Sometimes it’s the administration who’s the “us” and the faculty who’s the “them”.

And then, sometimes, it’s the administration and the faculty who are the “us” and the students who are the “them”.

Parents, it seems, are always “them”.

HR is “us” when there are a flood of  job applicants clamoring to get interviews, and HR is “them” when we can’t get in the door.

Patients in the ER are “them” when doctors and nurses feel overworked and concerned about narcotics-shopping.

Yet these same medical professionals become “them” when patients wait for hours to be seen.

Us.

Them.

For.

Against.

Win.

Lose.

Perhaps this “us vs. them” setup is a reflection of the basic human need for belongingness. For tribe. For clan.

For knowing where we stand in relation to others.

Who’s a friend? Who’s an enemy?

But what if that didn’t matter? What if you simply knew where you stood all the time?

What if you took a deep breath and tried on the radical idea that there was no “them” – there was only “us”?

Could you stand tall every minute of every day as a part of “us”?

What if, rather than deciding that the 911 caller was one of “them” – those corrupt and sneaky people who only want free transportation to the hospital – and let the phone ring 15 times or go to voice mail, the dispatcher answered on the first ring and was as helpful as possible for as long as she was needed?

What if rather than bristling at questions, the teacher saw the parent as an ally in the educational journey of a child?

What if rather than failure, we saw humanity in the eyes of the struggling?

What if in politics we could refrain from categorizing and limiting into rigid definitions of “us” and “them”? Might we actually get things accomplished for the common good?

[Be still my beating heart.]

Maslow suggested the highest expression of human full potential is a state he called “self-actualization”, or “the need to be good, to be fully alive and to find meaning in life.”

And you don’t get there by hating and dividing, darlings.

You get there by seeing the “us” in everyone. 

I have observed something in the last few years – have you seen it? People are clamoring to unite around something. You saw it with the Boston bombings as people lined the streets applauding the first responders. You saw it recently in Cincinnati when crowds spontaneously gathered to welcome three kidnapped women home. You see it in baseball stadiums as we stand in the third inning to honor our men and women in uniform.

We see it whenever people rush to help, rather than rush away.

That’s honoring the “us” in everyday life.

That’s a movement toward good.

And that’s what increasing numbers of people aim to do each and every day – they choose to see the “us” reflected in everyone they encounter.

Which changes the world.

In case you’re wondering, there’s plenty room for you in this movement, too.

All you have to do is join “us”.

I’ve been writing every Sunday since, oh, the dawn of time (Internet time, at least) and some of those Sundays have also been Mother’s Day.

Last year, I wrote my own version of Lean In, I guess, with What Working Moms Really Want.  I just re-read this one and I really like it. Perhaps that’s a funny thing to say, but I don’t often go back and read things I’ve written.

With me and writing it’s totally catch and release.

In 2011, I imagined what an Empty Nest Mother’s Day would be like. I’m getting closer and closer to that reality today, and while I caught this one, it’s harder and harder to release with each passing day.

I asked Who’s A Mom? in 2010, which I consider my love letter to everyone – both men and women – who reach out and help children.

“With every kindness to a child, you create a better world,” I said then, and I mean it still.

Then in 2009, I repeated a column from 2007 simply called “Mother’s Day”, where I suggested we celebrate every holiday every single day.

Somehow that brilliant idea didn’t really catch fire.

In the sandwich year there, 2008, I wrote about busyness (it must have been in context of my own situation) with Repeal HAFTA.

And in May, 2006, I was a few months away from starting to blog so the words were still in my head and heart, unreleased.

What a journey. What an experience. What richness.

And right now I’m talking about my 20+ years of mothering two wonderful people who inspire me every day to step up, be present and be fully myself.

Because when I am able to do that, they are able to do so, too. It’s a love circle, baby.

And, believe me, I get so much more than I give.

Oh, people, I am truly blessed. May you find blessings, too – full with love and acceptance – in each and every one of your days.

I mentioned this blog post to a friend the other day and thought perhaps you’d like to read it, too. From November, 2010:

The other day I posted on Facebook:

From the comments posted in response, to-do lists seem to be the bane of existence for quite a few of us. Don’t like ‘em, but can’t live this modern life without ‘em.

As I lay me down to sleep, though, I looked back on my troublesome to-do list and realized that of the six items on the list, I had completed three. Fifty percent. How did I feel about that? Was it “good enough”?

Well.

If I were a baseball player and hit the ball as well as I completed my to-do list, I’d be batting .500. I’d be in the Hall of Fame. With my own display case. Because even the all-time best hitters never crack .400.

Ty Cobb .366

Babe Ruth .342

Lou Gehrig .340

Albert Pujols .334

Stan “The Man” Musial .331

And, drum roll please, Michele Woodward – .500.

Not too shabby.

To tell the truth, I could even pump up my average a little bit. Because after I created my to-do list, I asked the four questions that have become my to-do list mantra:

• Does this task have to be done at all?
• Do I have to do it now?
• What’s the impact if I do this later?
• Am I really the best person to do this task?

By asking myself these questions, I immediately eliminated one item (didn’t really need to be done) and asked my so-much-taller-than-me 17 year old son to do one thing (replace the porch light bulbs – after assuring him it would certainly count as community service on his college application).

The stuff I didn’t get done? I’ll do it today. Because today is such a better time to get it done (see Questions Two and Three).

