If you happen to be a fan of the social media Goodreads, as I do, you are likely to become familiar with the Year in Books, a personalized infographic to showcase your reading journey near the end of each December.
In this light, the digital platform is similar to those fitness tracker apps that allow runners to log mileage. Readers keep record too, but check the log not so frequently. Yes, at most once a year. I read because I enjoy the experience of reading: the "mileage" of books finished is much less important than the mileage of running or pace. Too many of us remember too well our obsession with the numbers on our fitness trackers like Runkeeper apps or Garmin device.
One day, perhaps, I will learn to love running more than those numbers on my Runkeeper apps. As much as I enjoy reading.
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Presence
Picture the scene: you're receiving a silver award at the Olympics medal ceremony. Think of the flashlight from one camera after another, and you might picture yourself smiling. But it would be interesting to take a peek (not more) at the bronze medalist on the other side of the podium. Do you know his smile is much happier than yours?
Psychologists, after going through video footage of the previous Olympics winners, are now rock-solid certain that the bronze medalists are way more happier than the silver winners. It is because of counterfactual thinking: we tend to compare our objective achievements to what "might have been." The silver medalist tends to focus on the difference between winning gold and the silver. The bronze winner, on the other hand, would focus on almost not winning a medal at all. In this way, bronze medalists' reference point of "At least I got a medal" makes them feel happier.
Not convinced? Consider yourself missing a flight by five minutes and then missing it after late arrival at the airport by two hours. Which of them is going to make you feel more miserable? Five minutes, of course. You wish to kick yourself hard for that mistake.
I don't just read the behavioral scientist research, I experienced it. And I didn't just experience it, I overcame the thinking. That happened after my first 10 km running race this week, when I took part in the advanced (oh yes, that refers to the age criteria, not the skill) category. I sensed an heavier-than-usual panting sound during the race as I got used to waves of runners passing me by. The instinctive human response to being passed is to accelerate as quickly as possible: the faster my competitors, the greater the speed I gathered. I unlocked my best personal record of finishing 10 km - if you're curious - within 46 minutes. This is, interestingly, a similar story to that of missing flight when I realized that my position is the tenth, just one short of the top nine runners who receive trophies.
"Oh, I could have won a trophy" ran through my head for a few times. And then, it hit me: I should get to yes to myself and learn to live for experiences rather than outcomes. The precious things in life are moments: the experience itself, not the afterglow; the doing, not the having done.
Psychologists, after going through video footage of the previous Olympics winners, are now rock-solid certain that the bronze medalists are way more happier than the silver winners. It is because of counterfactual thinking: we tend to compare our objective achievements to what "might have been." The silver medalist tends to focus on the difference between winning gold and the silver. The bronze winner, on the other hand, would focus on almost not winning a medal at all. In this way, bronze medalists' reference point of "At least I got a medal" makes them feel happier.
Not convinced? Consider yourself missing a flight by five minutes and then missing it after late arrival at the airport by two hours. Which of them is going to make you feel more miserable? Five minutes, of course. You wish to kick yourself hard for that mistake.
I don't just read the behavioral scientist research, I experienced it. And I didn't just experience it, I overcame the thinking. That happened after my first 10 km running race this week, when I took part in the advanced (oh yes, that refers to the age criteria, not the skill) category. I sensed an heavier-than-usual panting sound during the race as I got used to waves of runners passing me by. The instinctive human response to being passed is to accelerate as quickly as possible: the faster my competitors, the greater the speed I gathered. I unlocked my best personal record of finishing 10 km - if you're curious - within 46 minutes. This is, interestingly, a similar story to that of missing flight when I realized that my position is the tenth, just one short of the top nine runners who receive trophies.
"Oh, I could have won a trophy" ran through my head for a few times. And then, it hit me: I should get to yes to myself and learn to live for experiences rather than outcomes. The precious things in life are moments: the experience itself, not the afterglow; the doing, not the having done.
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Getting to Yes
When is it okay not to wear mask in the outpatient clinic and why? If anything, my quick answer would be to show patients our smile. And face, too.
One of the embarrassing moments is when a patient entered my room this afternoon, studied me for a while and leaned toward me saying, "Doctor, you look haggard. And losing quite a bit of weight."
I went on to explain my indulgence with running lately, and I laughed it off.
Later in the same clinic session, a second patient recounted to me how I looked dog-tired and kaput.
"Why so?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. Isn't that odd? Why, I asked myself, would more than one patient tell me the same thing within the same afternoon? There must be a lot of truth in my patients' observation.
Before the next patient came in, I rose from my chair and took a walk to the bathroom. Yup, a bathroom visit is more or less the concept of going to the balcony. That comes from the groundbreaking book Getting to Yes by William Ury: If life is a stage and we are all actors on that stage, then balcony is the only place from which we can see the entire play unfolding with greater clarity.
Which brings me to the prequel to the classic, Getting to Yes with Yourself, my recent fascinating read. To apply what I've learned from William Ury, I put myself in my shoes and listened empathetically to my story. Little by little, it dawned on me that I had been provoked by several emotion-charged e-mails and telephone call. I could have got bogged down by the conflicts, without noticing my clenched jaw, face in knots and cortisol swooshing through my bloodstream. With the me-search bit by bit in the metaphorical balcony, I had a chance to talk myself out of the anger. As I listened to myself, I noticed the need to get past the blame game and stop myself from hatred. I wanted to be free and so I let it go.
Forgiving those impolite and sour conversations doesn't mean condoning what they did. The key is to free myself from their weight. I have come to realize the choice to say yes to life, shape my life, and be myself after reading William Ury's book. The truth is that, it's our birthright, a frame of mind to feel less dependent on others to satisfy our needs for happiness. I can choose how I define those words, no matter how bad, and move on.
