There I was, a thousand feet above the valley floor on a tiny rock ledge; cold and wet and shivering.

My climbing partner, Sam, unfurled the rope that we’d be using to protect one another as we scaled the thousand feet of granite that towered above us. I pulled my climbing harness out of my pack and stepped into the leg loops. My puffy down jacket that had tumbled out with the harness looked especially appealing as the fog settled in around us. I pulled it on over my wet shirt. There was a candy bar in the jacket pocket. Damn if that was not a find; we’d been moving up this mountain since 5am and I was famished.

Sam set the anchor for the rope and then tied in. I put him on belay. He stepped off the ledge onto the sheer rock face and disappeared quickly into the mist.

Twenty minutes later I heard Sam call “I’m off belay.” And just a few moments later hear him yell, “you’re on belay, Walt,” signaling that it was safe for me to climb.

I repacked my pack, stepped off the ledge onto the wet rock face, and looked down at my harness.

It was open, unbuckled, dangling around my waist. I had never finished putting it on.

I looked down into the void beneath me. My head swirled.

The end flashed before me: falling the thousand feet to my death.

I steadied myself; stepped back onto the ledge; and took a deep breath. Carefully, I finished what I had started: buckling the harness that would keep me safe.

Inattention in the mountains can be fatal. It can have pretty bad consequences in business and in life as well.

Ours is a culture of overwhelm.

We’ve become addicted to the stimulation and outside input, checking and re-checking our smartphones and our tablets and our emails; responding incessantly to the phone calls and messages and notifications and alerts. Overwhelmed and inundated by the expectations and the deadlines and the demands, endeavoring to pay attention to everything and succeeding only at a continuous partial attention.

Partial attention is inattention in disguise.

When we’re not fully present, we’re scattered, error-prone and inefficient.

We dishonor our loved ones, our work and the people we serve.

We dishonor ourselves; and this gift that is our lives.

Steve Jobs of Apple fame once said that he was as proud of the 1000s of things he said no to as the few things he said yes to. “Learn to say ‘no’ to the good so you can say ‘yes’ to the best,” leadership expert John Maxwell teaches.

Be fully present in each and every moment; refuse to entertain the myth of multi-tasking; work tasks to completion.

Your focus is your superpower.

Doing fewer things well is the secret to sanity and success.

And, oh, don’t forget to buckle your harness.

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When you’re ready to claim your superpowers, email me: walt@walthampton.com