Authentic people are peculiar. I’m using the word “peculiar” here to denote the quality of being magnetic to others. I just did a mental survey of people whom I would say I know pretty well. Without exception I noticed two things they have in common. First, they’re peculiar; every last one of them. Second, it is their peculiarity that draws me to them. Presumably it is my peculiarity that serves as a bonding agent as well. Why? Because peculiarity is central to being authentic. It raises our connectivity quotient to new levels.

I hope you enjoy this episode, and would love to know how you do with the action item I present here. Just send me a note at andrew@peoplechangepeople.com

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One of the cuter kids’ tee shirts I’ve seen reads, “I do all my own stunts.” I witness my own three children performing stunts every day. When I was in college I traveled to Glacier National Park in Montana with a group of friends. We spent three days exploring the park, climbing, and doing things I earnestly hope my own children never try. On one of our hikes we discovered a deep crack in the earth. At bottom ran a creek. Sizing up the span and depth of the chasm we decided to try and leap across, a distance of about six feet. A fall to the bottom would be catastrophic. One by one we made it to the other side. I recall landing and grasping a tree branch to keep from falling backward. I have a photo of this somewhere.

Childhood is characterized by doing remarkable, risky things. Somehow we learn to be less risky as we age. We wish for our children to be preserved from the perils and risks relationships can possess. But by the time we enter our adult years we’ve learned that relating with people can be hazardous and painful. Instead of doing our own stunts, we’re inclined to use stunt-doubles to prevent injuring ourselves. It’s so much easier and less threatening to go through the day on cruise control, disengaged from the people with whom we live and work. This is the equivalent of sending our stunt-double instead of bringing all of who we are and have to offer. The riskiest thing we can do is to bring ourselves fully to our professional and personal relationships. But when we summon the courage to try and be fully present and engaged, we’re more alive and available to others. However terrifying this can be, we can learn to do our own stunts.

I want to emphasize that there are times when healthy boundaries in relationships are necessary. It’s natural and healthy when first meeting someone to establish a healthy distance until you better know him or her to be a safe person. In cases where particular individuals have shown themselves to be hurtful, we’re wise to protect ourselves. But there is a difference between choosing safety consciously and wisely, and clinging to it habitually. Our boundaries should match the threat. Where there is no detectible threat, we can work toward full engagement. I say “work” because this is a process. It’s something we apply ourselves to, not something we are inclined toward naturally.

A good friend of mine was driving down the road last week when black smoke began to pour out of his tailpipe, a good indication that all was not well under the hood. His truck sputtered as far as the nearest mechanic, where it died.

How do you think the mechanic diagnosed the problem? I doubt he replaced the exhaust pipe. I’m sure he looked under the truck’s hood. Even I, as one whose mechanical knowledge is severely limited, know that the exhaust pipe coughing black smoke was merely the harbinger of bad news, not the problem’s cause.

I raise this illustration to highlight important considerations for human relationships—particularly when we are committed to helping improve the health of another. We often only recognize and therefore occupy ourselves with symptoms of problems. The symptoms, like the black plume trailing behind my friend’s truck, can be a smoke screen, blocking our view from the core problem.

Our federal government embodies this phenomenon when it channels millions of tax payer dollars into numerous funding streams with the aim to deter particular behaviors: alcohol prevention, drug prevention, obesity prevention and so on. Programs that target behaviors are, by definition, addressing a particular symptom. This does not mean, of course, such programs are indifferent to the causes of such behaviors. And I am not advocating that we only treat the cause and ignore symptoms, many of which are quite harmful. But what’s critical is that the people, programs, and organizations honing in on these behaviors are mindful of the common sources from which these behaviors spring.

We can describe the source in a number of ways: lack of self-worth, negligible future orientation, and the like. Treating the root causes of destructive behavior, which reside at the core of our being, require a deeper human-to-human connection in which trust is the bonding agent. I hope to refresh your resolve and remind you that who you are as a unique person, not the program or protocol you implement, is the most potent element of your work.