The challenge for some of us is that last question – Am I really the best person to do this task? I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel a little queasy answering “nope”. We’ve all got our pride, right? And although we discussed the importance of showing vulnerability last week, discussing vulnerability doesn’t magically make doing it all that easy.  However, when you look at your values – what’s really important to you – then sometimes asking someone else to take on a task becomes less of a big deal.

For instance, I have a real value around helping my kids become independent adults. Adults need to know how to change light bulbs, don’t they? Therefore, tasking my son with this to-do is really teaching him an important life skill! [Which I will remind him. Repeatedly.]

At work, too, when the issues are larger than light bulbs, these questions come into play.  Are you a true mentor? Then let the kid have a shot. Are you a real leader? Then you better share the load. Are you a top producer? Then quadruple your production by adding more hands to the job.

And if you are one of Those People who look at fifty percent completion as fifty percent failure, then let me remind you of this:

For every three times he was at bat, Babe Ruth got out twice. And under his picture in the Hall of Fame is the caption: Sultan of Swat.

So relax with your to-do list. Remember to ask yourself those four questions. Then, step inside the batter’s box, take a few swings to limber up, and keep your eye on the ball all the way to the plate. Trust me, you will swing and miss. There will be a foul tip or two. But, from time to time, you’ll connect and hit it out of the park.

Bang – you’re in The To-Do List Hall of Fame, baby.

I bought a book the other day. Didn’t even leave my home – just pulled up a website, clicked one button and – whoosh! – the book was on my iPad. And on my iPhone. And on my Kindle. And on my desktop computer.

Thanks to the miracle of modern technology, I can read that book any time, any where, on any device.

And in that fell swoop, I got exactly what I wanted and single-handedly killed a fair number of  jobs around the world.

See, if I had driven to the bookstore to buy the hard copy of the book, it would have taken:

• the store clerk who helped me find the book
• the cashier who rang up my book
• the store manager who supervises those staff people
• the cleaning crew who maintains the space
• the landlord
• the corporate people who decide which books to carry
• the gas station attendant who sells me the gas it takes to drive to the store

It would have also taken:

• the farmer that planted the trees
• his farm worker
• the lumbermen who harvest the trees
• the driver who hauls the trees to the pulper
• the pulper
• the driver who drives the pulp to the paper mill
• the guy at the paper plant
• the binder
• the driver who picks up the finished book
• the warehouseman who stores and ships the book
• the FedEx woman who delivers the book
• the guy who puts the gas in her truck
• the mechanic who maintains her truck

None of those people had a hand in my recent transaction. Multiply that by millions of e-books sold each year, and it’s no wonder that a lot of working people are suffering.

All because I chose the most efficient way to read what the writer wrote.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the feel of a bound book in my hands. I love turning pages. I also like people to have jobs. But, boy, do I love being able to buy an obscure, out-of-the-mainstream book with the click of a button.

And it’s this simple effect, amplified across a number of industries, that has changed the face of employment around the world.

We no longer need warehouses to store items that can be bought virtually. Bang – those jobs vanish.

We no longer need postal workers to deliver your movie in a red and white envelope, because you’re streaming at your convenience. Jobs gone.

No more factories churning out CDs in their infernal, unopenable, shrink-wrapped jewel box cases, because you listen to music on your phone, or via your computer speakers. Poof, buh-bye assembly line workers.

My friends, we are living through remarkable change. And we can lament and despair – gnash our teeth at the loss of the old ways – or we can hike up our britches and figure a way to get on board with the new. Just the way our great-grandparents did when running water came to their town. The way our grandparents did when every house was electrified. The way our parents did when air travel became commonplace.

Now is the time. If you are in an industry under threat from the new way of doing business, it may be time to reinvent – toward the efficiency and immediacy of the new economy. A great tool is the new book Reinventing You (Harvard Business Review Press) by my friend Dorie Clark. I interviewed her last week on the WiseWork radio show. It’s worth a listen.

It’s critical that you find the way – your way and maybe even a way for others – to thrive in a world where efficiency means that more gets done with less.

The world is wide open to you in a way it’s never been before, with so much possibility at your fingertips.

Now is the best possible time to reinvent.

There have been tough weeks in the past. And it’s likely that there will be tough weeks in the future. But, boy, this week?

This was one tough week.

Boston.

West, Texas.

Capitol Hill.

China.

It’s been overwhelming. And, you know what? I’m not going to try to make you feel better by writing a bunch of “look on the bright side” platitudes.

Nope.

Instead, I’m going to say: “It really was a tough week – one of the toughest. Why not treat yourself as you would treat anyone you love who’s had a tough week?”

Oh, you might want to close your eyes, stick your fingers in your ears, say “Naa, naa, naa, I can’t hear you” and pretend it didn’t happen (I’ve tried it, trust me).

But you can’t change reality. And neither can I.

All we can do is acknowledge the shock, pain, and loss, and be good to ourselves.

For me, that looks like time with family, time in the garden, time alone with a book. Getting back to my center.

Because I know that restorative energy and peace come when you’re at center.

And, of course, let’s be kind to others, because you’re not alone in this bad week. Not at all. In fact, we’re all in this together.

Together, standing at the side of the road clapping  and cheering for those who would run toward rather than run away.

[OK, maybe that's inspiration. Can't help myself, I guess.]

May peace find you – find us all – in ways both large and small.