At VIM Executive Coaching, we have pretty much heard it all, including variations of the “joke” that is the title of this post.
The individual who came to us for a coaching consultation thought he was being clever when he said, “Mindfulness? Me? No, thanks, I’m absent minded enough.” It is often of interest to us how an expression or comment can immediately cause an old memory to bubble to the surface.
The Old Professor
The comment caused us the invocation of an old physics professor who actually came out of retirement to teach physics at the university. Indeed, he taught until his 91st birthday – and kept active in the field for several years after.
He was an expert in forensics and crime scenes, based on his knowledge of physics. He wrote some of the groundbreaking papers on determining (forgive the morbidity) on determining if a person was the victim of suicide (by jumping from a height) or murdered (if pushed). He studied patterns of blood drops at crime scenes. In short, his work helped to see that justice was met – or if people pre-judged to be guilty were exonerated through the doubt the professor’s research was able to create. He was solidly on the side of justice, right and wrong.
Yet, we were amused by his absent-mindedness. We can’t say how many pairs of wire-rimmed glasses he lost; the times his outdated, wide and short ties clashed with his clothes and the classic: showing up to class with one black shoe and one brown shoe.
He was not at all in dementia, nor was he easily confused. His calculations of falling objects or the formulae of Sir Issac Newton and the like were complex enough to convince us to avoid quantum physics as a calling! He was simply absent minded.
Something to Point Out
Yet, despite his frequent goofs, lost objects, strange clothing choices and mismatched shoes, he was always able to laugh at himself.
“Well, it looks as though I goofed again!”
Beyond that, though his eyes were “dimming,” and his motor skills were not as sharp as they once had been, he listened to his students, he respected their questions, and he was never beyond asking, “Am I losing anyone? Do you understand what I am saying? Can I help you overcome your confusion?”
In short, he was a caring man who was always in the moment. He was concerned when a student was failing; he asked why they were confused; he genuinely loved his students and loved teaching. It was the closest any of us would come to talking to someone who had done influential work in a field. He was mindful.
Many of us are absent minded from time to time. Unfortunately, not enough of us are mindful, especially those in executive leadership positions. We know of a young man who just got a hefty ticket for sailing through a stop sign; several people who routinely forget their lunches; and a great many who forget names, directions, places and passwords.
However, it is not the same thing as being unable to be mindful. Our old professor talked to each student almost as if, to his mind, they were a blessing to teach. He responded, not reacted, to questions. In turn, his students “protected him,” laughed with him and talked to him as though they felt the respect.
The man who came to us for the consultation frankly, did not return. He remained relatively unsuccessful though he could have had a stellar career. He never “saw” his subordinates and while they worked for him, they never felt a respect or loyalty to him.