Mark: Most people spend more time planning their summer vacation than planning their lives. Michelle: Ouch. Okay, that is a direct hit. I feel personally attacked by that sentence. I have a spreadsheet for my next trip, but a spreadsheet for my life? That feels… overwhelming. Mark: It’s a powerful line, and it’s not mine. It’s a quote from the book we’re diving into today, and it hits hard because it suggests the most critical skill for success is one we almost never practice intentionally: the skill of thinking itself. Michelle: I love that. We treat thinking like breathing—something that just happens. But you're saying we can, and should, get better at it. What's the book? Mark: It’s How Successful People Think by John C. Maxwell. And Maxwell is an interesting figure to write this. He's a massive bestselling leadership guru, but his background is as a pastor for over two decades. Michelle: Oh, that’s a fascinating mix. So it’s not just corporate-speak. There’s a deeper, maybe more human, layer to it. Mark: Exactly. It gives the book this unique blend of pragmatic, almost business-like advice, and a deeper, moral call to live an intentional, examined life. He’s not just asking how you can be successful, but what success even means. Michelle: Okay, so when he says we need to "practice" thinking, what does that even look like? Where do we start? Mark: Well, that’s the perfect question. Because Maxwell argues that the first and most fundamental challenge every single one of us faces is a kind of thinker's dilemma. It’s a constant battle between the telescope and the microscope.

Michelle: The telescope and the microscope. I like that. So, seeing the stars versus examining a grain of sand? Mark: Precisely. It’s the tension between Big-Picture Thinking and Focused Thinking. Are you a dreamer who sees the grand vision but can't seem to manage the daily details? Or are you a doer, an execution machine who gets so lost in the weeds you forget why you’re even in the garden? Michelle: I think most people lean one way or the other. I know I can get completely bogged down in my to-do list and then look up a month later and realize I haven't made any real progress on the big stuff. Mark: It’s a universal struggle. Maxwell illustrates the power of Big-Picture Thinking with a great story. He was at the Senior Bowl, the big college football event, and got a chance to have dinner with two NFL head coaches, Dave Wannstedt and Butch Davis. Michelle: Okay, so he's in a room with top-tier strategic minds. I imagine he’s there to impress them, share his own leadership insights. Mark: That’s what most people would do. But Maxwell did the opposite. He spent the entire dinner asking them questions. He wanted to understand their world—how they built teams, how they managed egos, how they thought about the game. His son-in-law was baffled afterwards, asking why he didn't talk more. Maxwell’s point was that big-picture thinkers are constantly trying to expand their world by looking into others'. They listen more than they talk. They’re gathering data from everywhere to build a more complete map of reality. Michelle: That’s a great reframe. Big-picture thinking isn't just about your own vision; it's about having the humility to see the world through other people's eyes to enrich your own. I’ve been to conferences where I’m just worried about the parking or if the coffee is any good. Mark: Exactly! He tells that exact story. The attendees are thinking about their comfort, but the speaker is thinking about the lighting, the sound, the flow of the presentation. Who you are determines what you see. Big-picture thinking is the discipline of trying to see what everyone else sees, all at once. Michelle: Okay, I’m sold on the telescope. But what about the microscope? How do you actually get things done? It’s easy to get lost in the clouds of a big vision. Mark: This is where the counter-balance comes in, and it’s just as important. For this, Maxwell tells the story of Dan Cathy, the president of Chick-fil-A. Cathy runs a massive, complex organization with endless distractions. So Maxwell asked him, "Do you make time to think a high priority?" Michelle: I can guess the answer is yes, but I’m curious how. A guy like that must have a schedule that’s planned down to the second. Mark: He does. And he schedules his thinking time with the same rigidity. He calls it his "thinking schedule." Every two weeks, he blocks out half a day—just for thinking. Once a month, he takes a whole day. And every year, he takes two or three full days, completely away from the office, just to think. Michelle: Wow. A half-day every two weeks. That sounds like an impossible luxury for most people. I mean, for a CEO, sure. But for a project manager, a teacher, a nurse… how does a regular person apply this without just feeling guilty for not being a CEO? Mark: I think that’s the right challenge. And the answer isn't necessarily about the amount of time, but the intentionality. You might not have a half-day, but can you find 20 minutes? Can you designate a specific chair in your house as your "thinking chair"? The principle is about removing yourself from the reactive whirlwind of daily tasks to deliberately focus. Cathy’s schedule is an extreme example, but the underlying habit is universal: you have to carve out and protect space to move from just doing to thinking. Michelle: So it’s less about imitation and more about adaptation. It’s not the schedule, it’s the sacredness of the time. You’re building a mental clean room, free from the contamination of emails and notifications, so you can actually work on an idea. Mark: A mental clean room! That’s a perfect analogy. And Maxwell has a practical model for this focused work, the 10-80-10 principle. When he delegates, he’s heavily involved in the first 10%—casting the vision, setting the parameters. Then he steps away and lets his team do the core 80% of the work. He comes back for the final 10% to help refine and finish. That’s focused thinking in action. He’s applying his energy only where it’s most needed. Michelle: Okay, so we have our vision and our focus. We're using the telescope and the microscope. But what if our vision is… completely nuts? That brings us to the wild, messy world of creativity, right? Mark: Exactly. And this is where the next essential tension comes into play. It’s the dance between the wildness of creative thinking and the sobriety of realistic thinking.

