“A Mindful Leadership Story by Sang Lee”

Introducing My Dear Grandmother

I would like to share a personal story of the woman who raised and shaped me to be the person I am today. For most of my life, I thought she was my grandmother but I later learned she was a close friend of my maternal birth grandmother’s. So, for the purpose of this essay, when I mention my “grandmother,” I will be referring to the woman who raised me.

In 1971 when I was born, my mother had health issues and was not able to care for me. Consequently, I spent most of my childhood with my grandmother. She was my protector, defending me against my parents and two older siblings regardless of how irrational my behavior was. To this day, I have fond memories of Grandmother sneaking me food when I refused to eat with the rest of the family.

My grandmother loved me unconditionally but this is not the main point of the story. What was remarkable about her was that she was physically disabled. Unfortunately, when she was a child, she fell off a wagon and damaged her spine. As a result, she became a 4’ woman with a severely curved spine, making her look like a hunchback. While her appearance did not bother her at home, it did in public and she rarely ventured outside.

When I was nine years old, my father was offered (and accepted) a job with the Korean Embassy in Washington, DC. Our entire family obtained visas to move with him except for Grandmother because she was not a “blood” relative. Upon hearing this, I screamed, cried and carried on for days, driving my parents crazy until they somehow figured out a way to secure Grandmother a visa.

So even in the US, Grandmother continued to care for my sister, brother, and me, cooking our meals and taking care of the house. She was the “glue” that kept our family going, the real COO, while Mother was more of a figure head.

Life Lesson in a Single Impressionable Event: The Story of McDonalds

After living in the US for about three years, my father was promoted to a new position located in South Korea. The timing was not ideal because my older brother was about to leave for college. And, because of this, my parents made the tough decision that they would move to South Korea and leave us with my grandmother and guardians. Our guardians were mostly there in case of emergency, and, in reality, it was my tiny grandmother, who did not speak a word of English, who took care of my brother, sister and me, on her own, in a foreign country.

There is one event that stands out during this time that has had a huge impact on my personal and professional development. One day, my sister and Grandmother went shopping. I was a huge fan of McDonald’s chicken nuggets and asked my sister if she would stop by McDonald’s to get me some. She replied that she was busy and McDonald’s was too far out of the way to pick up “junk food” for her little brother.

A couple of hours went by and my sister returned home, alone. When I asked her where Grandmother was, she answered that Grandmother had insisted on going to McDonald’s to get my food. I became furious at my sister for leaving Grandmother, a woman who hated being out in public and couldn’t speak a word of English, to venture out on her own. My sister and I argued for what felt like an eternity until we became concerned that Grandmother might be lost. That’s when the front door opened and Grandmother walked in, holding a bag from McDonald’s containing my chicken nuggets and favorite BBQ sauce! Relieved to see her, I shed tears of joy and gave her a huge hug.

Impact on My Life

To this day, my sister and I talk about the McDonald’s story whenever we discuss the impact Grandmother had in shaping the person I am today. I always envision what it must have been like for the McDonald’s employees to see this little hunchbacked Asian grandmother desperately attempting to get food for me, her grandchild. My grandmother, who for an instant, probably didn’t care about the obvious stares she must have received due to her appearance and inability to speak English.  She was determined to fulfill her mission of making me happy. The amazing thing about the McDonald’s event was that when Grandmother returned home, she acted as if nothing special had happened.

I often think of my grandmother, a remarkable woman, who even though she experienced doubt and fear, was still strong, humble, and compassionate enough to rise to meet any situation head-on and make the most of it. She was a person filled with love and compassion, who demonstrated, through repeated actions, the importance of humility and quiet confidence. These lessons have always stayed with me. And, as a result, I try to guide and remind my family and colleagues that it is okay to have flaws, weaknesses and fear but, despite these, we must rise to meet the occasion.

My beloved grandmother is no longer physically with me but not one day goes by without me thinking about her and appreciating her unconditional love for me. And, most importantly, I try to live my life, both personally and professionally, reflecting on the lessons learned from my dear grandmother who showed me the true way to lead people is through love, compassion, humility and quiet confidence.

