The Holy Grail in moral philosophy is a single principle that serves as a touchstone for resolving all moral dilemmas, and thereby offering us a glimpse into that elusive ‘meaning of life.’  Classical philosophers (St Augustine, Cicero, St Thomas, among others) called this single principle the “Summum Bonum” or the highest good, that which is good in and of itself, contains all other goods, and from which all other goods are derived.   The Summum Bonum is the purpose, the goal, the description of the life best lived.   In their quest for this first principle, different philosophers and religious thinkers have arrived at various versions of what they believed to be the Summum Bonum.    

Over the years, I’ve made a list of different visions of this source principle I’ve encountered in my reading and studies.    This is where my list stands today, and I offer it as a simple man’s necessarily over-simplification of some very nuanced ideas, which I can only pretend to understand. But here is what I’ve found:

     Excellence/Fulfillment/Wisdom – Aristotle

     Moral Duty – Immanuel Kant

     Quality – Robert Pirsig (author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance)

     Power (properly applied) – Frederick Nietzsche/Robert Adler 

     Pleasure (broadly conceived)– Sigmund Freud  

     Enlightenment – Buddha

    The moment (suspending rationality) - Zen Buddhism

    Dignity/Honor – The Stoics

     The greatest Happiness for the Greatest Number – Jeremy Bentham/John Stuart Mill

     Authentic and passionate commitment – Albert Camus, Martin Heidegger

     Don’t Worry. Be Happy – Meher Baba

     Self-Actualization – Abraham Mazlow

     Self-Actualization thru one’s work – Karl Marx

     Beauty -  James Joyce, Friedrich Schiller

     Kindness/compassion/love - Dalai Lama, Buddha, Christ

You’ll note that some of the ‘first principles’ on this list are oriented toward self-development, while others are oriented more toward how we relate and interact with others.    There is clearly much overlap in these different approaches, but there are also clearly values, life choices and life-styles unique to each.  Each speaks to a different perspective on what makes us human and what human excellence looks like.

Some will argue that God has to be on this list, since a relationship with God or Christ or another religious leader is the Summum Bonum in most religious traditions.  I agree, but I choose to separate matters of faith from matters of the mind and reason.  For the theist, the Summum Bonum is necessarily a reflection of God’s will; for the atheist or agnostic, it is arrived at through reason and empirical observation.  I contend that these two perspectives are not mutually exclusive.

Probably my favorite interpretation of ‘what It’s all about’ is from the Roman poet Lucretius.   In his  search for the key to the life well lived, he studied all of the great thinkers and philosophers of his era, and distilled what he learned into two maxims:  “It is better to love than to hate,” and “Live life fully, even if imperfectly.”

For many of us, this may be simply a theoretical question of little ‘practical’ import.  For others, and for the individuals and traditions associated with the different first principles listed above, this is a life-defining, existential question:   What is the one most important value I stand for, live for, strive for, and am willing to die for?  Why am I here?  It is a question that many of us consider more and more as we get older.  But had you asked me that question as a young man, I would have responded with a wry smile, “What’s it all about?  That’s easy:  Eat. F$@#. Skydive!”

Hmmm….. Maybe “Having Fun” also needs to be on that list.  You know: “You do the hokey pokey, and you turn yourself around, that’s what it’s all about.”  :) 

Note: This list of different interpretations of the ultimate good reminded me of the list of different religions’ versions of the Golden Rule  . Or more amusingly, the list of different religions’ interpretations of Shit happens . (click hotlinks)

Such concepts as ‘brand management,’ ‘personal branding,’ and ‘brand recognition,’ have become standard in the marketing vocabulary of businesses or any enterprise which depends to any degree on public exposure. Managing your ‘brand’ is managing your reputation, and managing the ‘brand’ of the Navy SEALs has recently become a hot topic in the Naval Special Warfare community. This essay will primarily address the SEAL brand. But SWCCs, pay attention; there are lessons in here for you as well.

SEALs on active duty generally get clear guidance from their leaders on how to best enhance the brand of ‘the community’ in the eyes of the various stakeholder groups who impact the future of the NSW brand. If and when active duty SEALs are tempted to ride for themselves and not for their brand, their leaders have the carrot-and-stick leverage of fitness reports/evaluations, duty assignments, and the UCMJ to help lead them away from temptation, and toward the values of the NSW culture. The Navy SEAL Ethos itself provides the values and focus for the SEAL brand. The recent and public chastising of SEALs for violating rules regarding those on active duty working for private businesses sent “a clear message throughout our force that we are and will be held to a high standard of accountability,” (Radm Gary Bonelli quoted in NBCnews.com). Riding for the Brand means following the written and unwritten rules of the community. Active duty SEALs know this, and if they have any questions regarding the impact of life or career choices on ‘the brand,’ they can simply ask their commanding officer, CMC or the JAG.

‘Riding for the Brand’ after leaving active duty is not quite so simple. There is no clear guidance, and no ‘chain of command’ to guide us in deciding how (not whether, but how) to use our status as former Navy SEALs to help us in our post-Navy lives. Active duty SEALs may make a clear distinction between those still ‘inside-the-wire,’ and those outside, and may consider those who have either retired or simply gotten out, to be on their own. And yet, as we’ve recently seen, the SEAL brand is affected not just by the actions of active duty SEALs, but by former SEALs as well. In the eyes of the public and our national leaders, active and former SEALs blend together – and all share in the credit and blame when active or former SEALs succeed, or screw up. While some SEALs leave active duty but stay in the community in GS or contractor positions, many choose to take the challenge of entering the private sector, where rules are often unclear, risk and opportunity are in constant tension, and trust and loyalty seem to have different meanings than in the military. In finding a niche in the private sector, most former SEALs soon learn that their status as ‘former Navy SEAL’ is a key advantage in a very competitive world. After spending the best years of our youth in the Teams, it is the main credential we carry into our next career.

While seeking a follow-on career, most of us also still want to continue to ‘Ride for the Brand,’ so that we can continue to feel part of the brand. But what does that mean and how do we do that?

It is not always easy. I believe it is perfectly legitimate to sell one’s resume, heavily laden with SEAL experience in the open market place, and to be paid for the special skills, experience, and credibility acquired during a career in the Teams. And indeed that is what most of us do. But that doesn’t mean anything goes. There are many opportunities for former SEALs to make a living in ways that wander into the gray area of whether they are indeed still ‘Riding for the Brand,’ or possibly hurting the brand for personal advantage. Former SEALs are offered opportunities to use their status to endorse specific products, political candidates, positions, causes, create company names with clear associations to the Teams, use their credibility as former SEALs to develop and sell products and services, to do media interviews, and of course, for book deals. Whether these activities help or hurt the Navy SEAL brand depends on a wide variety of factors and nuances. It is often unclear whether an opportunity might be a legitimate post-SEAL-career activity, consistent with Riding for the Brand to which they are still loyal, or whether the money they are making may be violating an unwritten or unclear code and might indeed hurt the brand. For most SEALs entering the private sector, this is a new world and many are not well prepared for it.

