Social media experts advise everyone, even civilians with no “social profile,” to set up Google Alerts on themselves.  I’ve had ‘em for years.

Yowza, there are a lot of Harnisches in the world.  Some I’ve eliminated with advanced search techniques. Larry Harnisch wrote a book about the Black Dahlia murder and he turns up too often. Had to whack him (-Larry).  Wilhelm Harnisch is in the news a lot, about matters of little interest to me, so I have a “-Wilhelm”. 

The legal name of the Foundation of which I’m president is “The Harnisch Family Foundation,” so I have a ”Harnisch Family” Google Alert.  That’s why I occasionally read the Harnisch Family blog, no relation of which I’m aware.

Today, there’s not only a message from the family, there’s a “guest post” of sorts from another blogger.

I could spend all day, every day, slaving over a hot keyboard, and I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything as…..well,  here.  See for yourself .

Almost makes me want to see what Wilhelm, Larry, Eric, Tom, and the others are up to.

Did you know that when people are in the process of dying, they might stop breathing for several minutes, and then gasp for breath again?

I learned this several years ago from a helpful instruction manual given to us by the caring and sensitive people from the hospice  that provided end-of-life care for someone close to us. Their educational materials were very enlightening to me in helping our loved one make her passage. Believe me, that one tip I just gave you was REALLY IMPORTANT.

Today another loved one is in the care of hospice in another part of the country, and I am grateful for every donor and volunteer who created the organization that is serving us now.

And I support another hospice as well, one that helped educate an entire community about the hospice experience and which has guided several of my dear ones through the end of their lives.

I got the sad news last night of another death, this one of a nonprofit to which I have contributed  and whose work is life-changing and good for the economy.  It was sudden and immediate.  They just couldn’t raise enough money for their exemplary work in these difficult times.

Reminder to self: Contribute to those nonprofits whose existence might not be important to me today, but that I want to be sure are still around if I do need them.  Hospice, for example.  Just a few small and faithful contributions from a large number of people can keep a nonprofit alive .

It’s true: You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.

Real life is where the action is, and you can’t put a price on personal contact. Oh, wait, you can.

At the Personal Democracy Forum 2010 conference in New York City, one woman stood up after the Philanthropy 2.0 breakout session and said, “Well, now I know the truth.” Wanjiru Kamau-Rutenberg  was attending as a Google Fellow, and something she heard gave  overwhelming sense of relief. A great mystery had been solved for her. 

“All this time, people say if you are doing good work and your grant application tells the story that you stand a chance just like everyone else,” she said. “Now I have finally heard someone say it – you have a better chance of getting a grant if you have a relationship with the grantmaker.” Yes, it’s true. Grantmakers are human beings, and they will naturally hear a proposal differently if it comes from someone who has already earned their trust in an ongoing relationship.

When people are new donors, they are sometimes hurt or disillusioned when someone from a nonprofit says they want to “get to know you better” and it turns out they only want to know how to get bigger donations. Well, that’s their job.  Get to know prospective donor-partners.  Find out what’s important to that potential donor and present opportunities to them that would have the most appeal from their point of view.

Donor cultivation is like seed cultivation. There’s a growing cycle. You can’t rush the stages of development. You have to wait for the right season to harvest. And there’s no substitute for the investment of time and a personal, hands-on approach. 

So Wanjiru now knows that no matter how high-quality one’s online efforts may be,  there’s no substitute for a personal, real-life connection. 

I could say I “knew” a lot of people at the PdF conference. But most of them are are mostly familiar to me as icons on Twitter. These relationships largely exist online. Something changes when I get to shake hands with these people in real life. There’s bonding, cementing, solidifying. I hugged a few people and I felt a true exchange of energy. That brief physical connection will provide some kind of fuel for our online relationship in the months to come.

It was a big week for real life. Last weekend a college graduation brought most of my closest kin together to celebrate.  We don’t all get together very often.  It’s so precious when we are in the same room at the same time – even moreso when it’s not for a funeral.

Before I went on sabbatical, most of my daily interactions took place online or on the phone. Now, I’ve upped the face time I spend with people I like, and I want to do more of that. The only way that will happen is if I plan for it, and the only way I can plan for it is to put it in my Outlook calendar.  There’s something amusing about that, isn’t there?  That I can’t have real life experiences without planning them electronically? 

The sabbatical itself required months of advance planning.  If I really intend to do something, I can’t just say “one of these days” or “someday.” I have to commit.

The philosopher Stephen Gaskin says “You can always tell what somebody really wants to do, because that’s what they’re doing.” 

What I really want to do right now is go hug my husband.  You can tell, because….

I’m at a conference of coaches , and I live-tweeted the first little bit  of it.  Then it felt like work and I went back to sabbatical mode where I do what seems wisest in the moment regardless of what I was doing in the previous moment.

