Tag: courage

Whence solidarity?

~ Sasha ~ 3 Comments

Here’s a simple idea on what to do about taxes for the wealthiest Americans:

For those making more than $1 million — there were 236,883 such households in 2009 — I would raise rates immediately on taxable income in excess of $1 million, including, of course, dividends and capital gains. And for those who make $10 million or more — there were 8,274 in 2009 — I would suggest an additional increase in rate.

Before arguing the merits of this proposal, I should point out something important: it’s not my proposal.  No, this is Warren Buffett’s proposal as detailed in his courageous Op-Ed in yesterday’s NY Times, Stop Coddling the Super-Rich.

Some shocking (to me) tidbits from the Op Ed: Warren Buffett paid 17.4% of his taxable income (about $7M) in federal income tax last year, less than the other 20 people in his office – this because most of his income is in the form of “carried interest” rather than (for a regular working Joe) in payroll taxes.  This is why, even though the aggregate income of the 400 richest Americans has increased more than five-fold in the last 20 years – from $19.6 billion to $90.9 billion (an average of $227 million in annual income!) – the tax rate paid by this group has dropped over this period from 29.2% to 21.5%.

Of course the tempting headline to write is something like: “FEDERAL TAXES PAID BY THE RICHEST AMERICANS HAVE DROPED BY ONE THIRD IN THE LAST TWO DECADES.”

But that’s exactly the approach that’s not going to work – think of the cries of “class warfare” that would result.

In fact the whole narrative around the budget stalemate in Washington is completely stuck, and part of the reason is because we have no shared language to talk about this problem.  Republicans talk about “raising taxes on the rich” and “killing jobs,” while Democrats, at best, talk about the super-rich “paying their fair share” and about “increased revenues.”

I wish there were more talk of solidarity.  A close friend of mine in Tokyo shared that almost no one is turning on their air conditioning in the wake of the Fukishima nuclear plant disaster.  Can we not have the same sense of shared purpose around turning around the U.S. economy – the crisis is real, millions are out of work, people have gone from spending six months looking for a job to, now, more like two years.  (Buffett: “While the poor and middle class fight for us in Afghanistan, and while most Americans struggle to make ends meet, we mega-rich continue to get our extraordinary tax breaks.”)

How long until we turn the budget conversation from one about divvying up a fixed pie to one about collectively solving this problem?  And why is it so hard to talk about the notion that the wealthiest should not, on average, pay a lower percentage of their income in taxes than should middle class Americans?

As Warren Buffett said, “I know well many of the mega-rich and, by and large, they are very decent people. They love America and appreciate the opportunity this country has given them…My friends and I have been coddled long enough by a billionaire-friendly Congress. It’s time for our government to get serious about shared sacrifice.”

Potshotters

~ Sasha ~ 2 Comments

POTSHOTTER  noun \pot-ˈsho-tər\

1 : someone who primarily or exclusively provides criticism

2:  a person who critiques, tears down, weakens

 

What could be easier than sitting back and describing how something could be better?

“If I were in charge, I’d…”

“This thing is a mess, I can’t believe they let this happen…”

What could be harder than leaning forward and making it better?

Leaning forward, putting yourself on the line, coming up with your own ideas that might be right and might be wrong, getting into the messy thick of things….that’s the hard part, the real part, the valuable part, the part that scares the pants off of most everyone.

The emotional chasm

~ Sasha ~ 4 Comments

“Fundraising is all about relationships,” we say.

Sure.

And then we churn through lists and count the level of activity for members of our team (how many calls, how many meetings, etc.), because actually measuring relationships and whether they’re being created is really, really hard.

Of course you must churn through the list.  You must reach out more.  It’s non-negotiable.  You don’t get to hide behind “I’m a relationship-builder so I don’t do proactive outreach” because the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

But you’ll be churning through lists forever, with the same disappointing effort-to-outcome ratio, if you don’t get more of your relationships to cross the emotional chasm.

You know it when it happens – those people with whom you made a genuine connection, those people who touched you as much as you touched them.  You know it because you understand these people in a different way – and they understand you in a different way – because you have shared something genuine about who you are, deep down in your soul.

I know.  It’s uncomfortable to actually say that kind of thing out loud.

But we’re in this because we actually want to make the world a better place, right?  There’s nothing more real, honest and vulnerable than that.  That’s why this job is so hard when you’re trying to protect yourself and keep things at arm’s length, and why it becomes natural when you allow real human connection to happen, even if just for an instant.

Chimamanda Adichie: The danger of a single story

~ Sasha ~ 5 Comments

I can’t believe it took me until now to watch Chimamanda Adichie’s profound TED talk about the danger of a single story.  A friend shared it with me the day before I discovered that it’s one of the twenty most-viewed TED talks of all time.

This weekend (especially if you’re celebrating Independence Day), give yourself a gift and put aside 18 minutes to watch this.  The talk defines the power of story to subjugate, the heart of stereotypes held by everyone – even well-meaning, kind people – and how they limit all of us.  It is at times profound, wise, humorous, and hopeful. 

And if you’re as moved as I was, you’ll quickly get a sample of Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun on your Kindle, start reading, and not be able to put it down.  Enjoy.

