A good friend of mine is the best conversation starter I’ve ever met.  He defers out of humbleness.  Yet year after year when we eat lunch together or have the opportunity to talk later into the evening, he springs new topics, challenges your perspective and brings levity and insight to discussions in a fresh way.

I look up to him.  In fact, I model myself after him when it comes to bringing people into a conversation and nudging them to engage.  There is both science and art involved in this.

Getting people around you to lighten up, and free good energy to be more creative and embracing is a worthy goal.  It makes for a better work environment, adds to your family life and enlivens your social experience.

But generating new topics that bring people together and activate them to talk with each other takes an approach that is thoughtful and forward-thinking.  You have to stay ahead of them.  You have to look down the road and find subject matter that challenges, reinforces or illuminates.

There are many ways to do this.  One which I find worthy is putting up a weekly message on my work grease board.  It creates a market for discussion.

Each week, I find a quote that spurs my thoughts.  It could be funny, it might relate to business or it could provide motivational support.

A striking thing occurs:  People read it.  And they comment on it. Then, sometimes they even stop by my gray cube farm and talk with me.   This connects us.  That is crucial.

Other times, a clandestine human being decides not to engage.  Instead, that individual chooses to leave a special note on the grease board.  Sometimes they change the message slightly to make it closer to a version they prefer.  Other times, they insert a phrase or modification that makes it funnier or more robust.

Regardless of whether it’s an author penning new words on my wall, or someone stopping by to chat, what the weekly statement does is generate conversation.  Someone strolls by.  S/he starts thinking about the phrase.  The mental juices flow.  And then whammo, a boring day morphs into one where we test boundaries.

People want to know what I will put up next.  If I miss a week, they want to know what’s wrong.  They remind me that the phrase has been up there for a while. 

This is good, too, because it shows people pay attention.  They think.  They want to see a new idea.

“Ideals are peaceful; history is violent” is the phrase up right now.  It’s from the movie, “Fury,” about the WWII tank team fighting the Nazis in Germany.  It struck me when Brad Pitt spoke it to the rookie gunner who joined his team after their previous tank mate had been killed.

It’s easy to wish for something is the way I read that line from the movie, but the reality is a lot tougher.  You have to get down in the trenches and fight it out.  You can be a pacifist at heart, but not in war.

“What you do trumps what you say every time.”  That’s another recent posting on the grease board.  I like this one because it strays from the cliché of “you need to walk the talk.”  It’s stronger, more direct.

That’s what jump-starts people – coming up with a new angle that refreshes how they see things.  Otherwise stale, tepid statements take over, you’re ignored and zombie-like behavior takes over.

It’s not easy starting good conversations (or keeping them going, for that matter).  The result is worth the effort.  Dig a little.

Lou Holtz, former head football coach for a number of major U.S. universities, including Notre Dame, recently handed out a nugget on the TV golf show “Feherty.”  He had been playing golf, he explained on the show, and messing up.  He started cursing.

Not recognizing the futility of his maneuver, Holtz let his anger affect his game, like so many of us who play that frustrating sport.  At some point, his playing partner said, “Lou, you’re not good enough to get angry.”  That stopped him, and as he described on the show, he no longer cusses on the course.

His buddy calling him out about his talent level strikes me as a catalyst for recognizing one’s weaknesses, and helping to put life in perspective.  His big point was, “You aren’t as good as you think you are.”

Holtz, recognizing the truth in his playing partner’s statement, actually adapted as he continued to golf.  Not using four-letter words and eliminating red-faced tirades have likely improved his score and happiness level when he does screw up.  But the first step was figuring out his measuring stick – in some way he was setting a comparative standard for himself that was unrealistic. 

There are many ways we hold ourselves up to standards.  I doubt most of us recognize we do this.  Like Holtz, we grow frustrated, expect things, and wonder why circumstances don’t turn out the way we imagine them beforehand.  The difference between our fantasies and reality comes down to the barometer of expectations you deploy.

A friend of mine tells a story about a coworker arguing against their group making worthy broadcast or print visuals because they don’t have the talent to make them at an expert level.  Many would call this heresy.

But the counter perspective says if you aren’t that good, focus on what you do well.  In this case, that meant finding good content for the story rather than trying to make the visuals the best on the planet.