It’s an interesting exercise because everywhere I turn I’m meeting Harnisch Foundation grantees or people who are doing great pro bono work, or coaching-related research.

(We interrupt for an announcement.  This mentally-demanding conference is taking place in altitude and a different time zone. My brain is not functioning at normal capacity.)

I want to name all these people, but I will surely forget a few, and they might think I don’t love them as much as the other grantees.  I wish they would post in the comment section and tell about their foundation-related work.  (Just say what you would have imagined me writing about you and what you’re doing if I were at sea level.)

Thanks for all you’re doing to help professionalize the field of coaching worldwide, to take the coaching model of conversation, and indeed, the coaching model of being, out into the wider world.  There are some world-class coaches here, and there are some people doing world-class work.

I feared a dreaded Kumbaya moment at the opening ceremony, but I think we escaped relatively unscathed if not unhugged. I’m uncomfortable anywhere “woo hoo” is spoken fluently.

Why am I here? I keep asking myself, and the answers are all around me.  Perhaps the most obvious is that it’s an opportunity to have the very rare in-person session with my own longtime coach, Renee Freedman.  We work weekly by phone or by Skype, and in all the years we’ve been coaching together, we probably have done a dozen sessions in person.

So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice. 

More tomorrow.

Lila's Ever-Blooming Gift

Day 128

One reason I am a Thrillionaire  and I enjoy helping others discover their passion for giving is that  I’m so grateful for the philanthropy of others.

 All donors have personal reasons for making their contributions. Not everyone wants to give to animal causes, not everyone wants to give to religious institutions, not everyone gives for the sake of beauty in the world.  Thank goodness, there are donors for nearly every cause under the sun (and beyond it ).

Lila Acheson Wallace  earned her fortune via the Reader’s Digest ,  and she was one of the most generous benefactors of New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art .  Visitors are always treated to a spectacular floral display when they enter. Four huge niches contain arrangements so large that they must surely be fake.  But they’re not.  Lila dedicated a portion of her gift to make sure that those niches were filled with artful fresh floral displays.

Love the Park? Help Pay For It.

  If you have a chance to stroll in Central Park you can thank the private donors who make the Central Park Conservancy possible, because they make the beautiful park possible.  I walked a few miles with one of the development officers recently, and she asked me who else I knew who ought to become more familiar with the Conservancy.

Restored Iron Bridge

Several moments of contemplation ensued as I tried to imagine the perfect people to involve more deeply in the work of the Central Park Conservancy.

I didn’t say this, but this is what I was thinking:  EVERYONE.  Everyone needs to become more familiar with the Conservancy.  If you love the idea of a clean, green, safe, educational, fun, open, free expanse of public parkland in the middle of a huge metropolis, you could send a contribution to the Conservancy.  Any amount would help pay for a plant, a gallon of gas, the restoration of the bridge  you see in the photo above.

When it comes to great institutions that welcome everyone to share their public treasure, I love to give.  I don’t give large sums, but I give a little to a lot of museums, parks, and arts organizations in a number of cities even if I never personally get to visit those places. Why? I want these cultural icons to continue to exist and I know how easy it is for a nonprofit to close its doors.  Just like some great businesses, great brands and great names disappear without a trace, so can our beloved institutions.

At “work,” I’m a professional philanthropist.  If I can’t enjoy a musuem or a stroll in the park without thinking about the philanthropists who created them and who sustain them today, am I still in “work mode”?  Or is it part of the way I express gratitude, to acknowledge the source?  I know what the park looked like before the Conservancy was created in 1980, so every step I take there today inspires me to credit the volunteers, visionaries and deep pockets. I might have entered the Museum to see the American Woman exhibit, but I stopped to smell Lila’s flowers. They’re a work of art too, as floral arrangement and as philanthropic gift.

During this sabbatical year I’m trying to discover what is “me” and what is “work.”  I think my awareness of the source of what blesses and benefits me is part of who I am.  I think I will always be involved in giving and appreciating others who give, whether or not I do it as the working  president of a charitable foundation. 

This is who I am, not what I do.

This is/isn’t working.  I am/am not working.  Even though I gave myself six months notice before beginning the sabbatical, I had a number of commitments and pre-paid activities that I thought I could enjoy without working.

I have broken every streak of behaviors/habits/rituals that I began at the first of the year. Some I’ve resumed, some I haven’t.  People say often, “I thought you were supposed to be on sabbatical,” as if what I’m doing looks like I’m working.

Take the Naturally 7   concert in Freeport   on May 1. 

It was a major philanthropic investment for the Harnisch Foundation. It’s been in the works for over a year. I didn’t think there’d be much actual work required on my part during the sabbatical, but I certainly planned to show up for the concert and the master class for students taught by the group on the next day.

 Members of the Grand Bahama Performing Arts Society know that I was hands-on in shepherding that investment, and I made sure that the philanthropic purposes of the grant were fulfilled. It was work, but it wasn’t work to the degree that I would ordinarily throw myself into a project like that.

