Episode 87: Share Stories and OWN Your Talents
Al Swanson has always been an outdoorsy guy, so much that his first plan out of high school was to study turf management. Yes, turf management. His interest began with a manager who was on the cutting edge of sustainable, ecologically healthy golf course management. That manager was way ahead of his time, and Al knew it.
Don’t tell people what you’re good at. Demonstrate it with a story!
Al Swanson in his studio in Helena, Montana
Al Swanson has always been an outdoorsy guy, so much that his first plan out of high school was to study turf management. Yes, turf management. His interest began with a manager who was on the cutting edge of sustainable, ecologically healthy golf course management. That manager was way ahead of his time, and Al knew it. That experience is part of what inspired him to continue his work as a sustainable craftsman.
A back injury prevented him from taking his degree to work, so to speak, and after a few learning opportunities, he came back to his roots (so to speak), in woodworking with sustainably harvested trees.
Al Swanson’s Shop, Helena, Montana
Delicious beer from Lewis & Clark Brewing Company
We spoke at his shop in Helena, Montana, while sipping some local beers with the extraordinary scent of cedar and pine all around us.
There are two reasons I asked Al to be a guest on the podcast. One was that during our last conversation, he told me a story about running into some people at a brewery in Phillipsburg, Montana, and having a moment of celebrity status - and owning it. I was intrigued with his idea about being comfortable with that feeling and choosing to be exactly what your admirers expect you to be. It’s not about being a know-it-all, or any kind of superiority. It’s about owning what you’re awesome at, knowing you’re still growing and learning, and acknowledging and appreciating it when people recognize your magic.
Al is well known for his fly fishing accessories, but he developed his reputation for fine art and craftsmanship in his furniture business. That’s how I met him; I coveted an absolutely stunning piece he had donated to an auction for our Prickly Pear Land Trust annual event, the Harvest Moon Banquet.
Fly boxes custom made for Patagonia
The other reason I asked Al to chat with me was that his work is truly extraordinary, and I wanted to learn more about his motivation behind what he does. We share the theory that when we provide a service or product, it’s the details that make your work unique. Similar to my conversation with Rocky Connell, the artisan bread maker at Park Avenue Bakery, we spoke about the energy we put into everything we do.
In Al’s case, a huge part of receiving a piece built by him is how he packages the gift. It’s all about the experience, not just the beautiful artistry in the piece itself. Al includes cedar, hand shaved into fragrant, curly, fine strips in the box. When that box is opened, the receiver is instantly transported to the shop where the piece was made, with a sense of belonging and longing for the forest where the wood was harvested.
One of the great stories he shared was about how he was inspired to create fly fishing accessories, many are available thanks to his relationship with Orvis. Because of Al’s generous spirit, he fixed a broken landing net (used to carefully scoop up a fish after catching it) that was meaningful to a young man who happened to walk into the A.L. Swanson gallery in downtown Helena. That young man was about to join the leadership team at Orvis.
What's Your Tipping Point?
Few books resonate with me for longer than the time it takes to read them. The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell is one that I continue to refer to in conversations, almost 10 years after reading it. THAT's impact.
Malcolm Gladwell describes the concept this way: "The tipping point is that magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behavior crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire." Gladwell's book is about social and business dynamics; imagine a seesaw with a person walking slowly up the plank, and that very small step he will take that will tip the seesaw the other direction.
I've written about starting over, the excitement and anxiety that comes with a decision to drop what you're doing and try something new. I've written about lessons learned from difficult jobs and stepping out of my comfort zone. But what brings us to the jumping off point? For most of us, that point will shift based on the movement of an external fulcrum - but what if we are moving along the plank when the fulcrum shifts? The fulcrum shift could be the loss of a job, or a traumatic event in our lives, over which we have little control.
Very few tipping points happen as suddenly as they appear. It's rare to have a true overnight sensation. Most commonly, things in our lives have been gradually shifting and we're generally unaware of those tiny steps across the plank. We are constantly learning, observing and absorbing new details, even when we don't know it or understand what is happening to us. When the fulcrum shifts, we are already moving ahead (or back), throwing us off balance. Do we notice incremental changes in our marriages before they fall apart? What about those minor details at work that are leading to our dissatisfaction - and ultimate separation from our jobs? People say "I never saw it coming" but is that really true? When we have a major breakthrough in life or at work, do we think it came out of nowhere? Or do we recognize the daily work that went into that success?
What will you be doing when the fulcrum shifts? Are you prepared for that tipping point into the next stage of your life? Can you be prepared if you don't know what that fulcrum is? I believe you can, to some extent.
The two things that can make a positive fundamental shift are attitude and intention.
I recently read a book by Whitney Johnson called Disrupt Yourself. Her book's theme is that the general movement of our lives and careers are S curves of learning, building confidence, and mastery. She suggests that at any moment we can be at a different spot in the many S curves that make up our lives. She offers tools in her book to help us identify where we are on that S curve. The premise of the book is that we are always somewhere on the curve; the trick is to figure out where we are, whether we want to be there, and how to shift or disrupt our curve if the answer is no.
I've been blessed with a couple of connections who have pushed me forward on my seesaw, heading toward my tipping point to success in my next adventure. Each relationship I build seems to be leading me to that point. Wendy Weiner Rouge and I met on LinkedIn and scheduled a FaceTime visit. In that brief conversation, she told me about her love for Simon Sinek and his why theory. She suggested I work to figure out my why because I know my what (what I want to be doing, what makes me feel alive). For me that means coming up with a short, simple statement that can become a sort of mantra. Wendy's why is "to incite gratitude".
My next moment came with a FaceTime visit with Arminda Lindsay. I described an event I'm preparing a session for, the general outline of the session and my plans for engaging the audience. She said: "Sarah, you lit up when you talked about that. You were absolutely glowing."
That's when I realized where I am on my current S curve. That's also when I realized that I am ready for my tipping point.
When you're actively learning, growing, and beyond excited for the next part of your journey - even if you don't know the destination - that's when you're on your way toward a personal tipping point. Keep pressing, keep learning, and make sure you tell people what you want (thanks, Bruce Kasanoff) and eventually, you will hit that tipping point, making your dream a reality.
I'm not delusional. I know this tipping point is one of many in my future. I have a lot of interests I intend to explore; still, every adventure must have a beginning, a first step on the plank of that seesaw. And remember, in our individual version of the seesaw, one person doesn't have to come down in order for another to go up.
One of my favorite children's books, Just A Little Bit, describes the difficulty of a seesaw game between an elephant and a mouse. I won't spoil it for you but I'll give you a hint; the ending reminds us that just a tiny thing can make a big difference, but that every tiny addition can get us closer to our goals.
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