Obviously it is not an either/or proposition – Ride for the Brand, or Ride for Yourself. Even the best of us are doing some of both. But finding the right balance after leaving active duty and entering the private sector is a challenge that many face. There is need for better understanding on both sides of the active/former SEAL divide: Former SEALs need to better understand the impact that the current media-intensive environment has on the Teams – the spotlight is on active and former SEALs alike, and what former SEALs do impacts those still in the fight. Active SEALs need to better understand the perspectives and challenges faced by of those competing in the private sector. Former SEALs and those getting ready to get out, need some guidance on how to best use their association with the SEAL brand to help create a successful follow-on career that not only serves the former SEAL and his family, but also continues to serve the active NSW community. It may be time to create a SEAL Ethos for those who have left active duty.

The workshop was held in Silicon Valley, since Silicon Valley is the Rainforest they describe, having become a hot bed of innovation and creative ideas that in most cases, were rejected by the ‘plantation owners’ in the US economy of  15, 20, 25  years ago. Many of those plantation-like businesses are now defunct, but the best and strongest weeds, the Googles, the Facebooks, and others have transformed their industries, and arguably our world.  The plantation model still works for efficient implementation and ‘harvesting’ of proven ideas, but the chaos of the Rainforest is where the new ideas, the ‘weeds,’  grow and flourish, and where the best and strongest can prove themselves.

Given that the Rainforest is chaotic and disorganized, I was asked to bring in the perspective of another culture – the Navy SEALs – which has thrived and succeeded in the chaos of the battlefield.  Since SEALs often speak of themselves as ‘masters of chaos,’ and have thrived as a weed within the well-ordered plantation of the Navy,  Greg  wanted the business entrepreneurs  attending this workshop – his Rainforest Architects –to hear from a representative of this successful military ‘start-up’ which has gotten so much attention lately.  And through a couple of mutual friends, he was connected to me.

I was asked to speak on ‘comfort in chaos,’ and I did – generally noting that we should never be ‘comfortable’ in chaos – instead, we should seek to be as well prepared as possible, and when in chaos, stay very, very alert and tuned in, and look hard to find the patterns. SEALs and other SOF train hard to master the chaos of the battlefield by being better prepared and better trained than anyone else in the gunfight, and they mitigate risk by planning and preparing for things to go wrong. We talked about managing luck, good and bad, and becoming more resilient by purposely spending a lot of time outside of our comfort zone, but trying to stay within our safety zone.  After examining my experience and preparing the themes I wanted to address, I found many of the same ideas better expressed– but without the SEAL or military connection – in two books:  Great by Choice, by Jim Collins, and The Icarus Deception by Seth Godin.    I think I led a good discussion with the Rainforest Architects, but we didn’t get specifically to ‘innovation’ as I had hoped. The topic of positive innovation, and creative thought, individually, organizationally, and socially continues to fascinate me.

The reading I did on ‘innovation’ struck me a lot like the reading I have done on leadership: it is a very broad topic, a bit mushy (which I like), there are a number of different models that have succeeded, and innovation and leadership both must adapt to culture and context to succeed.   I found many formulae for enhancing one’s own innovative spirit and personal creativity, formulae for leaders and organizations to foster innovation within their companies/teams, and how innovative teams, often called ‘skunk works’ (check out the etymology)  can organize themselves to best nurture that great idea that will transform their organization, society, or the world.  I also found interesting material about when NOT to innovate, and when to hunker down with the tried and true.   But what I found most insightful were the ideas in Greg and Victor’s Rainforest book and workshop, emphasizing  the need for a supportive ‘economic ecosystem’ to ensure that  great and innovative ideas don’t die on the vine (as many do), but get traction, gain momentum, and have a positive and enduring impact.

The Rainforest Architect approach emphasizes the social and personal relationship piece of the innovation process, and less the scientist working alone in a lab who (for example,) may develop a cure for diabetes.  Greg and Victor make the point that money is not the primary driver for most successful innovators, nor for their supporters , a point also made by Simon Sinek in Start with Why, and Daniel Pink in Drive, among others.  Money and capital are certainly an important part of the process, but their point is that passion and zeal for the idea and the impact it can have, are the primary drivers in most great innovations – not the drive to get rich.  Start with a great, or even pretty good, idea, add passion and zeal on the part not only of the creative, but also the support team, throw in strong business skills, trust between the players, and an economic ecosystem that supports innovation, and the money will naturally follow.

In short, Greg and Victor’s Rainforest message is that ‘it takes a village’ to foster and sustain innovation, and that ‘village’ can be social, entrepreneurial, business, and scientific networks spanning the globe.  That village needs to promote collaboration and trust, and create a space for ideas to come together, and in the words of Matt Ridley, ‘have sex.’  It is a complicated process, and the roles of biology, human relationships and a support community have been undervalued in understanding the innovation process.  A few short quotes from The Rainforest – the Secret to Building the Next Silicon Valley give you a sense for the key messages I took from the book:

-          To understand Silicon Valley, we must think of its people as a living biological system, not the sum of its individual components. P271

-          Successful innovation requires the labors of a vast ecosystem of executives, engineers, salespeople, advisors, consultants, venture capitalists, angel investors, accountants, landlords, lawyers, marketers, bankers, supportive friends, and countless others. Page 82

-          The secret recipe of Rainforests…is about people and how they interact with one another. P64

-          Rainforests have replaced tribalism with a culture of informal rules that allow strangers to work together efficiently on temporary projects. P116

-          The informal rules that govern Rainforests cause people to restrain their short-term self-interest for long-term mutual gain. P121

-          Rainforests like Silicon Valley have developed ways to foster communication, trust, and collaboration among very different kinds of people.  P111

-          Leaders in the Rainforest must learn to engineer serendipity, not outcomes. P275

In preparing for my participation in the workshop, I got a feel for the extensive literature and breadth of thinking on innovation, not only individual creativity, but also how organizations and social and economic ecosystem can foster it.  Exploring the process that leads to breakthroughs that propel our individual, organizational and socio-economic lives forward is a fascinating new world for me.  Clearly, we need analytical, systematic, and plantation-owner thinking in most aspects of our lives, and most of us spend our lives living and working in the well-organized and comfortable world of our (metaphorical) plantations.  But the world of the entrepreneur, the venture capitalist, the start-up, and the innovator is different.   As Greg Horowitt and Victor Hwang write, there are great insights to be gained by purposely (and courageously) walking out into the Rainforest, and seeking to learn from the chaos and innovation in nature, and considering what those processes might teach us as we try to foster an economic ecosystem that gives new and innovative ideas a chance to prove themselves.

