Olivia: Jackson, I have a statistic for you that might ruin your day. Research shows that while 95% of people think they're self-aware... Jackson: Okay, I'm in that 95%. I feel pretty good about my self-awareness. I meditate. Sometimes. Olivia: ...only 10 to 15 percent of us actually are. Jackson: Hold on. So there's a nine-in-ten chance we're completely deluding ourselves? That's... terrifying. It’s like finding out you’ve had spinach in your teeth for the last decade. Olivia: It is terrifying! And it's the central problem tackled in the book we're diving into today, Self-Awareness, from the Harvard Business Review Emotional Intelligence Series. It's a collection of essays from heavy-hitters like Daniel Goleman, Susan David, and Tasha Eurich. Jackson: The HBR folks. So this isn't just pop psychology, it's grounded in serious organizational research. This is the stuff they teach at business schools to future CEOs who are probably part of that deluded 90 percent. Olivia: Exactly. In fact, Tasha Eurich, one of the key authors, is an organizational psychologist whose work is built on massive studies involving thousands of people. She's the one who uncovered that startling 10-15% number, arguing that self-awareness isn't just a soft skill, it's the "meta-skill" of the 21st century. It sets the upper limit for your success. Jackson: The meta-skill. I like that. It’s the skill that makes all the other skills better. Okay, if we're so bad at this, what does 'good' even look like? What is self-awareness, really, if it's not just thinking about yourself a lot?

Olivia: That’s the perfect question, because the book argues that a lot of what we call self-reflection is actually counter-productive. Eurich breaks true self-awareness into two distinct, and sometimes competing, types. First, there's Internal Self-Awareness. Jackson: Okay, what's that? Olivia: That's how clearly you see your own inner world—your values, your passions, your aspirations, your emotional reactions, your strengths and weaknesses. It's your understanding of your own operating system. Jackson: Got it. Knowing what makes me tick. That seems like the whole game. Olivia: Ah, but it's only half. The second type is External Self-Awareness. This is understanding how other people see you on those exact same dimensions. It's knowing the impact you have on the world around you. And here’s the kicker: the research shows these two skills are not related. You can be high in one and shockingly low in the other. Jackson: Whoa. So you can be a self-aware hermit who understands every nuance of your soul but is a complete terror to work with because you have no idea how you come across? Olivia: Precisely. Or the opposite—you could be a master of managing your reputation, hyper-aware of how everyone perceives you, but have no clue what you actually want out of life. You're all user interface, no operating system. The book calls people who are high on internal but low on external awareness "Introspectors." Jackson: I feel seen. And a little attacked. Olivia: The book has a great story about this. There was a marketing manager named Jeremiah. Early in his career, he was all about internal self-awareness. He knew he hated accounting, so he followed his passion and moved into marketing. He felt aligned with his values, he was energized—a total win for internal awareness. Jackson: Sounds like he nailed it. End of story? Olivia: Not quite. He was so focused on his own internal world that he was blind to how he was showing up to his team. He thought he was being passionate and direct; they thought he was being abrasive and dismissive. He didn't realize it until he got some brutally honest feedback in a company training. It was a complete shock to him. Jackson: The classic "intent versus impact" problem. He intended to be a passionate leader, but the impact was that his team thought he was a jerk. Olivia: Exactly. And that feedback was his turning point. He realized he needed to balance the scales. He had to start paying just as much attention to his external self-awareness—to how his actions landed with others. And when he did, that's when his career really took off. He reached a new level of success and, more importantly, fulfillment. Jackson: That makes so much sense. But I have to ask, because this is a criticism I've seen leveled at some of these corporate self-help books: can't this focus on 'external awareness' just turn you into a people-pleaser? Someone who is constantly managing their 'personal brand' instead of being authentic? Olivia: That's a fantastic and critical question. The book is very clear on this. True external self-awareness isn't about pleasing everyone or changing who you are to fit in. It's about closing the gap between your intent and your impact. It’s about ensuring the person you want to be is the person others actually experience. It's a tool for authenticity, not for performance. Jackson: Okay, that distinction is crucial. It’s not about changing your core values, but about making sure your communication and behavior accurately transmit those values to others. Olivia: You've got it. And that brings us to the next layer. To even know what your values are, you have to understand where they came from in the first place. The book argues you can't really know yourself without understanding what made you. It's about becoming an archaeologist of your own life.