During this meeting, my friend explained, a coworker illustrated this point by singing into a recorder and playing it back to show how terrible he was at carrying a tune.  No matter how many singing lessons he took, it would not improve enough to secure him a recording contract, particularly compared to someone who has a strong natural ability to sing.  Play to your strengths and avoid your weaknesses – great advice for golf and life.

It’s best not to compare yourself to anyone.  When you examine the phrase, “You’re not good enough to get angry about that,” what other parts of your life does it apply to?

“You’re not smart enough to be CEO.”

“You’re not driven enough to be rich.”

“You’re not talented enough to make a movie.”

“You don’t have the experience, financing and political acumen to become a U.S. Senator.”

The examples abound.  Each of us has a special area that we might believe is our dream.  That’s good, but it must be balanced against the reality of ability. 

Most of us compare ourselves to others.  This defines us, and often leads to our feelings of “success” or “insignificance.”  If you never do this, then don’t read the conclusion of this piece.  But if you ever have that slight itch to look at others and their accomplishments in comparison to your own, then read on.

Find your niche and keep your own barometer.  Determine your expertise, what you care about, and look inside yourself for comparisons.  Keeping it internal keeps your temperature down.  And remember, “You may not be that good to get angry.”

I’m the perpetual “Chili Cookoff Loser.”  They have a special category for people like me.  I find new venues from year to year, seeing if I can find a pliable judge.  But no matter how much the recipe is tweaked, or bribes offered, or rosy talk about batch #11 (which just happens to be mine) is discussed with the judges, I can’t seem to get over the hump.

That’s okay.  It’s really not about the winning.  I love cooking.  Chili is a journey, like any dish that you spend time simmering, tasting, adding and subtracting ingredients.  It never comes out the same, even when you follow all your steps exactly.  Maybe it’s the stove that changes, and that can be used as an excuse for losing.

Even second or third place seem out of reach to me.  It’s easy to accept not finishing first if there are 25 contestants, or even if there are 10.  That’s a 4% or 10% chance, respectively, to win.  There will be 24 or 9 losers in those two scenarios.  If you add the opportunity to finish second or third though, the odds go up.  You’d think at some point that the pot of goodness my family enjoys and I labor over would win enough hearts and guts to get some recognition.

Everyone goes into the contest thinking the same thing:  Mine’s the best.  Over the years, you refine your technique to get the spices just right, the hotness factor dialed in, and the consistency to the point where others enjoy it.

That could be the problem.  If you cook to the lowest common denominator, you don’t please anyone.  It may need heat that smokes your sinuses. You may need to overload it with beans, so the lovers of the pinto bean beat their chests and produce excess methane.  Conversely, if you go the Texas chili route, you eliminate the beans and ratchet up some other component of the batch.

Regardless, I plan to change.  If I’m going to lose, I’ll go down trying something new.

The dish I made most recently was Mexichili, a mixture of Mexican salsa with black beans, corn and ground beef (or made with chicken instead as a change of pace; I’ve lost with both types of meat).  Since it’s clearly a losing trend, that gets put on the back burner.

Similarly, I have lost in the past making vegetarian chili and a modified version our mom shared with us once we started cooking on our own.  Those have lost when I made them plain, and they lost when I added ingredients, trying new things, throwing in vegetables like okra or field peas.  No one ever said, “Mmmm, what is this green thing in here?”  Or, “What are these things that look like pinto beans but are smaller?”

Rather than creating a chili kaleidoscope, it might be best to re-ignite the basics:  High quality meat; lots of chili powder, cumin and garlic.  Dice up some ripe tomatoes.  Simmer it.  Taste it.  See if you sweat.

Or the next time I enter, I could make white chili, which I know nothing about.  Chicken, white beans, onions and jalapeno peppers visually stand out in versions I’ve seen other people make. 

I’ve got to change.  It’s time to either get out a cookbook (boo) or steal something I’ve seen someone else make. 

Theft is easier.  But I still need to give it my landmark stamp.  The tough thing is figuring out what that should be.

Everyone likes something different.  Ask about pizza and each person you speak with will rave about a different type.  The same holds true for chili.  Find a common denominator, and you win.  I’ll keep searching.