CONTRAILS

iPods on the Subway: Making A Soundtrack for Your Life

I love the subway, especially in NYC – the variety and spice, smells and sounds attack and challenge all the senses and evoke every emotion. Today, I got on at Wall Street and off at Penn Station – a 15 minute ride or so...I had my iPod on and was listening to a combination of Van Morrision, John Mayer and I think a Tom Petty song as well – generally mellow, rhythmic and soulful songs with ponderous lyrics. These fit my mood well – I had spent the day racing around NYC for a variety of meetings, and was tired, but satisfied with the day’s achievements and that I had done my part to make the world a better place for the day. 

I looked around at the other faces and bodies on the subway; the young hotshot bankers in expensive suits; the off duty policeman; the immigrant family and the deliberately angry city kids. So many stories, dreams and as many heartbreaks. You can really feel people’s emotions on the subway...people let their guard down in a strange way once they sit down – they focus internally and with little else to do but watch the stations go by, I feel that there is a meditative state the people enter which you can tune into, especially at the end of a long day where the weariness further erodes people’s ability to hold up the façade that life is anything but a daily struggle to do your best to overcome.

I noted a number of other people also listening to iPods or the like...I found myself wondering what kinds of music they might be choosing to be the soundtrack to their life...happy or sad, fast or slow, painful or playful. I think everyone should have a soundtrack to their life – it makes everything seem that much more vital, more connected and elevates even the little pieces of life to a meaningful status. In the movies, as the characters are driving around town with the soundtrack playing, a task we all do each day with little fanfare or meaning, the cruising makes sense as a backdrop to where the actors are going to, or coming from and alerts us to any danger, excitement or emotions that the scene is meant to portray...music smooths over the voids that normally fill our life and give the little pieces meaning and cohesion. These pieces have meaning in our lives too, but its hard to remember that without the music playing...

Perhaps by choosing your own soundtrack, one can choose their response to all of life, both the mundane and meaningful, and shape a persona and path that is uniquely their’s. Perhaps. So fire up the iPod and put together your soundtrack – make it real, make it your’s, and make it loud.

Vision, Vegas Style

I just returned from my annual pilgrimage to Las Vegas. Each visit follows a precictable set of stages (I am currently in the “recovery” phase). First, there is the excitement of arriving. I still recall my first visit to Vegas in the early 1970’s. We were flying in from the East Coast at night. I peered out the window into the vast Nevada night, nearly as dark as it is landing on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of the night. Finally, off in the distance lights appeared – as the plane got closer, the surreal image of a city sprung out of no where began to appear, much like what I imagine a moon base station will look like someday. And this way back when the Las Vegas Hilton was the major hotel…the unindoctrinated arrivee today must truly be aghast at the conspicuous consumption of electricity the city devours.

As soon as you exit the plane, you quickly enter the shock phase. The clanging of the slot machines and the gaudiness of the show posters (Wayne Newton still has one, that hasn’t changed), and finally, the magnitude of the hotels. The latter still shocks me, more now than ever in fact. You drive down the strip…Treasure Island, the new Wynn, the MGM, the Bellagio and a few dozen more. This time I stayed at the Venetian which inexplicably took Vegas to a new level for me.

After a few hours of sensory overload, the innovator and capitalist in me begins to take over and I enter the most profound and enjoyable phase of the process which is pure appreciation and marvel at the audacity of Bugsy Malone and all that have followed in his footsteps. There is nothing small about Vegas. Everything is over the top and no one apologizes for it. In a land of timidity and sameness, Vegas is a bastion of originality, dreams and pure Americana gone wild. I wish I could have been in the meeting where the founders of the Venetian said “oh yes, and then we’ll put an entire canal system inside the hotel, complete with Italian gondaliers”. And the best part is they did it, and it works.

Unfortunately, this phase ends and one then enters into the “hog wild” phase which is what the entire system is predicated and for which the bottom line of Vegas eagerly awaits. The call of the blackjack table, the scores of fine restaurants, $100 shows and the perpetual night clubs overwhelms the rationale mind and one begins to imagine being a rock star living this lifestyle for years on end. Unfortunately, few have the money or liver to pursue this line of work, and on the second or third morning of too little sleep, and too much cheap casino gin (I dare not say free, because if you amortize your losses over those relatively few drinks, they get expensive very quickly – alas, another wonderful Vegas mechanism), you begin to yearn for the pedestrian life of home, work and sleep.