Michelle: A dance between wildness and sobriety. I feel like that describes my twenties. But in terms of thinking, how do you hold both at once? They seem like total opposites. Mark: They do, and that’s why so many great ideas die. Maxwell says creativity is a skill, not a gift. It’s about connecting the unconnected. He uses the story of Sam Weston, the guy who created G.I. Joe. It wasn't a stroke of pure, out-of-the-blue genius. It was a creative combination of two existing, seemingly separate ideas: the doll, which was for girls, and the military action figure, which was for boys. He just connected them. Michelle: He built a bridge between two islands that everyone else saw as separate. And in doing so, he created a whole new continent of a toy market. Mark: A perfect way to put it. Maxwell’s point is that creative thinkers don’t fear failure, they embrace ambiguity, and they celebrate the offbeat. He quotes Maya Angelou: "You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have." It’s a muscle. Michelle: But muscles can be injured. And ideas are so fragile at the beginning. Maxwell talks about "creativity killers," right? The sneer, the yawn, the frown from the right person that can just stab an idea to death. Mark: He does. And that’s why the other side of this coin is so critical. A great idea is useless if it can't survive contact with reality. And for this, Maxwell gives one of the most sobering and powerful examples in the book. It’s about realistic thinking. Michelle: Let me guess, it’s not as fun as G.I. Joe. Mark: Not even close. The story is about the security for the Super Bowl in New Orleans in February 2002. This was the first Super Bowl after the 9/11 attacks. Michelle: Oh, wow. The level of fear and uncertainty in the country at that time was off the charts. Mark: It was immense. And the people planning security for that event had to be the most realistic thinkers on the planet. They couldn't afford to be optimistic. They had to think about the absolute worst-case scenarios. The author was there and describes it vividly. The entire area was a fortress. Eight-foot fences and concrete barriers. Sharpshooters positioned on the rooftops of buildings. The interstate next to the Super Dome was shut down. It was a no-fly zone. Michelle: That’s chilling. They were literally planning for a warzone scenario in the middle of a celebration of sport. Mark: They had to. That is the essence of realistic thinking. It’s not pessimism; it’s preparedness. It’s about stripping away the "wish factor" and confronting the hard, ugly truth of what could happen, so you can build a plan to prevent it or deal with it. Michelle: That’s… a profound connection. So realistic thinking isn't the enemy of creativity; it's the foundation that makes creativity possible. You can't launch a rocket from a swamp. The intense, brutal realism of the Super Bowl security was the concrete launchpad that allowed the "creative" event—the game, the celebration, the joy—to happen safely. Mark: You absolutely nailed it. That’s the synthesis. You need the creative spark of G.I. Joe, but you need the realistic foundation of the Super Bowl security. One without the other is either a fantasy or a catastrophe. Successful people know how to hold that tension—to dream big, but plan for the worst. Michelle: So we've covered the individual's internal world—the balance of big-picture and focus, creativity and realism. But we don't think in a vacuum, do we? We're surrounded by other people. Mark: And that, Michelle, is where Maxwell argues the real magic happens. We've talked a lot about individual thinking skills. But his most profound point might be that the greatest thinking happens when we stop thinking alone.

