A Tibetan-Inspired Approach to Motivation
© Jeff Salz, PhD
wayofadventure.com

Why is burn out such a big problem in the corporate world? Why, for many of us, do our periods of productivity seem to come in fits and starts? How do we, as professionals, develop 'a longevity of effectiveness'? How do we build a lasting personal 'creative stamina'?

As a speaker on the subject of adventure it has come to my attention that most motivational presentations are not so much 'food for thought' but 'fast food', attractively packaged and initially tasty but leaving us just as hungry an hour later.

Until today, most motivational theory has been focused upon shaping behavior for desired results: carrot and the stick, punishment and reward. As an anthropologist, it is my business to discover the underlying belief systems that identify culture. Once identified, beliefs can be changed. Only when beliefs change do behaviors change.

Corporations in the '90s have discovered that the stick doesn't work. Fear based behavior is always reactive (vs pro-active). It violates the basic need of the human being for expansive, inventive, affirmative endeavors. The carrot is positive reinforcement, short-term gratification. But humans do not live long on a diet of carrots alone. Like fast food, it leaves us hungry almost immediately. And empty.

There is another way - for individuals and corporations. For me, it took a trip around the planet and to the top of world to discover it.

It was an anthropology research project...of sorts.

I was riding the range, Tibetan style, disguised as a Tibetan nomad.Ê I was full of hope. I desperately hoped to be able to discover the core of Tibetan culture. I longed to find the key to the Tibetan character, these wild horsemen dressed in skins and swords, hair tied in top notches and fastened with bone and bright red yarn. They loved to ride their ponies at break neck speed through the Chinese settlements, hooting and hollering. Sooty and weather-beaten, smelling of yak sweat and smoke, they would dance their slow undulating shuffle through the long, windswept Tibetan night. They never stopped, throwing back toast after endless toast of their powerful homebrew, laughing until morning came. Among the most impoverished and politically oppressed people on the planet, they remained free, expansive, compassionate, despite their suffering. My hope was to live intimately enough among these people so that, along with the yak sweat and soot, some of their wisdom might rub off on me.

But I was afraid, too. Afraid that I might fail - afraid of being captured by the Chinese police, for I was traveling out of bounds, without a permit in a politically sensitive area of Eastern Tibet. I was a hunted man in the Himalayas. Ever since I had crossed paths with a Chinese soldier in a small village, they had trailed me. My fear hounded me. Each morning I saddled up and rode up and over the snowy passes where the military jeeps could not follow my horse tracks. Moving furtively between nomad settlements and yak herder's tents, I was desperately afraid that I might be arrested before I completed a mission that had already taken me half way around the world.

Weeks passed and I visited dozens of nomad families in their black wool tents strung from poles upon the bleak hillside. We drank tea with rancid yak butter, gnawed yak jerky and hard bread called "momo". We talked of horses, the weather and politics. But mostly we laughed. Tibetans love to laugh. However, when I asked questions about Tibetan culture, the meaning of their lives, what they believed in, the answer was always the same. I was told to visit a certain gompa, or monastery, in the region, high on a mountaintop and full of actively practicing monks. "Go to Chon Di Gompa," they said. "Go to Chon Di Gompa".

There are only a few times in our lives when our personal experiences rival the magical reality of Hollywood. My first experience of Chon Di Gompa was one of those moments. As my horses and I crested the pass in a snowstorm, the clouds began to lift. Before us, captured in a beam of sun that illumed its flags and parapets, stood Chon Di monastery, shining like the ancient walled city it was. I rode my ponies across the threshold, through the gate and into the courtyard. A swarm of red-robed practitioners lifted me from my horse and carried me into the chanting hall to view the enormous golden Buddha. They excitedly fingered my clothing, camera and books. I was, they said, the first outsider ever to make it this far.

Days passed as I joined their daily round. More tea with rancid yak butter. More jerky and 'momos'. More laughter. Mostly I sat with them in the cold, cavernous chanting hall while their voices rose and swayed in unison, praying for the enlightenment of all sentient beings. I spent evenings reading my English version of their Tibetan texts and I came upon a phrase often repeated. "Go beyond hope and fear". In the presence of the monks I seemed to experience an exquisite playfulness and peace. I marveled at their equanimity. I wondered if these words could be its source. What was that place between hope and fear?