Note and Postscript:  The values that the book espouses are of particular interest to me as someone who (still) teaches business ethics.  They are generally consistent with a new movement by successful entrepreneurs and thought leaders like Bill Gates (‘Creative Capitalism,) Michael Porter (‘Shared-Value Capitalism,’) John Mackey (‘Conscious Capitalism,’) and others.   You can read, comment on, and/or endorse the Rainforest Social Contract at http://therainforestbook.com 

I recently returned from helping to lead a National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) leadership course designed to be part of the curriculum at the Wildland Apprentice Firefighting Program – or ‘the Academy’ as the firefighters call it, at the old McClelland Air Force Base in Sacramento. In the aftermath of the South Canyon Fire in Colorado in 1994, in which 14 firefighters died, the National Wildfire Coordinating Group created a leadership curriculum for firefighters, and NOLS had been asked to help teach their advanced leadership course. There were 52 firefighters and eight mentors participating in this week long, field-based leadership course. We were broken down into 6 different groups that went into the field separately. Each group was led by two NOLS instructors and one or two mid-to-senior grade firefighting mentor, and included between 9 and 11 wildland firefighters who were assigned as students to the Academy.

“Where rattlesnakes wear sombreros and carry canteens” is a colorful phrase to be sure, but it tells me that the guys and gals who fight our wildland fires spend days, and sometimes weeks working in really hot places. Fighting forest and other wildland fires is serious and dangerous business – and not only the firefighters, but also our country takes their work very seriously. Since the South Canyon fire in 1994, more than 300 wildland firefighters have died in the line of duty.

Wildland firefighters are federal employees, working for the Forest Service and are called upon to respond, often on very short notice, to fight fires all over the country. Not surprisingly, in recent years most wildland fires have been in the West and other drought-stricken areas. The fire season normally begins in May, and has usually run its course by November, at which time full-time firefighters are able to slow down, spend some time with their families, take care of their gear and, and when appropriate, get further professional training (which is what we were doing with them). Between May and November, most wildland firefighters are away from home fighting fires or responding to other emergencies from 50% to 70% of the time.

It shouldn’t be surprising that the wildland firefighter and military cultures have a lot in common, given that both require coordinating significant resources to respond to threats to our communities and ways of life, putting fighters at great risk, often far away from where they live. Indeed firefighting has been a popular destination for military veterans who are looking for the camaraderie, structure, discipline, and sense of purpose that brings a group of men and women together in the face of danger. As in the military, there are elite firefighters – the ‘hotshots’ and the ‘smoke jumpers’ who are the first ones sent in to assess and hopefully contain a fire in its early stages – and there are the essential, but not quite as ‘elite’ support and logistics personnel on whom those on the line depend. And as in the military, there is an ongoing tension between those on the ground who do the (fire)fighting, and those in the rear, who decide when and how to deploy them, and make resource and policy decisions when, as always, everyone can’t get all they want. Both the military and firefighting cultures share an ethos which demands that personal and other concerns be set aside to accomplish a mission that serves the larger community.

For our expedition, I was the #2 NOLS instructor – our course leader was an impressive young man who several years ago had left the Coast Guard to become a full time NOLS instructor and spend nearly 25 weeks a year in the field instructing NOLS courses. Our team of nine ‘hotshot’ firefighters, all men, average age around 30, were still completing other classes at the Academy when we first met them. A couple of days later, early on a Sunday morning, they joined us with their gear ready to go. We packed our packs, loaded the vehicles and departed on a 4 hour drive to a remote road-head in the Lassen National forest, northeast of Chico, California.

We had 7 days and 6 nights to hike from the south to the north end of the Ishi Wilderness, and to teach a very full plate of leadership curriculum, in addition to all the hiking, cooking, and camping skills we had to teach. Though wildland firefighters spend days and weeks in the outdoors fighting fires, they normally have a support infrastructure not too far from the firefighting line, where they go to eat and sleep at the end of their shift, before they are sent back onto the line for 12 more hours. Backpacking, cooking meals over a whisper-lite stove, and off trail navigation, are not normally part of the wildland firefighters training and skill set, which is partly why this course was to be a test of their resilience and leadership.

As on every NOLS course I’ve been on, ‘kaka’ just seems to happen in the field to make things challenging and interesting, and which tests our resilience and leadership. When the trails on the map did not match the trails on the ground (we purposefully don’t use GPS) we got lost, and had to deal with different reactions to uncertainty, fatigue, and discomfort in our hiking group. When my hiking group was unable to make the end-of-day rendezvous with the other group, we realized that the leaders-of-the-day had not divided up the gear properly – the other group had three tents, we had one – so we jammed 5 large men into a tent made for, at most, 4. The next day, a cold front moved in, and in 10 short minutes, the temperatures dropped from a comfortable high fifties to low thirties, with almost gale force winds, snow and sleet blowing sideways. That night, we camped cold and ‘dry’ (there was no water source nearby,) so while we learned about hypothermia prevention, we also learned about melting snow for water, keeping our boots from freezing, and other important cold weather skills.

‘Tolerance for uncertainty and adversity’ is one of the NOLS leadership skills, and indeed these ‘adversities’ were the highlights of the week. In the retelling, I enjoyed listening to how 30 degrees became 20, then 10 degrees, and how we had trudged, head down through a white-out snow blizzard, facing all but certain death! Yep, these are the same kind of guys I spent my career with in the military!

We were in the field over 7 and 8 November – national Election Day. We were carrying a satphone and discussed the option of calling in to learn the results, but our firefighters opted NOT to find out who won the national election until after we returned. They preferred to keep our wilderness experience ‘pure,’ unadulterated by the chaos we knew was going on in the ‘front country.’ We often remarked to ourselves how, in our simple lives of hiking, cooking, eating, sleeping – the election seemed so remote and irrelevant. At the end of the week, sitting at the road-head waiting for our pick up vehicle, many had all but forgotten about the election. But I stopped a passing hunter in his pick-up truck, and learned the news.

In our group, just like in the rest of America, there were some who were elated, some who were disappointed, others who were indifferent. But the results had no impact on our expedition, or what we had learned, or how we felt about each other. We had just spent a week sleeping, cooking, eating, and hiking together, taking care of each other, in good times and bad, and in the process, we became better men together. And as a result, I believe they also became better firefighters, more resilient and effective leaders, better able to protect the rest of us and our wildlands from the scourge of uncontrolled fires. To us, in that time and place, that is what was most important, most immediate, most relevant. And, we didn’t see any rattlesnakes, with or without sombreros!