Jackson: An archaeologist of your own life. I love that phrasing. It sounds so much more profound than just "thinking about your past." So we're digging for artifacts and trying to piece together a story? Olivia: That's exactly it. Another author in this collection, Bernie Swain, argues that our leadership styles and deepest passions are forged in what he calls "turning points." These are the defining moments that shape us, and they generally fall into three categories: People, Events, and Environments. Jackson: People, Events, and Environments. Okay, break those down for me. Olivia: A 'person' turning point is a key individual who influenced you—a parent, a mentor, a friend. An 'event' is a specific, often transformative, experience—a failure, a tragedy, a great success. And an 'environment' is a formative setting—the family you grew up in, the culture of your first job, the neighborhood that raised you. Jackson: Most of us can probably think of a few of those, but they can feel a bit abstract. Do they have a story that makes this idea really land? Olivia: They have an incredibly powerful one. It’s about Robert Reich, who later became the U.S. Secretary of Labor. As a child, Reich was very short for his age and was constantly bullied. But he had a protector, an older kid named Michael 'Mickey' Schwerner, who always looked out for him. Jackson: A classic story of a childhood friendship. Olivia: It becomes much more than that. Years later, in 1964, Mickey Schwerner, along with two other civil rights workers, was murdered by the Ku Klux Klan in Mississippi for trying to register African Americans to vote. For Reich, this wasn't just a news story; it was the murder of the boy who had protected him. Jackson: Wow. That's… that's incredibly heavy. Olivia: It became the defining event of his life. He said, "Mickey protected me. I, in turn, feel a responsibility to protect others." That single, tragic event galvanized his entire life's work. His career in public service wasn't just a job; it was a mission born from that turning point. He was living out the legacy of his protector. Jackson: That just reframes everything. It turns a career choice into a moral imperative. It's not just about what you're passionate about; it's about what you feel responsible for. But how do we even begin to identify our own turning points? Most of us don't have stories that are that dramatic or historically significant. Olivia: You're right, and they don't have to be. The book gives another great example with Madeleine Albright. When she was Secretary of State, facing incredibly tough decisions, she would draw strength from a simple memory: picturing her father. He had been a Czechoslovak diplomat whose career was destroyed, twice, by political upheaval. He ended up as a professor in the U.S., working diligently in his study in their modest home, even when the basement flooded and he had to put his feet up on bricks to keep working. Jackson: That's such a vivid image. Olivia: For her, that memory of her father—a 'person' turning point—was a deep well of resilience. It wasn't a world-changing event, but it was a foundational part of her identity. The point is to look for those moments, big or small, that left an indelible mark on your values. Jackson: Okay, so we're blind to ourselves, and our past is this complex map of influences. It feels a bit overwhelming. What can we actually do to get better at this? How do we move from being an archaeologist to being an architect of our future selves?

