Compassionate Samurai

When you give your word, do you keep it? Everyone who strives to live in integrity would probably answer that with a quick YES!

But hold on there, cowboy.

Do you really, really keep your word? Do you show up on time for work, with your family, and every other time you've got a set time to be somewhere?

Ouch.

And time integrity is just the tip of the iceburg for commitment. When you commit yourself to doing something, do you go all-out at it until it's done? What happens when it gets tedious, frustrating, scary, or inconvenient.

What about in your relationships - and especially your marriage? Obviously faithfulness is the foundation of commitment there. But it's not enough on its own. When you commit yourself to someone, you're also committing yourself to their growth and greatness, to creating a wonderful relationship, to being honest with each other.

A really close look at commitment might feel like a punch in the gut, if you're honest. Like all character traits, it's something that should show up no matter what the circumstance - whether anyone's looking or not.

One way I've determined to keep myself commitments in my business is concerning deadlines. As a writer, deadlines are something that happens every day.

Because my business has expanded beyond what I could personally write, I also now have other writers on my team. This is where a time commitment gets a little hairy. Of course, I expect them to meet deadlines - but sometimes life happens. I generally build a small cushion into the deadline "just in case" something happens. Even with that policy in place, sometimes (VERY rarely), we blow it.

Blowing a deadline feels awful. But more than that, it violates the commitment we make to our clients. It inconveniences them; it makes them wonder whether they'll in fact receive their projects; it's just plain wrong. So, for the rare occasion that I've been late delivering work, I've self-imposed a penalty of 15%.

It hurts. But not as much as being out of integrity!

I might have thought to do this before reading "The Compassionate Samurai" (or attending the seminars), but maybe not.

What's the effect been? I used to be late all the time (with my family and friends, anyway). Now, much more often than not, I'm on time. (Still working on it!) The few times I've missed deadlines (even by a day) with clients, and have discounted my fee, my clients have been very pleased -- and they usually come back with a new project.

But even if it didn't always have a happy ending, learning to be a person who keeps commitments is very important. I always want to be known as a woman who keeps her word.

What are YOUR thoughts?

The quote goes like this: "A man can fail many times but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame someone else."

To be honest, this is a character quality that sounds pretty nicey-nice until you dig a little deeper. After you scratch through the veneer of this quality, the confrontation can get a little ugly, in fact.

Why?

Because at the heart of the matter is this concept:
Everything you have and are, the state of every relationship you've got... is the way it is because you chose it.

It's not a "fault" thing - it's not meant to lay guilt on your heart, either. In fact, it's actually kind of empowering once you think about it.

You see, if you have the power to choose, you are no longer powerless, a victim.

Let's take something simple and common - driving to pick up your kids from an after-school activity. It's all a series of choices.

You could: Try to get "just one more thing" done before you leave. You get into the car and realize you're nearly out of gas, so there goes another several minutes as you gas up. You hit traffic - there's an accident blocking the lane ahead. You're behind some bozo who's paying more attention to his phone conversation than the road. Your palms start sweating. You're late. Your kids will be the last to get picked up. You'll get the evil eye from the adults who have to wait for all the parents, because you've now made them late. Your kids are, once again, getting a message from you about their importance - and it's not the message you wanted to communicate. You're angry... at the other drivers, at the cell phone guy, even at the people who had the accident, and the rescue workers (okay, you're really embarrassed to acknowledge that thought, but it's there). Your pissy mood draws you into being snippy with the kids. By the time you're all home, you've dragged a foul cloud of grumpiness in with you. The rest of the night is filled with snappish remarks as you pick at each other.

OR,

You leave early, knowing that you'll get that "one more thing" done another time. You bring a book with you, so even if you're there early, you're not wasting time. Good thing you left early, because there's an accident ahead. You don't add to a dangerous situation, because you're alert and calm as you drive past the rescue workers. In fact, your compassion for the people involved reminds you to pray for them as you pass by, and to be thankful for the dedication and skill of the paramedics in your community. You arrive (still a little early) in time to be one of the first parents in line. You're grateful for the adults who've dedicated their time to your kids at this activity - and you're glad to demonstrate this by showing up on time for pick-up. Your kids are happy to see you at the front of the pick-up, and your ride home with them is friendly, happy, and peaceful (OK, well, maybe they're fighting about who's looking out of who's window... they are kids, after all! But you're coping with it.) The evening's off to a great start.

In the first ride home, you're "victim" to everything - your own tight schedule, the traffic, the phone bozo, the mean look you swear you got from the adults as you picked your kids up, your kids and their foul mood, and everything else that whole evening. But it all started with a choice.

The good thing about "personal responsibility" is that you realize YOU are the one who creates your own experience. Nobody else is responsible for your mood, your day, or the value you receive (create!) out of all you do. You're an adult, you have the power to determine your own experience of life - unless you forfeit it. And if I do that, I have nobody to blame but myself.