[blox_row][blox_column width=”1/1″][blox_heading title=”Watching people is one of my favorite past times. ” size=”h3″ style=”style5″ animation=”none”][/blox_heading][blox_text animation=”none”]
In September of 2013 I had the privilege of being in New York City. I arrived earlier than expected, via train, from Baltimore, checked my luggage at Penn Station (since my host was still at work) and took off walking up to Times Square and over into Central Park.
Watching people was great fun. Each one had a story.
We all have a story.
Every person you will ever influence or mentor will have a story.
Their story counts. As does yours.
How they carry themselves, how we carry ourselves, our posture, tells part of our story, without words.
Observing the wild, wonderful, wide variety of humanity in that great city, I observed that some slumped, looking like the weight of the world was actually on their very shoulders.
Others confidently took long strides in their steps.
Some shuffled wearily along.
One man was in a wheelchair.
No legs. Just stumps of legs, finely attired in business clothes.
He sat up straight, with a clear-eyed look, as he worked his way through the crowd. It was intriguing to realize that he was the only one smiling as we waited for the light to change.
When we got to the other side of 5th Avenue, I dared to pursue him. He generously paused as I asked him a question.
“You have a remarkable disposition with whatever has taken place in your life. Obviously, most of your legs are missing, but your posture tells me you’re not letting whatever happened stop you. How does it happen that you look like the happiest person I’ve yet seen in NYC?”
I didn’t know him, obviously. He, obviously, didn’t know me.
What he said next caused me to laugh out loud, not at him, but with him. It was almost too good of a set up for this blog post that I knew I would write some day.
“I’ve had some mentors and therapists in my life that never gave up on me when I wanted to give up on myself. I was a mess when my accident happened.”
“I’m a leadership mentor from Colorado. Your words fascinate me. I can see you’re on a mission, but do you have a couple of minutes to answer some questions.”
“Sure. Want some coffee? There’s a Barnes & Noble just up the street, I can get around in there and I could use the break. But I only have about 20 minutes.”
He almost wheeled faster up 5th than I could walk. It was a 20 minute gift of time with a purpose.
He told me, “I’m on my way to some mentoring I do every Friday afternoon. Some of the business guys I hang out with, and I, have signed up to be friends with some kids in the city who have had it a bit rough. This is always the best part of my week.”
This is where, even as I write this, I’m doing some of that “inner smiling” at the remembered moment. “What about those mentors helped you to not give up or give in to whatever happened to you? That caught my attention.”
“They looked at me with honest compassion as a human…not as some dude that didn’t have his legs anymore. They never stopped listening to whatever I said, no matter how crude or full of self-pity I might have been. They were not afraid to be close to me, as some seemed to treat me like I had a disease.”
He continued, “The two guys I mentor, from one of the rough neighborhoods in the city, have their physical legs, but they’ve had no one to look at them for the potential they have, or listen to them and lean into them. Their relational and emotional legs are gone. Taken from them. It’s been hard for them to stand up and become something more than what they’ve grown up with.”
“They freaked out a little bit when they found out I had no legs. But it’s because I had mentors hanging in with me on my worst days, that when this opportunity presented itself at our firm, I was the first one to sign up. I knew I needed to give back to someone what I’d been given.”
“So what do you do with being a leadership mentor?” he asked.
“I help people find their legs in all 8 dimensions of their lives. You are one of the finest examples of what true mentoring is all about. Have I got this correct? It’s how people looked at you, listened to you, and moved toward you that helped you get to where you are?”
“Exactly. I’ve gotta run. Thanks for the coffee. And good luck in your own mentoring.” He was out the door and up the street.
I’m laughing again as I write this remembering his, “I gotta run.” Talk about someone standing taller than most, with the basic elements of life-changing mentoring!
That whole longer weekend in NYC had similar “magical” moments.
Listening. Looking. Leaning in.
This “chance” encounter helped inform the mentoring moments I shared with my host, whom I’ve now been mentoring for two years from our intentional, deep-change, whole-life, transformational model.
Someone is waiting for you to mentor them.
No matter your own circumstances.
Or theirs.
Those three “L’s” allow you to begin and continue the mentoring journey.
Listen. Look. Lean in.
Be prepared to receive even more than you may give.[/blox_text][/blox_column][/blox_row]