Olivia: This is where the book gets incredibly practical. It offers a whole toolkit for cultivating self-awareness, moving beyond just understanding. And some of the most effective tools are surprisingly simple and counter-intuitive. Jackson: Give me the best one. The one I can use tomorrow. Olivia: Okay, here's a big one: Ask 'What,' Not 'Why.' When we're in a negative situation, our natural tendency is to ask 'Why?' Why do I feel so terrible? Why did I mess that up? Why am I so stressed? Jackson: Guilty as charged. That's my internal monologue 24/7. Olivia: The problem is, the research shows that asking 'why' often leads to unproductive rumination. We get stuck in a loop of self-criticism and often invent answers that feel true but aren't helpful. The book suggests a simple switch: ask 'What' instead. Jackson: 'What' instead of 'why'? That sounds like a fortune cookie. Does it actually work? Olivia: It does, because 'what' questions are more objective and forward-looking. Instead of "Why do I hate my job?", you ask, "What are the specific situations at work that make me feel drained, and what do they have in common?" It shifts you from being a victim of your feelings to being a scientist of your experience. Jackson: A scientist of your experience. I like that. You're looking for data, not blame. Olivia: Exactly. There's a story of an entertainment industry veteran named Jose who hated his job. Instead of asking "Why do I feel so terrible?", he started asking "What situations make me feel terrible?" He realized the common thread was a lack of personal connection and a feeling of superficiality in his interactions. That insight gave him the clarity to leave entertainment and pursue a far more fulfilling career in wealth management, where he could build deep, long-term relationships with clients. The 'what' question unlocked his path forward. Jackson: That's a game-changer. It's so simple but it completely reframes the problem into a solvable puzzle. Okay, what's another tool from the kit? Olivia: Another one comes from the chapter on receiving feedback, which we all know can be brutal. The authors, Sheila Heen and Douglas Stone, say we need to learn to find the coaching in criticism. But that's hard. So they offer a brilliant technique for getting better feedback in the first place. Jackson: I'm all ears. My performance reviews are usually a masterclass in vague corporate-speak. Olivia: The technique is to ask for just one thing. Instead of the broad, terrifying question, "Do you have any feedback for me?", which puts the other person on the spot, you ask something much more specific and low-stakes: "What's one thing you see that I could do differently to have a greater impact?" Jackson: Oh, that's good. That's really good. It lowers the stakes for the person giving the feedback because they don't have to deliver a whole laundry list of your flaws. And it makes it digestible for you. Olivia: It's a genius life hack. The book tells the story of a fund manager, Roberto, who was completely overwhelmed by his 360-degree review. It was pages of charts and anonymous comments. He felt paralyzed. So he started a new practice. Each quarter, he'd ask two or three trusted colleagues for just one thing he could work on. Jackson: And it worked? Olivia: It transformed everything. The conversations were productive, not defensive. Over time, he started hearing themes, which gave him a clear sense of where his real growth edge was. It helped him and his team work together more smoothly. It’s a small, practical step to start closing that 90% delusion gap we talked about at the beginning.

Olivia: And I think that's the real power of this collection of ideas. It takes this huge, intimidating concept—'know thyself'—and breaks it down into manageable, human-sized pieces. Jackson: It really does. You start with the shocking truth that you're probably not as self-aware as you think. Then you look back, not to dwell on the past, but to understand the forces that shaped you. And finally, you're given these simple, elegant tools, like asking 'what' or asking for 'one thing,' to start actively building a more aware version of yourself. Olivia: Ultimately, the book argues that self-awareness isn't a destination. It's not a skill you 'master' and then check off a list. It's a continuous, often uncomfortable, process of discovery. As one of the authors, Declan Fitzsimons, puts it, drawing on Shakespeare, true development is less about learning new skills and more about giving up the person we think we are in order to discover the person we could become. Jackson: "Presume not that I am the thing I was." That's the line from Prince Hal, right? It's about being willing to shed your old identity. And it doesn't have to be this monumental quest. It can start with one small experiment. Maybe this week, instead of asking 'Why am I so stressed?', just try asking 'What, specifically, is making me feel this way?' Olivia: Exactly. It's about choosing curiosity over comfort. And we'd love to hear about your own turning points. What's one person, event, or environment that shaped who you are today? Share your story with us on our socials; we read every one and the patterns that emerge are always fascinating. Jackson: It’s a great question to reflect on. It’s been a fantastic deep dive, Olivia. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.