As taught by William Ury, I may not have the power to change the challenging experiences, but I do have the power to change the impact factor I assign to them.
By getting to yes with myself, I wish I can reclaim my life. I see how I can take a deep breath and get out of a dark tunnel, shaking off the dog poo I happened to have stepped on.
One of the embarrassing moments is when a patient entered my room this afternoon, studied me for a while and leaned toward me saying, "Doctor, you look haggard. And losing quite a bit of weight."
I went on to explain my indulgence with running lately, and I laughed it off.
Later in the same clinic session, a second patient recounted to me how I looked dog-tired and kaput.
"Why so?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. Isn't that odd? Why, I asked myself, would more than one patient tell me the same thing within the same afternoon? There must be a lot of truth in my patients' observation.
Before the next patient came in, I rose from my chair and took a walk to the bathroom. Yup, a bathroom visit is more or less the concept of going to the balcony. That comes from the groundbreaking book Getting to Yes by William Ury: If life is a stage and we are all actors on that stage, then balcony is the only place from which we can see the entire play unfolding with greater clarity.
Which brings me to the prequel to the classic, Getting to Yes with Yourself, my recent fascinating read. To apply what I've learned from William Ury, I put myself in my shoes and listened empathetically to my story. Little by little, it dawned on me that I had been provoked by several emotion-charged e-mails and telephone call. I could have got bogged down by the conflicts, without noticing my clenched jaw, face in knots and cortisol swooshing through my bloodstream. With the me-search bit by bit in the metaphorical balcony, I had a chance to talk myself out of the anger. As I listened to myself, I noticed the need to get past the blame game and stop myself from hatred. I wanted to be free and so I let it go.
Forgiving those impolite and sour conversations doesn't mean condoning what they did. The key is to free myself from their weight. I have come to realize the choice to say yes to life, shape my life, and be myself after reading William Ury's book. The truth is that, it's our birthright, a frame of mind to feel less dependent on others to satisfy our needs for happiness. I can choose how I define those words, no matter how bad, and move on.
As taught by William Ury, I may not have the power to change the challenging experiences, but I do have the power to change the impact factor I assign to them.
By getting to yes with myself, I wish I can reclaim my life. I see how I can take a deep breath and get out of a dark tunnel, shaking off the dog poo I happened to have stepped on.
Friday, December 15, 2017
Give
I don't think that there can be a busier time to buy gifts than Christmas. I'm not sure about your best gift this Christmas, but I'm pretty certain that mine is Adam Grant's book Give and Take.
After going through the first two chapters of the book I borrowed from public library, I knew I should buy one as a gift for the Christmas party, and one for myself. From there, I started to learn about takers (who like to get more than they give), givers (who prefer to give more than they get) and matchers (who strive to preserve an equal balance of giving and getting).
Me, I've always been a giver. Too much of a giver some might say. There are often times when the social style of giver jeopardizes a leader's reputation. Such fear of being judged as a wimp, believe it or not, can push us to act like a taker, or at least a matcher.
Not until I've learned more about the meaning of a giver from Adam Grant. One of the best examples comes from a nationwide cohort of Belgian medical students. At first glance, students with the lowest grades had unusually high scores on giver statements like "I love to help others." Wait. Before we conclude that givers are more likely to land at the bottom of the success ladder, a closer look at the data shows that it was only the first year of medical school when givers underperformed.
By the sixth year, the givers had much better grades than their peers.
By the seventh year, when the givers became doctors, they had climbed even higher and ahead.
Phew!
After going through the first two chapters of the book I borrowed from public library, I knew I should buy one as a gift for the Christmas party, and one for myself. From there, I started to learn about takers (who like to get more than they give), givers (who prefer to give more than they get) and matchers (who strive to preserve an equal balance of giving and getting).
Me, I've always been a giver. Too much of a giver some might say. There are often times when the social style of giver jeopardizes a leader's reputation. Such fear of being judged as a wimp, believe it or not, can push us to act like a taker, or at least a matcher.
Not until I've learned more about the meaning of a giver from Adam Grant. One of the best examples comes from a nationwide cohort of Belgian medical students. At first glance, students with the lowest grades had unusually high scores on giver statements like "I love to help others." Wait. Before we conclude that givers are more likely to land at the bottom of the success ladder, a closer look at the data shows that it was only the first year of medical school when givers underperformed.
By the sixth year, the givers had much better grades than their peers.
By the seventh year, when the givers became doctors, they had climbed even higher and ahead.
Phew!
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Dad Dates
It's true. Vice president should try to attend every council meeting. And yet I skipped a meeting tonight and I am glad I did. Oh, yes. Yes, I did that because I wanted to finish work slightly early to celebrate my daughter's birthday at the Disney theme park. I knew without a shadow of doubt that I should not use work as an excuse for not spending evening with my eight-year-old Jasmine.
We didn't stay at the park for long. After all, she has usual school day, and I long clinic day. But there is a magic about those two hours or so - the special times that we had together. In my experience, one of the simplest and yet most powerful ways for fathers to connect to their children is a piggyback ride. And what better way to navigate around the crowded park and enjoy the firework show?
You must, if you're a daddy, and especially if you have a lovely daughter, try this piggyback experience. How could you not?
We didn't stay at the park for long. After all, she has usual school day, and I long clinic day. But there is a magic about those two hours or so - the special times that we had together. In my experience, one of the simplest and yet most powerful ways for fathers to connect to their children is a piggyback ride. And what better way to navigate around the crowded park and enjoy the firework show?
You must, if you're a daddy, and especially if you have a lovely daughter, try this piggyback experience. How could you not?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