Wildland Firefighters on our week-long expedition

Note: The Ishi Wilderness where we hiked is named after the last primitive Native American to come into civilization. During the late 1800’s the Yana and Yahi Indians were all but wiped out by white settlers and vigilantes. The few survivors stayed hidden in the mountains, scrupulously avoiding any contact with whites, hunting, fishing, and living the way they had for millennia. In 1911, all the rest of his tribe having died, a nearly 50 year old man, ‘Ishi,’ came out of the same mountains that we had hiked in, into white man’s civilization, expecting to be killed. Instead, he was brought to San Francisco, and there began a fascinating meeting of Neolithic and 20^th century man. Ishi learned our ways, as he taught us his. He died 4 years later of tuberculosis, one of the white man’s diseases that killed a large proportion of all Native Americans. Those who got to know Ishi during his short time in Western Civilization, said that in many ways, he was more ‘civilized’- in his manners, morals, and character – than most of us. A good summary of the story is in Wikipedia under ‘Ishi,’ and I’d recommend the book “Ishi in Two Worlds” by Theodora Kroeber.

———

SEALs and SWCCs are practical men.  And war is one of the most ‘practical’ of human activities.  In war, that which works saves lives and civilizations; that which doesn’t costs lives (often thousands of them, sometimes millions) and risks national independence.  Results of decisions, good and bad, are dramatic and often immediate.  Warriors, therefore, are conditioned to be very practical, and the closer one gets to the actual killing and dying in war, the more ‘practical’ war becomes.

That is why warriors are men of action – training is never over, you can always train harder, you can always be more ready.  In the stress of combat, when the bullets are flying, muscle memory and well-trained automatic response is what wins fights and saves lives.  There is little wonder that warriors often have an aversion to military theory and academic study.  Indeed most of our warriors are too busy honing their practical skills to have much time for books.  They are men of action, and reading is…well….passive.

And yet, there is a well-known quote from the ancient Greek historian Thucydides, one of the first great writers about war:  “The nation that makes a great distinction between its scholars and its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools.”

No doubt, many of our thinkers are cowards, and some of our fighters may be fools, but his point is that the best warriors are also thinkers, and the best thinkers are also courageous.  The early years of a warrior’s time in the military MUST be spent intensely focused on mastering the practical and tactical skills necessary to fight, survive, and win in combat.   But sooner or later, our best Naval Special Warriors realize that in order to truly excel as leaders and warriors, they need to tap into the breadth of experiences and ideas that others have written about, and include in their professional repertoire perspectives that come from the literature of their profession.

I realized after several years in the Teams that I had unconsciously decided to make the military my profession and career.  With that realization came the commitment to understand my profession and learn as much about it as possible.  I began by reading accounts of special operators in combat, either first person or in biography, and was surprised to find a great body of literature in this area.   Great stories of special operations-like combat, with lessons learned very relevant to today’s conflicts, are available from nearly all wars, from the US Civil War and before, to a tremendous body of literature from WW2 and Vietnam, and increasingly from more recent conflicts.   I learned how others struggled and rose to meet enormous challenges, how they dealt with their own uncertainties and mistakes, how they managed leadership issues with difficult people up and down the chain of command, under the stress of combat or the struggle to survive.  Though I had never been to war, I began to get a better understanding of fighting in war, of the scope of warfare itself.  I also learned about myself, as I tried to put myself into some of the situations I read about, and questioned whether I would have been ready to do what needed to be done.  The training moment in “book learning” happens when we ask ourselves, “what would I have done?” and then answer that question with BRUTAL honesty.

The idea that SEALs should read, and study their profession had never been emphasized to me or my colleagues during our professional development.  Our leaders didn’t stress it with us, because it had never been stressed with them.   The NSW community has made progress in this area.   But I suspect more can be done.

During my final command tour, I had an offsite that began with each leader – CO, XO, CMC – sharing with the entire group a brief summary and lessons learned from a book they had read.  Some resisted; professional reading had not been part of their lives.  But most were pleased to be ‘forced’ to read a book they’d heard about from their colleagues. Other CO’s have created professional reading groups within their commands, leading by example, with monthly or bi-monthly meetings to discuss a book all had read, or to share different books that each had read.  I am aware of innovative and intellectually curious JOs creating their own reading groups, and once the initiative had been taken, others – officers and NCOs – requested to be included.

There is no shortage of well written and easily accessible books very relevant to the Naval Special Warfare profession.  But don’t forget, being a Naval Special Warrior is a subset of being a military professional, and professional reading about the experiences, challenges and cultures of the conventional forces not only expands a special operator’s perspective, it opens doors.  Every career Marine has read Rifleman Dodd, With the Old Breed, and First to Fight – great books for every Naval Special Warrior to read.  Every career Army officer I know has read We Were Soldiers Once…and Young, and Killer Angels.  For more current literature, consider Bing West’s The Wrong War, or Into the Fire, or Sebastian Junger’s War.  For the more thoughtful among you, I’d recommend Karl Marlantes’ What It Is Like to Go to War or J. Glenn Gray’s The Warriors. 

The mind is like a muscle – when you exercise it, it gets stronger. Exercising the mind, just like exercising the body, is best done with others.  So I’d suggest that you get some of your buddies to agree to read a particular book (I say ‘some,’ because I’ve found that most who say they will, don’t) and then set a date to meet, drink a beer or two, talk about the book and how it applies to you and your profession. It may be an important step toward making you a well-rounded military professional, as well as a better all-round warrior.

This is part 2 because I have already written on this topic for Naval Special Warfare’s Ethos magazine, and posted it in this blog in January of this year – just scroll down.   I think it was a pretty good essay, but it didn’t get much attention when I wrote it – but it was certainly timely.   I’ve been thinking about ‘Mark Owen’s’ recently published book about his experiences during the preparations and conduct of the mission which killed Osama bin Laden, and thought I would add my two cents into what has now become a national discussion – not that my input will be included in that discussion, but I continue to be asked my thoughts on it, and so I share them here.

I’ll begin by referring to my first essay, “Quiet Professionals in Naval Special Warfare” (Part 1).  I wrote then, and continue to believe that we need SEALs to share their experiences – but not just SEALs;  ship-drivers, aviators, submariners, Marines, Airmen, Soldiers, politicians, diplomats, businessmen.    We learn by hearing, reading, and discussing the stories of others.  Those who have participated in and learned from important events, and then who share their perspectives with us, do us all a great service.   Without these first person accounts of eye-witnesses to history, our civilization would be much poorer.

The contentious issue for me in the case of ‘Mark Owen,’ is how it was done, when, and to what purpose.  In Part 1, I offered three criteria by which I suggested we judge whether former SEALs sharing their perspectives and story in public deserves our praise or our condemnation.  Let’s consider these in judging No Easy Day:

1. Is it fair and honest, and does it constructively contribute to the public understanding of NSW? Or does it primarily promote self-interest or a personal agenda?
2. Is the warrior exhibiting ‘a strong dose of humility,’ to include respect toward those with whom he might disagree?
3. Does the perspective or story serve the interests of those still in the arena, or does it make their lives and work more difficult, more complicated, or even more dangerous?