The Tibetans call it "lung da", the wind horse. The energy of life embodied in a free spirited horse or the wild rush of the wind. It is the power of a raging torrent or a flower pushing upward through the snow of its own accord to open in the sun. It is the raw energy that courses within us and manifests in a dance, a love song, a brilliant idea or a sudden peal of laughter.

Riding the lung da, going beyond hope and fear is a non-motivational model for success. Hope is the carrot. Desire, hungering after illusive promises is motivating. Perpetual dissatisfaction creates constant motion and leads us, inevitably, to disappointment. Fear is the stick. We are motivated. Fight or flight. We may, however, grow defensive, build emotional and intellectual walls, losing spontaneity and authenticity.

Sogyal Rimpoche, a Tibetan lama living in the West, teaches "...both hope and fear are enemies of your peace of mind; hopes deceive you and leave you empty and fears paralyze you in the narrow cell of your false identity." When we divorce ourselves from hope and fear we are left with what he calls, "a sense of inner expansiveness, a direct knowledge of the 'egoless-ness' of all things, and that vivid and generous humor that is the hallmark of freedom."

Understanding the lung da principle is vital for maintaining a healthy professional life. Burnout occurs because our agendas are full but we are running on empty. The need for constant accomplishment fires us up ... and then leave us flat. It is the junky's theory of motivation, initially energizing and ultimately self-defeating. Corporate cultures are learning to "just say no" to long-term losses for short-term gain.

Culture of a corporation may be defined as the complex, interrelated whole of standardized, institutionalized, habitual behavior that characterizes what is unique to an organization. Like the larger human culture of which it is a subset, it is a network of learned behaviors, not mandated by genetics. Like human culture, if unquestioned it can become a prison. If recognized as dynamic and changeable...a corporate culture can become a heroic vision of our potential greatness, a source of inspiration for meaning for its members and a vision for appropriate growth.

James O'Toole, author of Vanguard Management, tells us that a principle reason for failure in attempts at corporate change is that "they deal only with superficial levels of culture... like the company logo or management style." Successful change takes root in organizations when we address the deeper level, that of basic assumptions.

The positive theory of non-motivation is to ride the wind horse in the direction it is going. We harness the power of our desire to enjoy life for what it is. Riding the wind horse is non-motivational only in an extrinsic sense. In an era where employers cannot promise routine promotion or pay hikes, motivation must be intrinsic. The reward from a greater investment in the task at hand comes from the enormous boost in self-esteem that comes from the successful completion of that very task. Caring and responsiveness are their own rewards. Everyone, from the boardroom table to the show room floor reaps the benefits.

According to Bill O'Brien, CEO of Hanover Insurance, "The ferment in management will continue until we build organizations that are more consistent with man's higher aspirations beyond food, shelter and belonging." These organizations are being built now. Quality circles, team-building efforts, profit sharing and efforts to re-design organizational mission statements, as a team-effort, are all succeeding. According to business gurus Stanger and Simon's, recent survey, "in a majority of organizations showing profitability, employees spoke of 'experiencing satisfaction on the job as its own reward'...'enjoying the job for the job's sake' and described themselves as individuals who felt 'engaged and actively involved in a creative process'."

You can almost hear the paradigms shifting as East meets West. The topography of the world of work is newly defined as we rediscover the simple and profound joy of a job well done. As Theodore Rozak has written, "We lose ourselves in our love of the task before us and, in that moment, we learn an identity that lives both within and beyond us."

To finish the story - back at Chon Di Gompa - I realized that I had found what I had come for. I had stopped worrying about being apprehended by the authorities. A week passed in a wink of an eye as I sat with the red-robed monks in daily meditation. It seemed like I had discovered a doorway to the inner workings of Tibetan equanimity. Suddenly the doors to the monastery burst open. There was a flurry of green uniforms as machine-gun-toting Chinese police surrounded me. My journey to 'remotest' Tibet was over.

The sun was shining as I led my horses down the mountainside accompanied by my official escort. A flock of birds wheeled overhead. A stand of young trees swayed in the breeze. I burst into song. The green-uniformed police looked surprised, then broke into smiles. They joined me. Why not? It was a beautiful day. There would be questions. There would be answers. I would find my way to the next adventure.

Beyond hope. Beyond fear.