The fragility of generosity

~ Sasha ~ 5 Comments

I was talking to Katya Andresen about our preliminary plans for Generosity Day 2012, and she made a profound observation.  “Generosity” is a fragile thing: it’s impossible to talk about generosity without being vulnerable, impossible to be truly generous without opening yourself up.

It’s so easy for me to live in a safe place, to plan and to analyze and to do things that make a difference and that don’t expose me, that don’t run the risk of making me look silly.  The easiest way to cut down Generosity Day is to ask, “Yeah, but you work at a nonprofit that’s all about accountability.  I don’t get it,” or to be snarky about the soft-headedness of the whole undertaking.

The fact that Generosity Day (and my whole generosity experiment) cut against all of my analytical instincts was and is exactly the point.  It is a personal exploration of letting go in the face of wanting to hang on; of abundance in the face of scarcity; of connection in the face of separation.  Generosity Day doesn’t “make sense” any more than a work of art or a smile or something surprising and delightful make sense.  It’s not designed to withstand analytical rigor or flowcharts.  It can’t – I don’t think – be overplanned or over-designed or over-managed because it belongs to no one, because it is nothing more and nothing less than the expression of an idea whose time has come.  It is permission for people to act in a way they want to act.

With that in mind, what would you like to see happen on Generosity Day 2012?  Comments below are welcome or just email me here.

Better yet, in the spirit of the #Trust30 initiative, what are you ready to commit to for Generosity Day 2012?

A better list

~ Sasha ~ 3 Comments

Lists are great – a systematized, orderly way to keep yourself on task and keep track of tasks.

Except of course that lists are usually an excuse – an excuse to do everything but the real work we have to do.

Some lists, full of seemingly important stuff, actually just say:

  1. Stall
  2. Stall
  3. Procrastinate
  4. Put stuff off
  5. Stall some more
  6. Look busy
  7. Have a meeting that looks busy
  8. Etc.

(By the way, your inbox is just a fancy list.  And don’t get me started on your Facebook / Twitter feed).

So how about this: keep the list, work the list, but act based on the knowledge that you’ll never get to the end of the list.  Knowing that, why not commit, once a day, to add one thing to the list (just one!!) that’s hard or scary, and commit to getting that thing done today.

Hard and scary is, it turns out, a pretty great proxy for “worthwhile.”

One item, once a day, every day, that terrifies you.

The elephant

~ Sasha ~ 1 Comment

Here’s the deal: he’s in the room, so you options are either to talk about him or to pretend he’s not there.

You can put it off, you can discuss other things, you can hide for a while, but he ain’t going anywhere (heck, he doesn’t even fit through the door).

Imagine how you’ll surprise people when you – you who appear to have most to lose if you bring him up; you, whose plan seems to hinge on him not being there at all – call him out, describe just what he looks like, acknowledge that he could scuttle everything.

Better for you to name him and explain why it makes sense to barrel ahead regardless.  It’s when someone else calls him out that you’ll be pushed onto your back foot and risk losing momentum.

The illusion

~ Sasha ~ 6 Comments

Three years since I first started blogging, I’m beginning to get a glimpse of the phantoms that real writers battle:

The illusion that, regardless of what happened yesterday, today you’ll have nothing to say.

The twinge of loss when you write something worth writing.

The pain of putting an idea out into the world.

The fear that something has left you that you can’t get back

It is like giving away anything real and true – love or friendship or money or some other long-treasured thing.  Our mind tricks us into feeling that these things we give away are ours, that they are finite, that the safest thing to do is to cling to them fiercely.

Over and over we practice creating and letting go.  We practice being open.  We dare to strive to be our best selves, reaching so far that we are exposed and vulnerable.  And yes, sometimes we fail. Our leap comes up short.  We crash into the chasm and end up sore, bruised and limping.

But mostly we discover that what we give away is a reflection of the abundance within us, is proof of our grace and all that we have to give.

So we sit back down again, ready to wrestle the illusion of scarcity to the ground, never giving up or giving in.

The ones we’re waiting for

~ Sasha ~ 2 Comments

Yeah, it’s us.

What if you knew that no one else was coming?  What if it’s up to you?  What if all the ideas you’re quietly kicking around are desperately needed by your organization and in the world?

I’ve seen too many amazingly capable people (at all levels – some very senior) spend their energy in side conversations  diagnosing the problem, all the while acting like it is someone else’s job to FIX the problem.

Maybe someone else isn’t coming.

Maybe their train got delayed or they got lost.

Maybe it’s just you.

How would you act now?

Waiting for a white knight who will set the right tone, expect the best, inspire others, make the tough call, lead with clarity of vision AND all the official authority that you might not have (but maybe you do!), that’s still just waiting.  And waiting around or complaining on the sidelines makes you part of the problem.   So does saying that you had a great idea but no one listened.  Having the idea isn’t enough.  You need to persuade people that it’s right.

It’s just us, and time’s a wastin’.

Sarah Kay at TED

~ Sasha ~ 4 Comments

Daniel commented last week:

“Sarah Kay’s TED talk is up and amazingly, even with you setting the bar quite high, she totally shattered it for me.

Post it up for your readers.”

Here it is, and just keep reminding yourself: Sarah’s 22 years old, standing in front of one of the most intimidating crowds on the planet, and although I bet her heart was pounding, I didn’t see her break a sweat.