I have not yet read No Easy Day, but I’ve read reviews by people who have.  It appears that the book may arguably meet criterion one regarding the factual content – perhaps not regarding the personal agenda.  I am led to understand that it meets part of criterion two, in that it appears that ‘Mark Owen’ is a straightforward guy telling his story as he experienced it, and it appears that he is not grandstanding to exaggerate his role.  And from the reviews I’ve read, it doesn’t appear that he has any axes to grind, though he apparently is not a fan of President Obama. And several who have read it say that it does not appear to reveal tactics, techniques or procedures not already well known in the public sector.

However, publishing this book clearly does not meet criterion three.  I believe that getting his story out into the press at this time, will significantly hurt the guys still in the fight.

The timing could hardly be worse.   While some will disagree with me, I believe this story needs to be told, and I expect and hope that we’ll eventually see additional books by participants in this classic and history-changing raid.  But now is not the time.  Not yet.  It is too soon.  Not during the heat of a presidential election, not right in the wake of Act of Valor, at a time when you can hardly turn on the television or read the newspaper without finding former SEALs pontificating on matters of politics, strategy, or national security.  Former SEALs have recently not been ‘quiet’ professionals, and it seems that many are drawing attention to themselves, for purposes that are not consistent with the Professional Military, or the SEAL, Ethos.  The fact that  ‘Owen’ and his advisors chose to rush to press and ignore established protocols designed to give proper attention to matters of national security, suggest that he was in a big hurry – perhaps to beat his team mates into the market.  Had he waited until a more appropriate time, the political issues would have diminished, and we still would have gotten his story.

My sense – and fear – is that the timing and manner of the release of this book will do damage to the credibility and reputation of the Navy SEALs that may take a long time to mend.  Senior political and military leaders may think twice about having SEALs included in sensitive missions, wondering how soon they will see a recently separated Navy SEAL, seeking celebrity status,  discussing it on Good Morning America, or Imus, or 60 minutes.    You can almost hear senior leaders thinking: “Which one of these guys will go to the press, or write a book?  We’re not sure we can trust the SEALs.”

I recall General Wayne Downing telling me when he was Commander of US Special Operations Command, “You have no idea how much damage Dick Marcinko has done to the reputation of your community.”  I thought we had finally weathered that storm, and restored our reputation as ‘military professionals,’ but a friend of mine, who is very senior in the military establishment, recently told me regarding the impact of this book, essentially that we have no idea how much damage No Easy Day has done to the SEAL community’s reputation within the Department of Defense.

What also makes the untimely release of this book particularly painful, is that it appears ‘Mark Owen’ violated the trust of his team mates, caused damage to the reputation of the Naval Special Warfare community in which he’d honorably served, and made himself a pariah….for money.   It appears that in order to be first-to-market with the first-person account of the raid, and to garner the fame, notoriety, and the biggest pay check, ‘Mark Owen’ readily violated the ethos of his SEAL tribe, and the military ethos that places ship and shipmate before self.

‘Owen’ says he just wanted to tell his story and the story needed to be told. And others (among whom, the President, Vice President, the SECDEF, and others) may have already revealed what previously would not have been revealed, and perhaps for self-serving purposes. But they were not part of the Tribe – they were not sworn to be ‘quiet professionals,’ sworn to live up to an ethos of service before self, of honor, courage, and commitment, where service to the nation, team, and team mates always trumps opportunities for personal glory or gain. It appears that he has gone his own way, doing damage to his brothers who are still in the fight, for a healthy paycheck. We in the military, we in the Special Operations community, we in the SEALs, claim to be better than that. And because ‘Owen’ was a SEAL, the values and honor of the entire SEAL community are now called into question.

Am I going to read the book? Yes. It is now part of the national discussion, and unfortunately, just like Dick Marcinko’s Rogue Warrior a generation ago, it is now part of the identity, culture, and heritage of the Navy SEALs. Hopefully, those still in the fight can make adjustments to reduce the chances that this will happen again, and hopefully, senior military and political leaders will come to forgive us this one. I’m told that the SEAL community has an unpublished list of former SEALs who are persona non grata, and now ‘Owen’ is at the top. Though they may be toasted at celebrity cocktail parties, people on this list are no longer welcomed at Naval Special Warfare functions. Their names are no longer spoken with reverence and respect by those in the SEAL community. Their professional reputations are forever damaged. And though they may be laughing all the way to the bank, in the end, I continue to believe that the most important thing we have, is our honor and reputation within our community. You can’t buy those with a big bank account.

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After writing the above, I did view the 60 minutes interview with ‘Mark Owen’ and as I expected, I found him likable, credible and he told his story in what seemed to be an honest and straightforward manner.  He said he has the support of his former team mates in getting the true, inside story of the raid into the public arena, countering some of the various inaccurate versions that are out there.  Perhaps some of his team mates may support him, but certainly not the senior ones.  My experience in the Naval Special Warfare community is that many of the operators have little appreciation for the political nature of their work, and how credibility at senior levels is what provides resources, funding, and gives important missions to units.  As I stated above, no matter how credible and straightforward Mark Owen may appear on 60 minutes, bringing this story out now, in this manner, violates the rules of the tribe, and hurts the credibility of SEALs in the arena where key decisions are made.

-Do you often feel overwhelmed with managing the details of your complicated life?

-Do you never have enough time?

-Do you get anxious if you haven’t checked the news, your email, or your cell phone in a number of hours?

-Do animals (other than pets) and insects and dirt fill you with anxiety or disgust?

-Do you consider electricity, indoor plumbing, and climate control as essential to life as food and water?

If so, then you may be suffering from Nature Deficit Disorder.

Most of us have it in some form.  It is insidious and most are completely unaware of it.  Our Nature Deficit Disorder becomes a part of our lives unconsciously, just like the constant hum of traffic and sirens in the city, or a few drinks every night for the functioning alcoholic.  Civilization is for us like the air that we breathe, or the water fish swim in – we are so accustomed and adapted to it, we only notice it when its comforts are taken away.  But when we choose to step outside of our structured and very civilized lives, we often see ourselves differently.  And then we can become aware of our NDD.

For the last several years, I have  spent a number of days in the mountains of Wyoming.  This year I jokingly told my friends that I was going for my annual treatment for NDD – and we all chuckled.   It is not easy to unplug from my busy ‘front country’ life, but when I do get into the mountains, I realize that treating my NDD is more than a joke – it is indeed real. I realize how important this is for my mental and spiritual health.  Fully immersed in the front country, I often lose the perspective that I gain when I return to the back country.

Being in the back country, close to Nature, life is simple and requires a different set of practical skills.   One’s relationship with the elements and one’s own basic humanity is much more immediate than in the front country.  There is also a different relationship with time – it moves slower.   Away from civilization, we see time in terms of day and night, weather patterns, seasons, and geologic epochs.  The stopwatch, by which we seem to live in the front country, become irrelevant.  In the mountains, the things that concern us in our busy suburban lives don’t go away, but they certainly lose their urgency.