That is when the recovery phase begins - I will let you know when that ends. However, I am sure that sometime in the next few months, the itch phase will start again, but for now, I hold Vegas in my fond memories, much less for having taken my money, and more for having done it with such singular focus and creativity.

The Folly of New Years Resolutions

The passing of a year and the breaking in of a new, pristine calendar hold some mystical powers over me, and I would guess, many others as well.  There is a fresh promise of a better you, the myriad promises of more exercise, a new career move or in my case, more blogging and writing in general. 

Each year, as the final days of December approach, basking in having survived another Christmas (or Holidays, depending on your level of P.C. savvyness) all futures seem possible, even probable.  Alas, we all arrive back at our jobs after the hangovers subside (alcohol or otherwise)  and we fall back into familiar routines and once again start flipping pages of our day planners hoping for some divine intervention in our lives and bringing to us the perfect alchemy of happiness.

This sounds more downbeat than it needs to...I am actually a strong believer in personal change, but I have come to realize it takes more than a two day blitzkrieg of karmic reprogramming - it actually takes hard work and a real desire to shift.  The vision of the new you often comes pouring in full and rich, but the implementation of change is long and hard, and unfortunately often about tradeoffs - you have to work the equation to determine what falls out when a new thing needs birthed.

For me, I am increasingly being called to write (about what, and to whom, it is not yet clear) and therefore I have to find the time, space and resource to support this calling.  But mostly I need the courage to pursue this path as God only knows how many folks out there think they can make a living as a writer. 

These probabilities aside, I do think that it is the process, and the commitment that makes the personal shifting worth doing.  As has oft been said, it turns out to be much more about the journey than the destination and the desire to take the back roads, a new route to a familiar place, is strong in each of us.

Golf Lessons

I have become addicted to golf – there you have it, I’ve finally said it.  I am not sure when or how it happened, but I find myself practicing my swing while standing in grocery lines. I have a putting gadget in my office where many a competition is now held, and I find metaphors in my every day life that apply to golf, and vice versa.  I suppose there are worse things…

Of course, I recall (as Julie won’t let me forget) a time about 10 years ago when I was less sanguine about the notion of chasing a little white ball down a long patch of green grass for four hours.  Julie was driving me into NAS Miramar for one of my routine early morning flight briefs; I can’t recall now why she was driving me, perhaps we had been at the Officer’s Club late the previous night, or more likely my Jeep was broken again.  Anyhow, we went in the West Gate which brought you along the golf course, the 5^th or 6^th hole I believe.  Anyhow, it is around 6.30am (late for flight briefs, but early for golf!) and there are four older gentlemen (ancient, in fact) who would hustle along whack at their ball, then move along briskly again, and repeat…

I watched them for the few moments that we were passing alongside, and I shook my head in tired bewilderment and said to Julie or myself, not sure at this point, “I may have lots of bad habits and vices, but golf will never be one of them”.  Well, fast forward to today and on any much too in-frequent morning that I am fortunate enough to be able to get up early to go play, I am reminded of this prognosticational error.

I have come to truly love all that golf represents; the beauty and creativity of course design; the fact that it is a sport where honesty and self-governance are not only accepted, but expected; that any two people can play against one another and have a competitive match no matter the difference in skill level; and that there is a tradition and respect for history that transcend any modern day fads or contemporary pressures.

Golf is also a game that you can play your entire life, quite unlike the sports of my youth like wrestling, soccer and football.  I only wish I had taken the game up earlier but I rationalize that I would be missing the joy of discovering it in my mid-years and the camaraderie that comes with a group of guys out for a round of golf and the natural sophomoric behaviour that it entails.

Now to be sure, golf has its detractors; it is expensive and can be time consuming.  Country clubs further the economic stratification we struggle with in America.  And then there are the whispering commentators on TV with their endless diatribes about how fast the greens are at Augusta, or how badly a player must have hit the ball to leave it 12 feet above the hole. 