Sang Lee is a managing partner at Aite Group, a research and advisory firm to the top 200 financial institutions, leading technology vendors and professional services firms. I met Sang when my husband, Brad, worked with him at Aite. I am always inspired by Sang’s humble, kind and authentic leadership style.

On a personal note, Sang is happily married with three children and describes himself as “the worse half of a beautiful relationship.”

“A Mindful Leadership Story by Rick Gardner”

One of the most profound experiences on mindful leadership I have known came out of a family tragedy. On September 26, 2007, my oldest son, Zia died suddenly of a previously unknown and undetected heart condition. He was 34 years old. Zia was home alone in the early evening and had called 911.  The apartment was a four-story structure and he was on the third floor.  Paramedics arrived but initially could not get in since the door was locked.  By the time they were able to break down the door and get to the third floor, Zia had died. I quickly called our son James to deliver the terrible news.  James was living about ten minutes away from us at the time. I told him we would bring our youngest son Jeremy over while Diane and I made the trip into town to see Zia. My wife and I now belonged to a club that no one wants to join, surviving parents of children.

While we were fortunate to have abundant support from family and friends during this difficult period, I realized that everyone would need to deal with this loss in their own way and I had no idea what that would even be for me, let alone for others.

So what did I do?

I slowed myself down.

I focused on helping others and doing the next right thing, even though I was not quite sure what that might be.

I allowed myself to grieve. Often, I was alone. Other times, my grief came out at random moments in the presence of others.

I gave everyone whatever space and time they needed to move forward.  At times it was just being present with them in the silence of the moment.  Other times, it was doing even the smallest of things together in a thoughtful way.

So what did I learn?

I discovered I could function well though certainly not perfectly during moments of extreme challenge.

I was able to provide comfort and stability for others by focusing my attention on them and being attentive to their needs.

While struggling for meaning, I could still be grateful.

One thing I had not anticipated was how many people would feel awkward around me after Zia’s death. They were unsure how to act, what was appropriate to say, or even the best way to be sensitive was. I simply said to them: “We do not honor the dead by dying with them…”

Indeed, it was devastating but not disabling.  I said that I wanted to turn this family tragedy into a source of strength.

I told them I appreciated their compassion and explained it would be helpful for me to go back to doing what we had been doing before all of this happened.  By stating my wishes, I was able to provide the acknowledgement and relief they needed to move forward and it certainly helped me in establishing a “new normal.”

I continue to live in the “now” and am ever mindful of the fleeting moments of life.

I choose to create high quality personal and professional experiences moment by moment for as many moments as I have left.

While I will forever grieve the loss of my son, Zia, I have never felt more alive and grateful for the ability to serve others as a coach and consultant. I am able to help people deal with their own personal and professional leadership challenges by drawing on this profound experience.

I hope that by sharing this story, it offers you a moment of thoughtful reflection and enables you to move positively and steadily forward on your own journey of becoming a more mindful leader.

I’d like to thank Rick for sharing his personal journey of how he lived through a family tragedy. I have had the privilege of partnering with Rick for the last six years facilitating workshops in the area of conflict management. Rick always shows up grounded, positive, insightful, kind, and easily able to connect with clients.  Rick Gardner, President at GEMCAP Ventures, LLC, works as an executive coach and business consultant with teams and individuals.

“Through silence, through meditation, and through non-judgment, you will access the first law, the Law of Pure Potentiality.”
– Deepak Chopra

As part of our work to reach their potential, leaders often ask me for meditation exercises, which is why I’d like to share this simple self-reflection I practiced with Deepak Chopra at one of his recent talks. I love this exercise for its power to provide us with more space and direction in our lives, and yet, in such a simple and attainable way.

Meditation Directions (source: Deepak Chopra)

Sit in a relaxing position, close your eyes, and bring your attention to your breath. For a few seconds, allow your mind to settle into your breath. Now begin to move your awareness into your heart and allow your breath to settle into your heart.