It is paradigm-altering to be in a natural setting with animals, insects, plants, the mountains, and the earth on their terms.  As civilized humans, we tend to feel that we are in-control; in the back country, we lose that illusion. When the storm comes, we and other animals scurry for a place to hide from the rain and the lightning.  If we can’t get across a stream, we have to find a place where we can.  If we get hurt, we have to deal with it.  If we run out of food, or a bear or a raccoon steals it, we go hungry – unless we can catch more fish, or otherwise live off what we find, or get back to civilization.  In short, for a little while and at least a little bit, we get closer to our less-civilized selves – we get a sense for ourselves as part of, rather than apart from, the continuum of Nature.

And then there are the joys of returning to civilization.   Turn a knob and get hot, clean water!  Go to the bathroom and sit on a toilet! Go to the refrigerator, to the grocery store, to a restaurant and get whatever food you want! Get in your car and cover miles in minutes!  These are all features of civilization that we then no longer take for granted.  Come back from a tryst with Nature, and we are like a children again: Wow, isn’t that amazing?!  Isn’t this wonderful?!

Bertrand Russell, one of the pre-eminent philosophers of the 20^th century, wrote that he believed a regular connection with nature and ‘the earth’ was essential to the fulfilled life.  For him, as an upper-class Englishmen, that meant long walks in the countryside and gardening.  Others find it through hunting and fishing, others through full or part time farming or ranching.  The University of Kansas just completed research that shows unequivocally that creativity increases measurably and significantly when one spends time immersed in the outdoors (see article here.)

I grew up fully immersed in the suburban life-style, with its focus on structure, predictability, and organized activities.  I had only a few clumsy Boy Scout trips into the wilderness.   My time in the woods or other remote areas as a SEAL was so focused on tactical necessities, that there was little opportunity to tune into the beauty or natural wonder of the environment.  Later in my post-Navy career, I have found that a total immersion experience of several days to several weeks, living out of a backpack in the mountains, has helped me reconnect to my place in the natural world.

Doing without that which we often believe we can’t live without, carrying  everything we need in a backpack, gives a special sense of freedom and independence.   Inevitably there is something I wish I had, but chose not to bring, due to limitations in pack size or not wanting to carry the extra weight.  Or perhaps I simply forgot it, or didn’t plan for it.  There is an old saying among experienced backpackers: If you don’t got it, you don’t need it.   This insight can serve us well in the front country too.

There is a spiritual humility that comes from spending time in a place where the illusions of our civilized life are stripped away, and we realize that indeed, we are part of Nature and its cycles, of life and death, of that which appears, and then disappears, and we realize that ultimately, we are not ‘in control.’  When we gaze with wonder upon glacially cut mountains and valleys, or we see how quickly the jungle reclaims that which is left untended, it is easier to realize that in the span of eternity, our life is like one of the sparks that floats up from the camp fire, glows brightly for a moment, and then disappears…

For most civilized folk, visiting and getting to know Nature requires some training and education.  Going into the mountains, jungle or wilderness is best done with a guide and done in increments.  It is similar to visiting Shanghai, or any other ‘different’ culture. We are always vulnerable, but the unprepared, the naïve, the uneducated, the arrogant, are most vulnerable, and stories are legion, both in Shanghai, and in Nature, of the fate of unassuming and naïve ‘tourists.’  Those of you who know me know that I am partial to the National Outdoor Leadership School, but there are many very competent and otherwise well respected organizations that can help you to reconnect with Nature, at your own pace and in a way that works for you, and help you safely and effectively address the Nature Deficit Disorder that is a ‘natural’ by- product of living with the joys, comforts, and wonders of our 21^st century civilization.

Note: “Nature Deficit Disorder” is not my term.  It was coined by Richard Louv in his 2005 book Last Child in the Woods, in which he discusses how and why children are spending less time outdoors. He makes a strong case that this has resulted in a wide range of behavioral and other problems in our society.   There is a nice little article on NDD in Wikipedia at  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nature_deficit_disorder 

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Call it what you will – a ménage a trois, a three legged stool, a harmonic trio, a powerful triumvirate.  The point of this essay is that success for the Fighter, the Family, and the Fleet/ Navy demands that they collaborate as a team, and each must make sacrifices to make the team work.  I have found it useful to think of this three-way relationship as a ‘ménage a trois.’   ‘Ménage’ is French for household and ‘trois’ is three – you may know ‘Ménage a Trois’ as the popular wine that is a wonderful blend of Cabernet, Merlot, and Shiraz.  For our purposes, the Fighter , the Family (particularly the spouse) and the Fleet (meaning the Navy) must work together for the benefit of each and the whole.  If they work at cross purposes or compete with each other, each for their own advantage at the expense of the others, everyone loses.

Increasing Naval Special Warfare (NSW) commitments around the world has increased the stress on our warriors and their families, resulting in less effective warriors, retention shortfalls, broken marriages, and children who have to endure not only having their warrior parent away, but also tension and stress in the family when the warrior is home.

In some ways, not only our enemies but also our families have become victims of our operational successes.

Managing that stress requires communication, teamwork, and collaboration.  We’ve all seen the ménage crack and break up –it is painful to watch.    But we also know colleagues who make it work.  They excel in the field or in the Team, while at home their families thrive. How do they do it? For this ménage a trois to work, each member has an important role to play – it is truly a three-way relationship.

The role of the ‘Fighter’ – the warrior.  I recall as a Commanding Officer calling an outstanding young SEAL into my office to talk about the 60-70 hours he was working every week, and the 75 days of leave he had on the books.  I tried to encourage him to back off a bit, and to take some leave with his family. He politely and professionally told me to mind my own business.   Not many years later, I was saddened but not surprised to learn that he was divorced and his kids were struggling and in trouble.  Our warriors get important psychic rewards from the respect of their peers, and they are driven by the desire to excel as special operators.  And yet, while holding on to that ideal, most choose to get married and have families. They aspire to be good husbands and fathers, but soon realize (or are reminded by their spouses) that this new role as husband and father has responsibilities that frequently require compromising some of their focus on their professional ideal.   The family man/warrior eventually has to turn down or postpone great professional opportunities, in order to put essential time and energy into their marriage, taking care of the kids or doing work around the house.    Every senior NSW leader I know has had to bite his tongue when accosted by an angry spouse for making her husband go on yet another exercise, training event, or deployment, when the leader knows that her husband literally begged to go on that trip.  The warrior is a player in this ménage – he is not merely a passive victim, responding to demands made by the other two players.

