Did you ever notice the menu on this blog (look up) where you can click the categories of  The Catalyst, The Coach, , The Eternal Student, The Maker of Mistakes, The Philanthropist, The Recovering Journalist?  My posts generally get filed under one of these categories.

(We interrupt for a bulletin: Altitude and fatigue have muddled my brain because I am at a coaching conference in Albuquerque.  I had a few minutes and was going to write a post about Brian Johnson , the first “conversation starter.”  So I clicked on the dashboard, and I saw that Google coach and “Life After College ” expert Jenny Blake  linked to my blog.  Well, Jenny is one of my all-time favorite coaching clients.  Coaches don’t reveal a client’s name without permission, but the link in her blog that sends her readers to my blog was about her “amazing coach.”  When I clicked that link and found myself at http://ruthannharnisch.com, I was moved and grateful for the public acknowledgment of our work together. But in my altitudinous fog, I started wandering around my own blog as someone who clicked a link to get there.  I read the copy about myself in The Coach category tab.  Which is how I got to talking with you about the category tabs above, because I was going to paste in The Coach intro now.  See?  This is what altitude does to me. We now return you to our program.)

If you ever clicked on “The Coach” category above, this is what you see:

Wow, is that out of date. I think I wrote it in 2008.  Thanks to Jenny’s blog, I have discovered some work I need and want to do while I am on sabbatical. When my website copy is clean and up to date, I will feel lighter and more in integrity with the story I’m telling online.  The Harnisch Foundation site needs some serious updating, too. The Coaching Commons site update will…oops, maybe I shouldn’t say anything about that.

Anyway, I came to this conference without any expectation or hoped-for outcome. So far I have met some admirable and likeable people, reconnected with some treasured colleagues and dear friends, opened my mind to someone I had previously tuned out, had some big-picture conversations that might change the way I invest philanthropically in the future of coaching.

I’ll write more tomorrow about that. And maybe about Brian, if the fog lifts.

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.

Yes, I know, it’s almost the end of Day 14.  I’m not responding to artificial deadlines this year.

When  TED Community Director Tom Rielly  invited The Harnisch Foundation to be a founding sponsor of the TED Fellows  program, we signed on immediately.  The TED Fellows are some of the most extraordinary people in the world. As a group, they become a palpable force, like a life form.  As individuals, one story is more jaw-dropping than the next, each personality magnetic and memorable.

My longtime personal coach, Renee Freedman , is also a TEDster.  She and I decided to create a pro bono program   to offer TED Fellows ten sessions with a world-class professional coach whose skills match their needs.

One of my sabbatical activities: first responder when a TED Fellow expresses interest in coaching.

I’ve been writing the TED Fellows immediately  when they contact us. I was imposing this pressure on myself, and it didn’t feel in keeping with the spirit of sabbatical.  I want to respect my sabbatical boundaries and eliminate as many work obligations and pressures as possible.  Renee told me she doesn’t promise or intend to respond immediately – her window is 48 hours. “I travel a great deal and I have a very full calendar,” she said.  “I don’t want anyone to expect that I will be able to respond any sooner than 48 hours. If I can, I do, but my promise is 48 hours.”

Further, I was creating a cycle of expectation that could only create disappointment if I don’t respond instantly in the future, or if anyone else connected with SupporTED doesn’t answer within minutes.  Renee’s right: it is not reasonable for a volunteer-run organization to respond immediately to the email of dozens of fellows and coaches around the world.  ”We will get back to people within 48 hours,” she said. “That’s a reasonable expectation which we can meet. ”

Wow!  How freeing!  That was so easy. Set up reasonable response times.  Maybe you, too, push yourself too hard to respond too quickly, setting up unreasonable expectations for future performance.

S0, attention TED Fellows: we strive to respond within 48 hours of your email.  Everybody else: no promises.

I relate – because I am that nerdy kid, except instead of being in sixth grade, I’m in my sixth decade, and last week the nonprofit equivalent of Julia let me know that the thought of hooking up with me was mortifying.

Here’s what happened: The nonprofit we’ll call “Julia”  asked The Harnisch Foundation to support a specific project. We thought they were asking us to the school dance, if you will, and we eagerly gave what was (for us) a pretty big grant. It turns out they really were much more interested in the money than in us.  They didn’t actually want to be seen with us.  They didn’t really want to dance with us. 

The mistake was all mine – I was the Foundation equivalent of the nerdy kid daring to think the popular and prestigious organization would accept our Wal-Mart ring and return our admiration and affection.

They told us in no uncertain terms that they got much better gifts from more prestigious suitors, were perceptibly indignant about our  notions of partnership, and seemed mortified, to use Julia’s word, that we thought we were in their league.

 ”Julia” expressed gratitude for our gift, making clear it was important, but not very important.  My “Loving But Misguided”  hope for partnership brought the classic response to all rejects: “So sorry you’re disappointed.”

This was a  rather humiliating experience, but it could be the most important present I’ll receive this holiday season.  It will remind me of the importance of offering gratitude and true respect to anyone proffering a present, however misguided the gift or the giver.