Quietly, ask yourself the following four questions, one at a time, slowly. Allowing a few minutes in reflection for each question.
1. Who am I?
2. What do I want?
3. What is my purpose?
4. What am I grateful for?

Deepak advises that we not force the answers to these questions. That instead, we should just be aware. That is we should not interpret, rather just be aware using something he calls “SIFT.” In other words, pay attention and notice your S: Sensations, I: Images, F: Feelings/Emotions, and T: Thoughts and see what comes up for you.You may decide to journal, and take a few notes, or it may be enough for you to simply notice and observe.

So I challenge you to take the meditation challenge: for the next week, take 10-15 minutes to practice the exercise. Enjoy the space. I would love to hear about your “meditation experience.” What did you notice? What did you learn about yourself? Feel free to shoot me an email and share at cqb@quartner.com.

In today’s world, where we all struggle to balance home and work life, Dr. Travis Bradberry provides us with strategies on how to manage our stress levels so we may increase our performance and feel better at the same time in “How Successful People Stay Calm.” Top ten themes (that coincidentally executives often share with me) include:

1. Attitude of Gratitude: why not try keeping a coaching journal: What surprised me today? What moved me or touched me today? What inspired me today?

2. Avoid asking “What if?

3. Stay Positive

4. Disconnect from your PDA: unplug by turning off your phone/email to give your body a break from a constant source stress

5. Limit Caffeine

6. Sleep is Not for the Weak

7. Squash Negative Talk

8. Keep Perspective: attend your child’s soccer game, play golf for the afternoon, or even take a short walk to change your scenery

9. Breathe

10. Tap into Support Systems

Take a few moments to read Dr. Travis Bradberry’s article and you may just enhance your performance and feel better at the same time.

Would love to hear from you about how you manage your stress – What works? What doesn’t? Feel free to shoot me an email.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.   Anonymous

“You have lung cancer and six months left to live,” said my father’s doctor. Fortunately, the doctor was 100% wrong. Dad did not have cancer but instead aspiration pneumonia and five more years.

But aspiration pneumonia, while not cancer, had its own set of difficult complications. Unfortunately, Dad had lost his ability to swallow properly because food and liquids were going down the wrong pipe, into his lungs, and causing infection. During his final five years of life, I watched this once invincible, active man, who used to refer to himself as one handsome devil, fight for his life.

So while the disease took away my father’s ability to eat, drink and breathe on his own, it did not take away his ability to teach us how to live and how to love. For the remainder of his life, my dad was deprived of the simple pleasures we often take for granted, he used an oxygen machine, had a tracheotomy, and a feeding tub. His medical charts had  “NPO” stamped on them, acronym for “Nil Per Oz,” a Latin phrase that translates to nothing through the mouth: no food and no water.

I don’t think anyone, including my dad, would have believed he could endure these new set of circumstances but somehow he did, rising to the occasion and teaching us the meaning of really hanging in there and surviving.

Nine Lessons From My Dad:

Always have a sense of humor
My dad had an incredible sense of humor and thankfully the illness did not change this. His arms were covered with bruises and scabs from the many needles administered – but rather than feel sorry for himself – he often joked about his predicament, calling himself a “human pin cushion.” Up until the moment he died, he kept his sense of humor. In fact, right before he died, when his nurse asked him to open his mouth for morphine, Dad jokingly said, “I thought you were a nurse, since when did you become my dentist?”

Take care of yourself, first
One day I came to visit Dad in the hospital. I rose early, barely brushed my teeth and drove quickly to the hospital because I wanted to be there when he awoke. He opened his eyes, took one look at me and said, “Go home, you look terrible.” I learned I was no good showing up for someone if I wasn’t taking care of myself.

Soon afterwards, my dad was put in a medically induced coma so his lungs would benefit from something called a RotoProne. I walked into the ICU and there was my father, unconscious and spinning around like a rotisserie chicken. I made sure I was at the hospital when he awoke, but this time, I put on my “Chanel” make up, fixed my hair, and wore something nice. His doctors told us Dad might not be coherent, that his brain might have been damaged and therefore he might not be able to communicate with us. Thankfully when he awoke, not only was he coherent but he said, “gee, you look wonderful, did you do something different with your hair?” 