Michelle: "When we stop thinking alone." That runs counter to our classic image of the lone genius, the solitary inventor having a eureka moment in their lab. Mark: It completely shatters it. Maxwell is a huge proponent of what he calls Shared Thinking. He believes that "none of us is as smart as all of us." He tells a story from his own life as a young, inexperienced pastor in the 1970s. He knew he didn't have the answers, so he decided to "rent" other people's brains. Michelle: Rent their brains? What does that mean? Mark: He identified the ten most successful pastors in the country and wrote them a letter. In it, he offered them $100—which was a lot of money for him back then—for just one hour of their time. He didn't want to preach to them; he wanted to ask them questions. One of them said yes. He flew out, sat down with his notepad, and just absorbed everything he could. He was accelerating his own growth by borrowing decades of someone else's experience. Michelle: That’s brilliant. It’s humility in action. He was admitting what he didn't know and was willing to pay for the shortcut. It’s so much faster than trying to learn every lesson the hard way yourself. Mark: It’s exponentially faster. And it leads to a better, more mature outcome because it protects you from your own blind spots. But Maxwell takes it one step further. There's one final type of thinking that sits above all the others. It’s Unselfish Thinking. Michelle: Okay, now that definitely sounds like the pastor in him coming out. How does that fit into a book about success? Mark: It reframes the entire purpose of success. And the story he uses to illustrate this is one of the most famous transformations in history. It’s about Alfred Nobel. Michelle: The Nobel Prize guy. I know he invented dynamite, which always seemed like a weird contradiction. Mark: It’s the core of the story. Nobel was an armaments manufacturer who became incredibly wealthy from his invention. One day, his brother died, but a French newspaper made a mistake and published Alfred's obituary instead. Michelle: Oh, no. Reading your own obituary has to be a surreal experience. Mark: And it was devastating. The headline read: "The Merchant of Death Is Dead." The article went on to condemn him for creating a weapon that allowed people to kill each other faster than ever before. Nobel was horrified. He was confronted with his legacy—that the world would remember him only for creating an instrument of destruction. Michelle: Wow. I have chills. That’s a brutal mirror to have held up to your life. Mark: It was. And in that moment of reflection, he made a decision. He decided to use his entire fortune to do the opposite—to celebrate those who brought the greatest benefit to humankind. He established the Nobel Prizes for physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and, most importantly, for peace. He completely rewrote his own legacy. Michelle: That is incredible. It completely reframes the whole book, doesn't it? It stops being about 'think to become successful' and starts being about 'what is your success for?' It’s not just about the bottom line on your bank statement, but the bottom line of your life. Mark: That’s it. That’s the ultimate destination of the book. It moves from skills to purpose. Unselfish thinking isn't just a nice thing to do; it's what gives all the other thinking skills their meaning. It creates a legacy.

Mark: When you pull it all together, you see that Maxwell's message is that thinking isn't a single, monolithic skill. It’s a dynamic spectrum of abilities. It’s about moving fluidly from the wide-angle lens of the big picture to the fine-tuned microscope of focus. Michelle: And from the wild, blue-sky dream of the creative to the hard, unforgiving ground of the realist. Mark: Exactly. And then, most importantly, it’s about the journey from the solo pursuit of "me" and my success, to the shared, collaborative, and generous legacy of "we." It’s a roadmap for a more effective, and ultimately, a more fulfilling life. Michelle: It really is. It makes you ask yourself a pretty pointed question: what's one thought I have on repeat, day in and day out, that's shaping my life, for better or for worse? Is it a limiting thought? A big-picture thought? A selfish one? Mark: That’s a powerful question to sit with. And a great place for our listeners to start their own "thinking practice." Michelle: I think so too. We’d love to hear from you all on this. What’s a thinking trap you fall into, or what was your biggest "aha moment" from this discussion? Come find us on our social channels and join the conversation in the Aibrary community. We learn so much from your perspectives. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.