687: Jim Collins - What To Make of a Life, The 3 Types of Luck, Inflection Points, Cliffs, Encodings, Navigating the Fog, the Art of Getting People To Want To Do What Must Be Done, and Reconnecting with an Old Friend

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Jim Collins is the author of some of the most influential business books ever written — Good to Great, Built to Last, and Great by Choice. His concepts have become part of the leadership vocabulary. Level 5 Leadership. The Flywheel. First Who, Then What. The Hedgehog Concept. He spent more than a decade at Stanford as a professor and has advised CEOs, four-star generals, and heads of state. His new book is What to Make of a Life: Cliffs, Fog, Fire, and the Self-Knowledge Imperative. It is the product of ten years of research and is the most personal thing he has ever written. We flew to Boulder, Colorado, to record this one in person with Jim.

Key Learnings

Jim's grandfather wrote his own death story. Jimmy Collins was a test pilot in the 1930s. He told Jim's grandmother, Dolores, that if he died, she should pull the last chapter from his desk and publish it. He died in a test crash. After the service, she pulled out the chapter. The title was "I'm Dead." The last chapter, written in first person, described the plane coming out of the sky, the screaming wings, the crash. The final words, by his own pen: "I am dead now."

For seven decades, his grandmother never cried. When Jim asked her in her nineties to tell the story of his grandfather, she cried and said, "Thank you for that. I've never cried before." She'd been a single mom in the middle of the Depression. Of all the things Jim feels good about in his life, asking her to tell that story before she died at almost 100 years old is one he's most proud of.

A cliff is an event that alters the trajectory of your life and forces you to reconstruct everything that comes after.

Jim's first big cliff: he lost his father while his father was still alive. Jim's father took the family to San Francisco in the 1960s. They lived a few houses down from Haight Street. When a man was shot dead on their doorstep, Jim's mom moved them to Boulder. They lived in a cold basement with cots and a hot plate. They couldn't afford a Christmas tree, so Jim and his brother rolled a boulder into the basement and called it their Christmas rock.

The Greyhound bus moment. In high school, Jim took a Thanksgiving turkey on a Greyhound bus down to New Mexico, where his father was living in an adobe hut with a dirt floor. He had this romantic vision: they'd cook the turkey, share Thanksgiving, bond as father and son. The whole weekend, his father had no interest in him. He spent it trying to convince Jim to convince his grandmother to give him money. On the bus ride home, looking out the window into the fog, Jim realized: there will never, ever be a father there. No male role models. No frameworks. No guidance. "I've got this one life. What do I do with it?"

The inflection point in Jim's life is Joanne. They got engaged four days after their first date. He'd admired her from afar for years but never had the courage to ask her out. Once they were together, Jim began a conscious process: I need to become a person worthy of being married to her. He didn't know exactly what that meant or how to get there. But he knew that was the work. Forty-six years later, it's still a never-ending journey.

What Joanne does brilliantly: she sees what needs attention. Jim is encoded to hear it. Someone once asked Joanne what she thought Jim's greatest strength was. She said: "Jim takes critical feedback better than any person I've ever met." Joanne sees what needs attention. Jim hears it. Then they adapt and adjust. That's the inner flywheel of their marriage.

Circle the wagons together. Guns pointing out, never at each other. When life gets really difficult, whether it's disease or other cliffs. You are always together. Always on the inside of the wagons. Never aimed at each other.

Joanne won the 1985 Hawaii Ironman by 92 seconds. With a hamstring injury that limited her running training to 16 miles a week, she came off the bike with a 10-minute lead. Then mile by mile, the lead shrank. Nine minutes. Eight. Seven. With a few miles left, she stopped in the middle of the lava field, massaging her legs, almost pleading with them to run. She looked up at the sky. Then her gaze fixed somewhere down the road. She started to run.

