ABSTRACT
Sometimes when I am consulting I imagine myself to be a floating figure in one of Russian painter Marc Chagall’s fanciful paintings. On a good day I hover high in the air, wafted along on currents of energy and excitement, feeling smart, strong, and safe in the company of competent, good-humored, action-oriented people. On other days I fall rudely to the ground, literally shot down by a relentless angry hammering at the way things are in the world and at me personally for being the outsider who cannot fix it.
