The delicate balance of mentoring someone is not creating them in your own image, but giving them the opportunity to create themselves.
-- Steven Spielberg
Mentors are often thought of as parents, teachers, and coaches -- elders who convey valuable life lessons and advice that help mold us into "successful individuals" and "productive members of society." We may think of the special relationship between Socrates and Plato (and Plato's with Aristotle), the deep bond between Emerson and Thoreau, Katherine Hepburn's advising of Elizabeth Taylor, Billie Holiday teaching Bessie Smith through her records, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. mentoring and marching with John Lewis, Diego Rivera painting with Frida Kahlo, Danny Kwock and Kelly Slater studying waves together, or even Usher taking Beiber under his wing. But this traditional definition of mentors is in need of update and expansion. Younger generations have increasing levels of dependence and maturity demands -- not to mention access to information -- that are beyond what we experienced at their ages. And the practice of mentoring is evolving along with everything else.
In this column, I've invited two colleagues to help share three personal experiences with what we call silent mentorship: (1) mentoring through nature and nonverbal communication (written by me), (2) how death can be a guide (written by Kevin Weiner, Stanford neuroscientist), and (3) ways people you admire and have never met can teach you a lot (written by Sarah Kornfeld, MYMNTR founder). Together, we show silent mentorship to be just as impactful as spoken mentorship -- and how you can discover a mentor even in the depths of your own memories and imagination.
Mentorship through nature and observation (J.)
We don't typically describe our relationship with nature as a type of mentorship. But, I see my connection to the natural world that way, more than any other allies in my life. Learning, paying attention, and thinking about the animals and wild waterways were more of a guide and inspiration to dream, and move forward toward goals than any one person or advice I received from teachers or family members. I would go so far as to say that most of the people who offered advice during my childhood and adolescence were not particularly helpful and most of the animals were. For example, sea turtles never tried to discourage me from pursuing a degree and career in marine biology, but many people did. It may sound strange, but many times in making big decisions, I'd consider how it may relate to the turtles, the rivers, and the ocean as important factors weighed among others.
Imagine you had a human mentor who never used language. What would that relationship look like? They would probably find ways to show you places, things, movements, or use body language without speaking or writing a word. Animals do that all the time -- without judgment. We are surrounded by their mentorship and are often blind to the messages -- largely because our world is so busy. But, if we just slow down, don't speak, don't tweet, and instead, pay attention and listen to what nature is saying, we might be surprised at the lessons we learn. People often thought I was shy and asked me why. When in actuality, I was just observing quietly, paying attention, and learning from the world around me.
Non-verbal communication can be a powerful tool for a mentor -- not to mention help us learn to read people better beyond what they are saying. It's not my place to prescribe that you put your phone down and head into nature, but you might be surprised at how non-verbal and non-human communication will improve your skills and how you interpret and deliver verbal communication with your fellow human beings.
The waves have been Kelly [Slater]'s teachers. It was a subliminal education, but it led to epiphanies about who he wanted to be.
-- Danny Kwock, former pro surfer who mentored Slater for 15 years
Words not meant to mentor... yet memories of them do (Kevin)
I had the great pleasure of interviewing J. for mymntr.com and one of the things we covered was the fact that we both stuttered. The effects of stuttering had lasting effects for me throughout my teenage years and I hated speaking in public. You can imagine my anxiety and dread as I sat down to write my brother's eulogy when I was 16. By the fourth or fifth draft, I recalled my brother saying: "You can't build a building with crooked lines, Kev." He was a budding architect and I had simply asked why he started over his sketches so many times. Remembering his response revealed my problem: the eulogy was all over the place -- it was crooked. So, the question then became: How do you build a straight eulogy? You need to know what it looks like. Mine looked like laughter. I wanted to make people laugh and celebrate his life rather than cry at his loss. His response, via my memory, became the best writing advice I've ever received. From that moment, I've become a word architect. I build buildings with words whether I'm writing a poem, editing a research paper for a scientific journal or penning an article for the Huffington Post. At thirty-three years old, I've now spent more time without him than with my brother. In that time I like to think that I've built entire cities of words from the foundation of his advice.
We have all lost some pretty incredible and insightful people who were likely to become our mentors. This example of my brother is a reminder that mentorship can come from people who are no longer physically with us, from words or conversations that aren't necessarily meant to mentor. I like to imagine that our hippocampi -- little structures in our brains that resemble seahorses and are involved in memory -- squiggle into smiles as we remember these mentors and continue to learn from their wise words. Let's open the door to the idea of mentorship also being contained within the depths of our memory -- stored conversations that our brains have logged as meaningful and we've yet to access the meaning until the time is right. A time-delayed trove of advice waiting for the right opportunity, contextual trigger, or life experience to unlock and release it.
"Over the top" people support unconventional paths (Sarah)
I've never met, nor will I ever meet, Diana Vreeland. She died long ago and yet, she has mentored me since childhood. I would wait in line for hours just to see her exhibitions at the Metropolitan Museum of Art about bringing the clothing of Russia to Hollywood, Ballet to Belle Epoque. Vreeland was a wild, outspoken, passionate character who was "over the top" yet intensely honest and direct with her brave form of communication. Without any formal education, she became the editor of Vogue Magazine and then the head of the MET's Costume Institute. She was a woman who made "it" happen -- both for herself and for those around her at a time when women were not typically in high-powered positions. Without a shy bone in her body, she simply embodied her deep interest in the world and desire to share it with everyone. Additionally, when she believed in someone, she made sure to guide and share her point of view with the intention of helping the other blossom. She lived and breathed cultural life, and viewed her role as an explorer of new worlds -- always with the intent to expand our inner horizons.
I lean on her strength to have the guts to stand true to my womanhood and my combination of passions, to reject the "normal," and bravely love a life I -- and you -- can make. This has made all the difference in the world to me as a person, a parent, and a professional. With her voice in my ear, I've followed my passions. I left the "comfort" of the couter-culture within theater life in New York for '90s San Francisco before all business revolved around the Internet. Her silent mentorship then led me to switch gears and produce a talented film critic, James Rocchi at Netflix. And then switch gears again to co-found a company, SM+ART, that I find daring and meaningful, which brings together the science+art of brainpower. Traditional? No. Over the top? Not at all, by Vreeland's standards. She continues to mentor me down an unconventional path and I just know that she will silently, deeply keep me daring. I'm counting on it and I know she will always come through for me, because, as she might say, "Darling! Why give up when there's so much to discover?"
All in all, you don't need to tackle the world on your own.
In this column, we've offered three very different examples of silent mentorship: (1) observing nature and the wordless creatures in it, (2) the memory of conversations past with people who have died, and (3) those you have never met, but admire for their courage, scruples, and change-making ability. Each of these mentors has quietly shaped our lives. With the increasing complexity of our technological world, we believe that silent mentorship will play an even more prominent role for younger generations than ever before. Mentorship, like most other aspect of our lives, is evolving beyond the traditional and becoming accessible in new ways, both digital and analog. It's all right there where you want it to be.
Go explore your world and find your mentor.
Wallace J. Nichols, Kevin S. Weiner http://www.mymntr.com, Sarah E. Kornfeldhttp://www.mymntr.com