You're racing for self-respect. Joanne told Jim afterward: in the end, you're racing to know that you couldn't have run a step faster. Only you'll know. If you know you couldn't have run a step faster, that's actually winning.

When Jim writes, he's on the lava fields. When he finishes a book, he wants to know he couldn't have written one sentence better. When you're on the lava fields, this is the moment you want to quit. Don't.

Writing is thinking. When the writing isn't working, the thinking isn't clear. Go back to the data. Find the through-line.

There are three types of luck:

• What luck. A cancer diagnosis. A guitar left in an empty house. An event that breaks your way.
• Who luck. The people who walk into your life. Joanne. Morten Hansen. Jerry Porras. Bill Lazier.
• Zeit luck. When what you're doing intersects with the surrounding zeitgeist. Jimmy Page was in Surrey when the British rock explosion happened.

Luck is an event you didn't cause, with significant consequences, and an element of surprise.

The big winners weren't luckier. They had a higher return on luck. What you do with luck events matters more than the luck itself.

Bill Lazier: the closest thing to a father Jim ever had. Jim ended up in Bill's class at Stanford because the class he was trying to take was full. The random course-sorting mechanism threw him into the first class Bill ever taught. Pure WHO luck. Jim did not cause that.

Discover your encodings. An encoding is a durable capacity of your intrinsic construction that resides within, awaiting discovery through the experiences of life.

Jim has done over 300 online courses on every imaginable subject. Constitutional law. Napoleon. World War I. The history of China. He started them to learn how to teach. Then his curiosity took over. That's what an encoding looks like in the wild.

You have a constellation of encodings. Like stars. When your life captures a bright set of those encodings, you're in frame. When it doesn't, you're out of frame. The same person can look amazing in frame and not very amazing out of frame.

The most important finding from this book: don't follow anyone else's advice. Their advice is well-meaning. It may have worked beautifully for them. But it worked for them because it flowed from their encodings. And their encodings are not your encodings.

Barbara McClintock and Grace Hopper. Two women who won the Nobel Prize and shaped computer science. McClintock was encoded for solitary work. She didn't even have a phone. She heard about her Nobel Prize on the radio. Hopper was encoded to work through people. She kept a pirate flag in her office and once stole furniture for her team in the middle of the night. Two completely different encodings. What they shared: their lives were in alignment with their encodings.

Leadership is the art of getting people to want to do what must be done. It's not a trait. It's a choice. Anyone in any organization can lead, depending on their desire to make a difference. Nobody needs to wait for a title.

Ryan's encoding is "the relentless persistence of invitation." Jim observed that Ryan has incredible encodings for what he'd describe as attractive persistence. Not pushy. Not aggressive. But persistent and welcoming. The invitation never goes away.

The way you lead should be different from everyone else. Because you are encoded differently. Trust your encodings, not their playbook.

Roger Sherman saved the U.S. Constitution. Twice. He created the bicameral legislature compromise. He insisted the Bill of Rights be amendments, not rewrites. Yet most people don't know his name. He almost never spoke. He listened in committees and waited for the precise moment to introduce just the right point to turn American history. Quiet. Behind the scenes. Uncharismatic. Unglamorous. Enormously effective. That was his encoding.

You should largely ignore what other successful leaders did. It's marvelous to listen to. It might give you ideas. But everything that worked for them reflected their encodings, not yours. The work isn't to copy their playbook. The work is to discover your encodings and trust them.

The color of Jim's fire changed. When he was younger, his fuel was rage, fury, and a sense of terror with no safety net. He used to worry that if he ever lost it, he'd lose his drive. What replaced it was a different kind of fire: the joy of curiosity, of being lost in giant projects, of marvelous conversations, of sharing what he's learned. His drive is higher than ever. It just feels a lot better now.

The 3x3 reflective practice. After almost any conversation, teaching moment, or significant interaction, Jim writes down three things that went well and three things he could have done better. He's done it for years. He's now systematizing it. He doesn't pause to celebrate. He pauses to learn