There’s always something to howl about.

Finding Perfection in Real Estate

Earlier this week I was watching some old reruns of M*A*S*H.  What a well done series that was; funnier the first few years than it was later, in my opinion, because they got more political.  But the later years did give us a terrific character: Major Charles Emerson Winchester III.  Do you remember this guy?  What a pompous ass he was.  Speaking of pompous asses, why am I spending your valuable time reminiscing about a sitcom?  Good question, but I’ve got an even better answer.

I’m a big believer in being present.  If you’ve read any of my stuff or heard me speak, then you already know this.  As a matter of fact, if you’re anything like the agents I meet out here, you might even be tired of hearing it.  You might find the whole topic a little touchy-feely.  “There goes Sean again.  He might be a debonair, handsome, witty, intelligent, entertaining, man-of-action; but I’m tired of the Zen-happiness thing.  (I took a little license imagining what your thought about me might be;  you might not actually find me debonair…)  So today I’m going to sneak a little happiness in on you using pop culture: M*A*S*H to be specific.

Back to Major Charles Emerson Winchester III; as much of a buffoon as he was, the writers also gave him some of the most interesting lines.  I’m thinking of two in particular.  During one of his character’s early episodes, by way of explaining himself to the other doctors, he says, “I do one thing at a time, I do it very well, then I move on.”  That’s a great line isn’t it?  “I do one thing at a time…” sounds like someone who is present.  Someone who is focused on what he’s doing right then and there.  So far, so good.  “I do it very well…”  Hmmm, a little ego coming in here;  not so much about being present as it is being recognized by others for his accomplishments.  “Then I move on.”  OK, so now we see that he’s not really present at all.  He’s thinking about the next thing, but before he goes to it he expects your accolades for whatever he has just finished.  I’ll come back to this quote in a moment.

The other line I remember comes from an episode in which a soldier arrives badly hurt and Dr. Winchester, using those superior skills he constantly talks about, saves the man’s leg.  The Doc is very proud of this:  “Thanks to me,” he says, “when this boy goes home he’ll walk off the plane.”  You can imagine the good Doctor’s surprise then, when he lets  the soldier know just how great a job he did on the leg and the patient instead asks why his hand is in a sling.  Winchester explains that there was some minor trauma and there will be some permanent loss of dexterity… but the leg!  “I’ve saved your leg!”  “I don’t care about my leg!” the young man cries out.   “I’m a concert pianist!  My hands are my world.”  Dr. Winchester, a discerning patron of the arts himself, is crushed by this news and decides to help the soldier adjust.

To make a short story very long:  Winchester ends up showing the erstwhile pianist some pieces written specifically for the one-handed musician.  “What are you suggesting?” he asks,  “that I spend the rest of life touring and putting on concerts as some type of freak?”  Winchester tries to explain to the soldier that his gift is not located in his hands; it is located in his heart… and his soul.  Then he goes on to say:  “I’m a surgeon.  With these hands I can make a scalpel sing.  But all of my life, what I really wanted to be, was a concert pianist.  I took all the lessons.  I put in all the hours.”  (Here’s the big quote I promised two paragraphs ago)  “I can play the notes, but I cannot make music.”  Think about that:  I can play the notes, but I cannot make music.  Let’s go back for a moment to his first quote: “I do one thing at a time.  I do it very well.  Then I move on.”  Sounds an awful lot like someone practicing the notes, doesn’t it?  But to make music, as Dr. Winchester learned much too late in life, requires more than playing notes.  It takes a certain letting go of ego and analysis and judgment.  It comes from the perfection found in being completely and absolutely:  present.

This applies to a lot more than playing the piano.  What about when you’re writing a marketing piece for your listing, or listening to a prospect explain their needs, or exercising in the morning?  How about when you spend time with your family, your children?  Every single day you can experience the pleasure – the joy, really – of living in perfection.  Not the perfection of flawlessly playing the notes (that’s not even physically possible), but rather the perfection of making your own music.  Be present today, be perfect… and enjoy the music.