The role of the Family and spouse.  We have to assume that the spouse knew that she was marrying someone who either was, or aspired to be, a SEAL or SWCC warrior.  It is no secret that the Navy makes heavy demands on its sailors and their families, and spouses by and large are reconciled to that.  On the other hand, many of us have known spouses who have bitterly resented the Navy, and/or the Teams for the demands that they have made on their families, and (sometimes) for the seemingly adolescent, fun-with-the-boys behavior that ‘the brotherhood’ may bring out in their husbands.     When the spouse is not reconciled to the culture of the Navy or the Teams, it puts significant stress on the marriage, and on the life and professional work of the warrior.  For this ménage to work, the spouse must willingly accept and become friends with that other key player in the warrior’s life – the Navy and the Teams.  Though it may sometimes be difficult, the spouse must try to appreciate the positive sides of the Navy/Teams culture, and accept that there will be sacrifices, as well as rewards.  As one NSW spouse put it to me, “When the spouses feel embraced and respected by the community, they are more likely to make the necessary sacrifices with more pride, and LESS resentment.”

The role of the ‘Fleet’ – the Navy.   The Navy is the 900 pound gorilla in this ménage.  It has been struggling for decades to find the proper balance between using its authority to meet ‘the needs of the Navy,’ and letting some of its objectives slide to support the needs of the family.  Navy and NSW leaders know that they can only draw so much on the good will of the warrior and the family – until the good will and dedication ‘account’ gets dangerously low.    Warriors and their families see their Commanding Officer and Command Master Chief, and Platoon Commander and Platoon Chief, as Navy representatives, since it is they who communicate larger Navy and NSW leadership policy to warriors and families.   These leaders are also closest to the warrior-family connection in the ménage, and must communicate warrior and family concerns to the Navy and NSW leadership.   Navy/NSW leaders must pay attention to these concerns, while continuing to fight for the manning and resources to permit a sustainable optempo.

Obviously, it is important to have a loving, trusting, and compassionate relationship between the warrior and his spouse and family, but addressing that is beyond the scope of this essay.  However, the other key player in the ménage a trois, the Navy, clearly has a role to play in how well that warrior-family relationship functions and evolves.  When the team works well, and all three players are doing their part and collaborating toward the success of each and all, we have three strong players and a whole that is more than the sum of its parts.

This essay appears in the current edition of Naval Special Warfare’s Ethos magazine.  The essay was inspired by discussions I’ve had with colleagues about the challenges SEALs now face, being in the spotlight as the new American heroes and media darlings.  This can be pretty heady stuff with some new and unfamiliar challenges for young men who have been trained primarily for intense combat in remote regions.  The picture to the left is of Tommy Norris, a  SEAL Medal of Honor recipient from the Vietnam war.  Ethos magazine  is available to the public at http://www.public.navy.mil/nsw/Publications/Issue%2016%20final.pdf

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Heroism comes in many flavors, colors, and contexts, as does courage, from which it springs.  The ‘heroism’ I address in this short essay is the heroism borne of courage and exceptional performance in combat.

A friend recently shared with me that he had overheard a couple of SEAL combat veterans belittling other military members who had not ‘been there, done that’ in the war, implying that they were somehow not worthy.   My friend had the distinct sense that these young SEALS felt that as combat veterans and ‘war heroes,’ they had earned certain ‘entitlements.’  A decorated Vietnam veteran himself, my friend was disturbed by what he heard.

So I began to think about the ‘entitlements’ of heroism. While we can never condone arrogance or ‘hubris’ (excessive pride,) I can understand to a certain degree where these young men were coming from.  They came into the Teams with dreams of becoming war heroes, and after enduring a stringent selection process, years of hard training and sacrifice, followed by multiple deployments into god-forsaken places, and conducting operations in which they risked death or significant injury, it is certainly understandable that they believe they have earned certain entitlements.   And they have.

They have earned, and fully deserve, the respect, appreciation and admiration of the American people, who owe their American way of life to the willingness of men and women to go into harm’s way to protect it. And they have earned the pay, medical and other veteran’s entitlements that are within the contractual agreement that the American people have made to them through our nations laws. And they have earned the right to be proud of having served and sacrificed for a greater good, for their family, community, and nation.

But their entitlements do not extend beyond that. Arrogance is never justified, nor is a sense of superiority over others who may not have had the desire, courage, or opportunity to go into harm’s way in battle.   While the accomplishments of our community may have earned public admiration, we must never demand it. When it does come – as it has in abundance of late – we should accept it with humility and grace.

I’ve found that what real war heroes aspire to most, is not an entitlement, but something that must be earned every day – the respect and admiration of their fellow warriors.  We can’t fool our fellow warriors – they smell a phony in a heart-beat – and they give their admiration only grudgingly.  Whatever we may have done in the past, fellow warriors want to know what we’re doing today, for our shipmates, our team, our country.  Warriors hold each other accountable for continuing to serve, and serve well.  “<Wearing my trident> is a privilege I must earn every day.” (SEAL Ethos).

The public, on the other hand, can be easy to impress – at least in the short term.  The media eagerly gives celebrity status to anyone who happens to catch the public’s attention, for good or for ill, but today’s media darling is frequently tomorrow’s goat.  Like it or not, the media and the public have recently put the spotlinght on us, and want to make Naval Special Warriors into today’s celebrities – war heroes to look up to – and they want to make every guy who has gone through our training a steely-eyed war-hero, epitomizing all that is good in the American male.

This spotlight is uncomfortable, not only for security considerations, but also due to the increased scrutiny and accountability it brings.  “We as a community are not used to operating under such a spotlight,” RADM Pybus recently told the Armed Forces Communications Electronics Association- West conference. A few days later, Admiral William McRaven, told the National Defense Industrial Association  Special Operations Low Intensity Conflict convention that sometimes “the spotlight on us actually makes us better,” by making us more accountable.

This ‘spotlight’ holds us accountable for what I call ‘the responsibilities of heroism.’  These responsibilities are simple, but they are not easy.   Honor, courage, quiet professionalism, humility, and exemplary citizenship – essentially, the ideals outlined in the SEAL Ethos.  Once you become a hero, you are always held to account, and expectations are high.

It can be instructive to look at the character of our greatest war heroes.  You will rarely meet people more humble than those who have been awarded the Medal of Honor.  All with whom I’ve spoken are very humble when explaining why they did what they did, how they survived, how many of their friends they lost.  None will claim to be a hero – “I was just doing my job, and somehow was lucky,” they will nearly all say.  They know firsthand the ‘responsibilities of heroism,’ for having borne them for so long.  Army Sgt Sammy Davis, Medal of Honor recipient, speaking about soldiering and life, told me, ”Heroes are those who do their duty, for their brothers-in-arms and God and country first, and then take care of themselves second.”

Becoming a hero isn’t easy; but neither is living in the spotlight as American heroes. For more than 50 years, we have excelled as warriors;  now we must also excel as ‘heroes.’  The respect and admiration that comes with heroism brings with it more responsibilities than entitlements.  True heroes understand this.

