Launching of the James Caird |
I'll admit that up until recently embracing this axiom was difficult. Then I recently read an excellent book by Claude Bristol entitled The Magic of Believing. It helped me recall several episodes during my life where I held an intention to be, do, have, or accomplish something without being attached to any particular way it manifested.
I know this seems counter-intuitive. We're often VERY attached to goals and the methods we employ to achieve them. Especially in fundraising. It's not a bad thing. Processes are useful. Metrics are helpful. Progress is good. And yet, I am acutely aware that we are very often surprised by the circumstances that lead us toward meeting our goals.
An example may be helpful here. When at Princeton, each year the team I led would put forth a forecast of the amount of money the University would receive from various sources that our team was responsible. From that forecast, each individual would develop a plan with objectives, goals, strategies, and metrics that were within his/her zones of control and influence. And, here's the kicker: there's a zone beyond our control and influence where "we don't know what we don't know." It is often from there that the most surprising results emerge.
Thankfully, we met or exceeded our forecast each year--frequently with delightful surprises that were unplanned. This achievement was accomplished in no small part because we believed we could do it, and we were not too attached to exactly how it would happen.
I'll share another example from my personal life. In the 1990's I read the story of Ernest Shackleton sailing a small open boat 800 miles with five companions for 16 days across the treacherous South Atlantic to reach civilization to save his men. That voyage (along with the subsequent traverse of South Georgia Island) is among the most memorable tales of belief and perseverance in the face of extraordinary difficulty from the early 20th century. It inspired in me the burning desire to own and operate a small open rowing/sailing craft (and learn to sail along the way).
That desire became planted in my subconscious during a time when I lived by the northern New Jersey shoreline. I subsequently moved to Wyoming, and then California. While the access to the sea was limited during the ten year period out west, the desire to row and sail a small open craft never ceased. Ten years after learning about the voyage of the James Caird, I was back on the east coast living near the Long Island Sound, a body of water well suited to a small open rowing/sailing craft. Within a year of my return to the east coast, I came into possession of the boat I had envisioned more than ten years earlier--a used, hand-crafted beauty.
I share this personal story to illustrate that the truth of Napolean Hill's axiom is not bounded by time or any particular circumstance. In the fundraising profession, we're fond of creating ambitious campaigns with timelines, donor pyramids, and lots of anxiety over results. By all means, establish plans, goals, and timelines. Then I encourage you to let go and allow yourself to be pleasantly (dare I say, delightfully) surprised.