Summertime Reflections

Summertime Reflections from the Island

3 min read

August is just around the corner, and I’ve always considered it an extraordinary month. January gets all the attention because it’s full of resolutions and ambition. September isn’t much different. It has its own energy as vacations come to an end, children go back to school and many of us return to our businesses with renewed focus. August sits quietly on its own. It doesn’t ask us to reinvent ourselves. It simply gives us a little space. And perhaps that’s becoming one of the rarest gifts we have.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot this summer.

Like many of you, my life hasn’t exactly slowed down just because the calendar says it’s summer. I’ve finally made the move to Gabriola Island, which has been every bit as beautiful as I’d hoped and every bit as chaotic as I should have expected. The renovation has become an ongoing lesson in patience and flexibility, and if all goes according to plan, sometime in the next few weeks I’ll meet my first granddaughter. Somewhere in between all of that I’ve been coaching, writing, speaking, building new programs and spending an extraordinary amount of time thinking about artificial intelligence.

It’s an interesting collection of challenges, but likely no odder than yours or anyone else’s. That’s the thing I’ve come to appreciate over time. We all imagine everyone else is living one story at a time while we’re juggling six. Then you sit down with someone over coffee and discover they’re caring for aging parents, worrying about a child, building a business, planning a move, navigating a health challenge and wondering what comes next in their career. Life has a habit of arriving all at once.

Maybe that’s why August feels different to me. It isn’t really about slowing down. It’s about looking up.

When we’re racing from one commitment to the next, we tend to ask practical questions. What has to get done today? What’s next? What deadline am I forgetting? Those questions matter, but they’re rarely the ones that change us. The questions that have been following me around lately are quieter than that. What am I learning? What has surprised me this year? What assumptions have I changed my mind about? What do I want to carry into the fall, and what would I be happy to leave behind?

Artificial intelligence has been responsible for more of those questions than I ever expected.

Many of you know I’ve been immersed in AI over the past year as I develop new programs and rethink the future of negotiation. Like everyone else, I started by asking what AI could do. Somewhere along the way I realized I was asking the wrong question. The more interesting question is what AI asks of us.

For me, the answer has been unexpectedly reassuring.

It asks us to become more thoughtful. More curious. Better listeners. Better observers of people. It asks us to think more critically, not less. The easier it becomes to generate information, the more valuable judgment becomes. The faster answers arrive, the more important good questions become. I don’t think the future belongs to the people who know the most. I think it belongs to the people who remain the most curious.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve found myself enjoying this season so much, despite the dust, the decisions and the inevitable surprises that accompany both renovations and life. It has reminded me that growth rarely happens when everything is neat and organized. More often it happens in the middle of uncertainty, when we’re paying attention, staying curious and giving ourselves permission to change our minds.

So before September sweeps us all back into full speed, I’d encourage you to find an hour somewhere. Sit on a dock if you have one. Walk a trail. Take your coffee onto the deck before anyone else is awake. Leave your phone behind if you can. Ask yourself a few questions that don’t have anything to do with productivity.

What has this year been trying to teach you?

What are you becoming better at?

What deserves more of your attention?

The answers may not arrive immediately, but I’ve learned that the best ones rarely do.

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