In 2013, a 52-year-old man named David saw his life fall apart. His marriage of 27 years was over, his kids were emerging into adulthood, he lived in an apartment instead of the family home, and most of his friends drifted away. In reflecting on the time, David said that it was as if he were in a state of permanent drunkenness, with emotions running high and playlists filled with heartbreak songs from Sinéad O'Connor and Snow Patrol. It was one of the lowest points of his life, and it would also become one of the most important.
David’s time of suffering that followed his divorce permanently changed the course of his life. You see, the David that we are talking about here is the best-selling author and New York Times columnist David Brooks. He spent much of the first 52 years of his life focused on building his career, and in doing so he achieved a level of success that brought his views to nearly every major newspaper and television station in America. Following each major achievement, Brooks would immediately focus on the next—a new book, column, speech, award, or the like.
Brooks will be the first to tell you that his endless ambition and unrelenting focus turned him into an aloof workaholic who was mostly unavailable for the people he loved the most. And this is why he landed where he did when everything fell apart in 2013.
So, what happened from there?
Brooks spent the next five years years thinking, reading, and writing about how to give your life meaning after worldly success fails to fulfill. It’s a body of work that is best represented by his book The Second Mountain. The book's big idea is that most people spend the first part of their lives trying to build their career, wealth, and accolades. It’s a self-focused journey to climb what he calls the first mountain.
But, as generations of human experience continue to show, life will bring tragedy to each of us someday. We might lose someone we love the most, a layoff may come our way, a devastating health diagnosis, or any number of other tragic events. Brooks argues that when we stand in the wake of life’s hardest moments, we actually face our greatest opportunity. That’s because these tragedies thrust us from the first mountain into a valley of despair, and once we are there, we have a choice: Do we try to serve our ego and climb the first mountain again, or do we shift our gaze to the second?
The second mountain represents a journey focused on others, not the self—a journey committed to service, not material wealth. Brooks makes a compelling case that the first mountain will likely only bring fleeting happiness, while the second will offer lasting fulfillment. I really do recommend the book, especially in times like these. But as I read it, there was one big question that I just couldn't shake.
Do organizations have a second mountain?
That is, what happens to an organization when it hits the hardest times? Are they also thrust into a valley of suffering that provides the perspective they need to see a second mountain of long-term fulfillment through service? It’s an interesting question, and I can’t claim to fully know the answer. I’d like to say that the most devastating economic events in history gave organizations a new commitment to serving their people, shareholders, and the communities in which they operate. So, maybe the Great Depression prompted many organizations to transition from the extractionist practices of the Gilded Age to the more service-minded and patriotic approach to business that we saw up until the 1970s, but I’m not sure.
I do know that when DTE Energy’s financial strategy went up in flames in 2008, the company transformed itself to become one the largest drivers of economic development in Michigan, which culminated with them redefining their mission to be a “force for growth and prosperity in the communities where we live and serve.” That sounds a lot like a second mountain, and it makes me wonder if some organizations today are missing an important opportunity.
Over the course of the last year, most leaders and people in large organizations have been working long days and late nights. The initial focus in the wake of the pandemic was to stop the bleeding and continue operations. From there we transitioned to a place of relative stability, with remote work at scale for many industries and pretty good economic performance overall. Now, as we see light at the end of the tunnel, many leaders are spending their time defining and shaping the HR policies, technology, and collaboration models that will become the future of work.
This work is all necessary, but it might come with a risk. What if our frenetic pace over the last year didn’t give us the time and space we need to see our second mountain? Before this pandemic, we were already in a place where most organizations couldn’t clearly articulate why they do the work they do and what impact it has on the world. That is, by my now overused metaphor, far too many organizations lost the meaning in the work they do—they let the music die.
But I still believe that every organization has a song to sing, and the best are written in the hard times. We just have to pick up our heads and step towards that second mountain to do it.
To the songs we'll sing,
Matt
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