Keep perspective
I learned to take care of myself and find ways to take a step back and maintain perspective. I practiced Yoga, took long walks, and kept in touch with family, friends, and colleagues who provided comfort and support. I kept on working because my clients and colleagues helped me be in the world of the living (at a time when I was surrounded by so much dying) and stay centered and grounded.

How to listen
I learned that sometimes the best kind of listening is just being with someone and being quiet. On many occasions I drove from New Jersey to Maryland just “to be” with my dad at the hospital. Not many words were exchanged but we were connected.

Be grateful
I learned to be grateful for the simple pleasures of life. Taking a walk, breathing, eating and drinking. A lick of a coconut popsicle, a sip of water, these were a few of the treats we would sneak for Dad when no one was looking. He often joked and laughed about what he would do for his favorite meal – a bacon cheeseburger, fries and a coke.

I was also grateful for my husband and siblings. My husband, at sacrifice to our own immediate family, always encouraged me to visit my dad. And because of this, I have no regrets. My siblings and I took turns, juggling our schedules, so that we could support each other as well as my mother and father.

The so-called experts are not always right
My mother, who never attended college, understood my dad’s illness better than many of his doctors and nurses. She intercepted unnecessary procedures and even a few surgeries (just before he was being wheeled away) by understanding his situation and being his advocate.

See beyond the physical
One father’s day, I went to the hospital to give my dad a card. He started to cry – I had never seen him cry before – okay maybe once before when our dog died – so I asked him “what’s the matter Dad?” He told me he was embarrassed by his situation and sorry I had to see him that way. I don’t remember what I said but I do know I learned to look at my dad, see him for the man he was, beyond his physical condition and limitations – and not let his illness define or diminish him.

Listen to your own voice
I learned to trust myself and do the right thing. While well intentioned, I ignored comments like, “he’s an old man, you have a young family, you’re busy, he can do without a visit.” The times I spent with my dad were gifts for both of us.

Be true to yourself and your own values
After a new heart valve, open heart surgery, calls to 911, endless emergency room visits and a new cancer growth (that the doctors now wanted to treat with radiation and chemo), Dad said he had had enough, no more hospitals, he was staying home.

Three months later, my dad died peacefully at home in his bedroom and on his own terms. I was fortunate enough to be with him as he took his final breath.

It’s been a little over two years since Dad passed away peacefully and on his own terms. I feel his presence every day. I try to slow down, stay grounded, keep perspective, and not take anything or anyone for granted. I learned that the most meaningful experiences happen when we are brave enough to be vulnerable about who we are and what we need with the people we love and trust, regardless of the circumstances.

This blog entry was dedicated to my Dad, “Jimmy Quartner” and the kick-off of a mindful leadership series – thank you for reading.

It’s now 2014 and a new year has begun … many of us are setting resolutions – how can we become fitter, thinner, smarter, richer, more likeable? And the list continues.

In our current Facebook generation, how many of us (including myself!) become seduced by posting and viewing pictures that reflect an image of our perfect lives to our “friends” and family. Isn’t it ironic that our behavior on Facebook is really the opposite of what true friendship and connection is about?

Maybe it’s the freedom that comes along with growing older but I’m learning there’s more perfection in being okay with being imperfect. It’s a pretty powerful feeling when we share with someone (we trust) a side of us that isn’t so perfect and they are still willing to hold that space with us, accepting and loving us for who we are. Not the perfect picture posted on Facebook.

Not sure it’s the best comparison but I often think of this story …. When we moved in to our new home, I complained to my Aunt Eunice about a scratch either my husband or I created on our beautiful new dresser, she replied, “good, now it looks like you live there and you can start to enjoy.”

So while we are still accountable for our behavior and how it impacts others, maybe we can let go of the notion that we should all have picture perfect lives, because we don’t.

A toast to a happy, healthy and prosperous 2014 filled with may rich experiences and a couple of bumps along the way, supported by friends and family who love us for who we are.