessons we ought to bring with us, rather than to instinctively try to return to “normal.”</p><p>So I reached for H.G. Wells’ classic dystopian novel <em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/2Tg1dZU">The War of the Worlds</a></strong></em>, published in 1898, and found some fascinating parallels in which we might find wisdom.</p><p>While it can be classified as science fiction, the story was close enough to reality to dupe a wide audience when dramatized for radio by Orson Welles in 1939. The plot is straightforward:</p><p>Martians land on Earth and begin capturing and killing humans, destroying entire cities in the process. Humanity is defenseless against them, its artillery repelled and technological ingenuity bested by the Martians’ superior technology.</p><p>People flee, find refuge in remote locations, and amid hopelessness, suddenly find that the Martians are mysteriously dying. The cause? The simple common cold virus.</p><p>A virus stopped the nightmarish invasion.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2>The War of the 2021 World</h2><blockquote><p><em><strong>“…slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, has put upon this earth.”</strong></em></p></blockquote><p>In 2020, the increasingly frenzied pace of work—of commutes, meetings (endless meetings!), and an always-on culture—ground to a halt as much of the world sheltered in place.</p><p>We were slowed not by productivity apps, scheduling systems, or corporate-mandated mindfulness workshops, but by a virus.</p><p>Interestingly, the sudden halting of life as we knew it is much closer to what the Martians faced: they were felled by tiny organisms they didn’t account for.</p><p>For all of our technological advances, we were slowed by nature.</p><p>During that time, it gave people an opportunity to spend more time with loved ones. To reflect more. To focus on things that mattered to them. A return to nature, of sorts.</p><p>It was a great gift.</p><p><br /></p><div><hr /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>“At times I suffer from the strangest sense of detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all.”</b></i></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>— H.G. Wells, 1898</i></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><hr /></div><p><br />One would think that such a gift would be received and cherished, particularly by leaders whose employees stuck with them (and vice versa) through such a life-changing event.</p><p>It was an opportunity to test the old myth that workers couldn’t be productive from home, a long-held view by old-school managers who equated visibility with productivity. The myth was destroyed, with <strong><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5f5654b537cea057c500f59e/t/60143f05a2117e3eec3c3243/1611939604505/Wal+Bulletin+1.pdf">productivity remaining stable or even increasing</a></strong> during the pandemic.</p><p>And yet, we now see employers calling employees back to the office, eager to return to “normal.” But <strong><a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-06-01/return-to-office-employees-are-quitting-instead-of-giving-up-work-from-home">not all employees are having it</a></strong>.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><p>The challenge with a one-size-fits-all approach to work is that it doesn’t acknowledge the new reality we just emerged from: that some people fare better in remote locations. They can still connect with fellow teammates. Their stress level is lower without a commute.</p><p>Have we not learned our lesson?</p><p>Even with the harshness of a pandemic, we still see instances of companies ignoring what happened and simply pressing for life as they knew it.</p><div class="preformatted-block"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false"></label><pre class="text"> </pre></div><h2>Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera</h2><p>If you recall the story from Exodus in the Old Testament of the Bible, Moses was trying to free the Israelites from the clutches of the Pharaoh. God sent <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plagues_of_Egypt">ten plagues</a> to haunt the Egyptians, and it wasn’t until the final one—death of the firstborn of every household—that Pharaoh freed the Israelites.</p><p>But he didn’t learn his lesson; he didn’t relent. Undeterred, Pharaoh and the Egyptian army chased the Israelites to the edge of the Red Sea. With God’s help, Moses parted the water and the refugees made it across.</p><p>But the Egyptians, hellbent on reclaiming the reality they knew, followed them onto the seabed. The waters flowed back into the sea, and Pharaoh and his recovery team were drowned.</p><p>The lesson is to adapt to what we learn from our surroundings and experiences.</p><p>For as leaders, we don’t want to end up like the Martians or Pharaoh’s army.</p><p><br /></p><p>Thanks, and I’ll see you on the internet.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></p><hr style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Don’t miss the follow-up piece, “<a href="https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/our-intentionality-laid-bare">Intentionality Laid Bare</a>”</strong></em>, opened up for public access for a limited time. This subscribers-only edition continues the exploration of our post-pandemic readiness for the office.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />👉 Premium Members receive an additional related essay, plus curated links and stories, and audio and book recommendations every Friday. And they get an audio version of this essay. Join the club by signing up below:</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><iframe data-dashlane-frameid="18251" frameborder="0" height="320" scrolling="no" src="https://www.timelesstimely.com/embed" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; max-height: 450px; max-width: 100%;" width="480"></iframe></p></div></div></div>

The War of the Office Worlds

The Death of the Pharaoh's Firstborn  by Lourens Alma Tadema, 1872 (public domain - Rijksmuseum) “But who shall dwell in these worlds if...

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