That was non-work work.

And even though I will admit that it’s work,  it was so much fun!  I had the thrill of seeing them live when Naturally 7 performed at TED. I expected to enjoy their music. What surprised me was the experience of being transported and entranced for nearly an hour at a stretch by the power of a performance.

In this life of multitasking and speedsurfing with the remote, I’m out of the habit of sitting in an auditorium experiencing a concert.  I used to go to lots of live performances in decades past.  Heck, my first husband was a professional musician and listening to live music was just another day at the office for both of us.  It wasn’t unusual to see five or more live performances a week – sometimes five or more major freaking headliners.

But that was another life. In this one, I found myself in the unusual position of being mesmerized for long stretches of time, as Naturally 7 ensnared me in a theatrical spell.  OK, I noticed when the music and the message underscored some of the reasons we brought  Naturally 7  to Grand Bahama, mentally checking off little boxes on the grant report.  But largely my consciousness simply floated off on a cloud of sound.

I now add ”distracting entertainment” to the list of things I’m doing for myself this year.  I have allowed myself to get so busy that it’s been a long time since I made it a point to go to a concert or play and be entertained in a way that takes me out of my head and resonates in my heart. 

It’s indescribably enjoyable to lose one’s self in a virtuoso performance. Ooooh, I have a long list of memorable ones.  (Please feel free to share a time that being in the audience was a transporting experience for you. I’m curious about the range of favorites among those of you who are in this little community of readers.)

Today I learned that my investment in someone paid off.

Four years ago, I heard about a situation, did my due diligence, and decided to take a chance.  It required more hands-on involvement than I had expected, and some complications arose along the way.  But I was never sorry I greenlighted the investment.

Whatever I might have expected as a hoped-for outcome, the actual result far exceeds my most optimistic projection.  I received a heartfelt letter of thanks, filled with reasons I’m rejoicing in what Paul Harvey  used to describe as  “The rest of the story.” 

I love a happy ending, especially when I get to feel like the Fairy Godmother.

This evening I had the privilege of being in a very small audience as pioneering feminist artist Judy Chicago  told the story of her most famous work, The Dinner Party .

She spoke at a private event, and her presentation won’t show up on YouTube.  That’s an absence. Absence was one of the major themes of her presentation.  Because women were absent from so much recorded history, Judy Chicago created The Dinner Party to give them a place at the table.

And women are still largely absent from the collections of the great museums of the world.  In her speech, Chicago challenged women of means and power to use their means and power to change institutions. That’s what Elizabeth Sackler did by funding the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art at the Brooklyn Museum.  That is where you can see The Dinner Party  now in the permanent collection.

“We don’t notice absence until presence intrudes,” says Chicago.

Although I always noticed the absence of women artists in museums, and the absence of women in positions of power and leadership, and so on, I found that statement provocative.

What’s missing that shouldn’t be? What is absent that I’m failing to notice? What should I be seeing that I’m not?

I’m overdue on my promise to give you a link to what its editor is calling “A Collaborative Sketch.”  It looks like a book to me, but I’ll admit it definitely looks like a sketchbook!

Jean Russell  conceived, curated, corralled, and culled the offerings of over five dozen contributors. Each was asked to write about a single topic relating to the concept of “Thrivability .” 

I am one of the writers.  My topic is “Contribute to the Commons.”

Here’s the link to the publication . 

Some have suggested reading this publication at the rate of one page per day, spending time meditating on the concept and the content on a daily basis.  If you choose to do that, it will be many weeks before you read my contribution.

I’m inspired by this gorgeous little miracle, cheered by the fact that 64 authors produced the content in less than 90 days, each contributor offering the writing as a gift to the project. 

The whole enterprise was envisioned by a networking expert who knew her community well enough to imagine the best that could happen.

And that’s what happened. 

What would I dare to create in 90 days?

I’ve mentioned that I have several people in my circle using the Caring Bridge.

One of them just told us: it’s time for the transition to hospice care.

The news is sad because everyone wanted, hoped for, more time.

But the news is happy because the family and the extended circle of love enjoyed years together after the initial diagnosis. 

It’s odd to be hearing this news the day after I wrote about a cancer research fundraising event. (Yesterday I shared my tribute to Susan Simons – she was awarded the Spirit of Nashville Award at the T.J. Martell Foundation Honors Gala earlier this week.  Susan has been a tireless supporter of cancer research, cutting edge treatment, and appropriate end-of-life care.)

It’s a few months shy of three years since my Caring Bridge friend’s diagnosis, but these have been bonus years, featuring some really good days, some of the best days of their lives. A miraculous run, really, considering the early prognosis was for a few months at best.

(Heavy sigh)

These milestones remind me to ask myself, “Is this what I would be doing if I knew my time was short?”

Today my answer is, “Yes.”