Mediocre Marathon Runners

I use this title partly in jest.   ‘Mediocrity’ is, almost by definition, that which is not ‘praiseworthy.’  And yet in my comments that follow, I hope to point out that what appears to us as mediocre does not automatically warrant derision or embarrassment.  There is an important place for mediocrity in this world, and often there is much to be celebrated in the mediocre. And I’m proud of my contributions to that great sea of mediocrity that sustains us all!I recently presented myself to my Toastmasters club as ‘the Prince of Mediocrity,’ declaring that I am mediocre at more activities that anyone else I know.  My comments were partly in jest – one evaluator accused me of false modesty, and described my presentation as an example of ‘overstated understatement.’  And yet it is true – I have chosen the path of being just OK, or at best, ‘pretty good’ at a number of activities, and not truly excellent at any.

Mediocre is in contrast to the truly excellent – a level of achievement attained by great talent, combined with great effort. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book  Outliers and Geoff Colvin in his book Talent is Overrated, claim that 10,000 hours of focussed hard work and practice are necessary to achieve true excellence in any field.  We admire on television and on youtube those who perform at the highest levels in sports, movies, the arts.  In newspapers, magazines, and books we are inspired by the persistence, greatness of spirit, and the achievements of the great in politics, science and ideas, exploration, and even, everyday life.   We are not particularly interested in the modest achievements of those with common talent, or limited drive and persistence (though  the popularitiy of The Jersey Shore may argue this point.)  We are surrounded by mediocrity in our day-to-day lives, we might say.  It is uninspiring and uninteresting.  So what is there to praise about it?

Mediocrity is so very human.  All of us, even the great, are mediocre at much of what we do – whether it be cooking, automobile repair or maintenance, housekeeping, computer skills, even personal hygiene and diet.  And we have to accept that about ourselves, or be burdened with guilt and stress.   Though mediocrity is not the pinnacle of achievement,  it is not necessarily to be mocked, except perhaps in those who promise and claim excellence, and deliver much less.

Or when we are laughing at ourselves and our own mediocre efforts, talents,  and achievements – a healthy sense of humor and humility are essential to appreciating the mediocrity in our lives.

Those who will accept nothing less than excellence, for whom mediocrity is simply unacceptable, are often loath to enter into any activity at which they may not excel.  “If it’s worth doing at all,” they say,  “it’s worth doing well.”  But how many things can we truly do well?   My counter to that aphorism might be:  “Not everything that is worth doing, is worth doing well.”  Many over-achievers will not take up golf, fitness, music, art, kayaking, whatever, because they are afraid to be associated with the almost inevitable mediocre performance that comes with entry into any of these activities.  Accepting mediocrity opens the door to trying new activities.

I also pity those who spend their lives regretting excellence not achieved. Remember Terry Malloy, the former boxer played by Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront.  Who can forget his anguished cry, “I coulda been a contender”?  We all know people who have lived their whole lives disappointed at the excellence they never achieved, rather than enjoying what (mediocre) achievements they may have had, and what good fortune did come their way.  Accepting mediocrity helps us to accept ourselves, and appreciate our lives, even when we may not have been at our best.

Achieving true excellence demands sacrifice and can come at great cost.  Life, literature, and history are full of examples of heroes who attained a very high level of excellence - indeed ‘GREATNESS’ – in one field, while the rest of their lives were a shambles.  Think of Hemingway. Or Ernest Shackleton. Or Mickey Mantle.  Or perhaps Mike Tyson, Tiger Woods, or Charlie Sheen.  In Hollywood, great actors whose lives are NOT a mess seem to be an exception.   While we may praise their ‘excellence,’  it is with reservation and caveat.  A willingness to accept and even appreciate something less than excellence might open these heroes’ eyes to the value of the rest of life, outside their field of excellence.

And then there are those who sit on the sidelines and criticize, only respecting ‘excellence,’ while they ridicule those who may not be excelling.    We are reminded of Teddy Roosevelt’s “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.”

Those of us who have learned to accept mediocrity, can enjoy a mediocre round of golf, without it ruining our whole day. Or a mediocre workout, or even a mediocre performance in a competition.  We will take on a new challenge, even when we are unlikely to excel.  We have learned to laugh at and accept less than stellar performance, learn from it, and move on.  Again we return to Teddy Roosevelt “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds.”

“Who strives valiantly…”  may be a clue.  Mediocre results are much easier to accept, and even praise, in those who have striven valiantly.  Maybe it’s because I’m well into middle age – but there are only a few things for which I’ll ‘strive valiantly’ – and I pick those battles carefully.  In the remainder of my endeavors, I may strive…but depending on how I feel and what’s at stake, often not valiantly.    Mediocre effort is NOT acceptable however, if one has promised a valiant effort, or committed to a specific result, or when the lives, and well-being of others are at stake.  Those cases demand a valiant effort, and anything less deserves our contempt.

We mediocritites (don’t bother to look it up) play an important role in this world:  It is we who help inspire and motivate others to doggedly pursue excellence.  It is we who make the truly excellent look good.  Without the rest of us, there would be no one against whom the great could be judged as ‘truly excellent.’  As Walter Stack, an old long distance runner of the 70’s once said, “My role here is to help the rest of you guys to look good.”

We mediocritites make the world go round, supporting, inspiring, and cheering on those who are truly excellent.  When the strivers say that we are not fulfilling our potential by setting our bar too low, we just laugh and go have another drink, and wish them well – and remind them that there isn’t a lot of room at the top – somebody has to hold up the bottom of the pyramid.

The reality is that, as we get older, everything we do seems to slide toward mediocrity – except hopefully, our attitude and our wisdom.  The happiest people in middle age and beyond have come to terms with mediocre performance as part of life – not to be lamented, but to give depth to those rare occasions when we do something truly exceptional. As a golfer, I enjoy watching the Champions Tour, watching former greats humbled, but with a smile on their face, as they roll with a bad round and congratulate whomever may be having a good, or even a great day. In fact I suppose that is one of the things I like about golf – if you can’t live with mediocrity, you have no business playing golf.

In praising mediocrity, we are enjoying the glass half-full – which is so much of what life offers us, rather than cursing that same half-empty glass.  If we can’t enjoy mediocrity, and laugh along with our own foibles and those of others, then there isn’t much joy to be had.  The truly excellent is, by its nature, rare and unusual.

We mediocritites are life’s decathletes…we play at a number of different activities, and though we may not excel at any of them, we enjoy playing.  We set our bar where WE want to set it, and cheer ourselves on when we get over our low bar.   Somehow I believe taking on a variety of activities creates a whole (person) who is more than the sum of his mediocre parts.  Our place “shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” We are in the arena, and to those who may mock us for not having striven valiantly or achieved excellence, I respond, ‘Living well is the best revenge.’

So, how’s that for a mediocre essay?