But all in, I have come to believe that golf is truly a transcendental pursuit where some time spent on the range, course or in the pub after a round (regardless of the score) makes one a better person.  Check out my suggested readings while I head off to the driving range hoping that I won’t get struck by lighting as I work on my slice.

The Elements of Greatness

I went to see U2 last night…I have always wanted to see them live, and was not disappointed. The whole show was in a word, crisp! From the energetic explosion onto the stage, to the ultra-dynamic lighting gear, to the seamless song transitions and purity of Edge’s raspy guitar and Larry Mullen, Jr’s entrancing drum beats, and ultimately, to the absolutely elegant final song, it was in Bostonspeak, “wicked-good”.

Bono is one of the few celebrities who seem able to interleave deep political messaging with pure entertainment, and not leave you with a  cheap feeling in the pit of your stomach. Much of his engagement with the audience was around topics of great import; solving extreme poverty (though, is there some other kind?), war and disease. At one point in the show, he asked everyone to hold up their mobile phones as a symbol of solidarity, and soon the Fleet Center was aglow with thousands upon thousands of mobile phones in a high-tech redux of the cigarette lighters of my youth.

In a world of increasing sameness, the whole experience was so very refreshing. And in comparing the animal gravitas of U2 with that of their highly forgettable opening act (granted, it is a tough role), it provided such a stark contrast that it made me wonder about what is it that makes a rare few great at what they do? To be sure, these are four guys who are really good at what they do and who are supported by scores of entourage who make things happen; and sure, they are famous and have made tons of money. But U2 are clearly more than just rock stars; they are artists, philosophers, and ultimately, innovators. And I think it is these rare such examples of passion-intersecting-purpose-intersecting-potential that drives us all to imagine, and reach for, our own better selves.

Welcome to Contrails!

Well, I finally did it! I have officially joined the masses of online bloggers.  The impetus of this whole notion stems from a few years ago as I started collecting anecdotes from my younger days flying fighters in the Navy (much more on that in future posts) and how the lessons I had learned there surviving, and performing in a high stress environment, have helped me be successful in other aspects of my life.   

The working title for this whole compilation was originally The Fighter Pilot's Guide to Business (unconsciously inspired I suppose by my favorite book of all time, and the worthy recipient of my first blog-link, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy).  However, as the list of ideas grew, and the various threads of my life became ever more intertwined, I realized that this was to be about more than mere Business...nay, it had to also be about Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, and my experiences with each. 

Thus Contrails made perfect sense. I have always been intrigued by contrails; they are part art, part science.  They start crisp and sure, only to be pushed to and fro, diffused by the winds of change.  They are tell-tale signs of a metal tube flying nearly the speed of sound, high above, taking people to important meetings with colleagues and loved ones.  They also have special tactical importance in the fighter pilot tactical dogma as it is important that one avoid creating contrails as they signal ones presence and maneuvers.  So, just as contrails mark the passing of a jet with their lines carved against the blue sky, so will my words against these pages background mark my life’s path and ideas.

I would also be remiss if I did not recognize the real inspiration for my entering the blogosphere, Diego Rodriguez.  Diego is a design genius and the creative force behind one of the best blogs around, metacool.  His thought provoking ramblings have taught and entertained me, and during a recent brainstorm at his workspace at IDEO in Palo Alto, Diego prodded, chided and ultimately convinced me that I needed to blog, or in his words "To blog is to live..." or something like that.

So Diego, along with his Alter Ego of Innovation, Alex Kazaks, helped me brainstorm various names and themes for this blog.  More later about these guys and what they are doing at Stanford's d.school.  Anyhow, a few of my more favorite runners up:

            * SonicBlog
            * AfterburnerBusiness
            * Dogfight

        And my most favorite:

            * TOPGUN to Bottom Rung - BLOG of a Fighter Pilot turned VC

So I guess this last entry about sums up my life thus far, so I look forward to sharing the flight path that brought me to this point, and my  plans for the future, with you all.  Jim out.