Get several pairs of glasses-some prescription, some sunglasses. Let each child look at the same object through a different set of glasses. One might say it's blurry, dark, blue-tinted, or clear, all depending on what glasses he or she is wearing. Explain that the differences in what they see represent the different ways people see things in life. Let them trade glasses to get an idea of seeing something the way someone else sees it.

Prepare a "taste" platter with a number of different items of food on it. Let everyone taste each item. Compare responses, and talk about how some people may really love a particular food, such as sour pickles, that others find distasteful or bitter. Point out how this is symbolic of how differently people experience life, and explain how important it is for all of us to really understand how other people may experience things differently than we do.

Visit an older family member or friend and ask him or her to share an experience from the past with your children. After the visit, share any information you have that would increase your children's understanding of what things were like when that person was younger. "Did you know that Mr. Jacobs used to be a tall, good-looking policeman?" "Mrs. Smith was once a schoolteacher and all the kids loved her." "Grandmother was known as the best pie-maker in town." Talk about how knowledge and understanding of people help you see them more clearly.

Invite to your house people who have something to share-a musical talent, a recent trip, or an interesting experience. Talk about how much we can learn from listening to and understanding others.

Commit to be a more understanding family by listening better and being more observant. Teach your children to listen-not just with their ears, but also with their eyes, mind, and heart.

Play "mood charades." Ask children to demonstrate a mood such as anger, sadness, happiness, or disappointment, and let the rest of the family guess what they're feeling. Point out that you can learn a lot about others by simply watching their faces and body movements.

HABIT 6.

SYNERGIZE.

A friend of mine shared an insightful experience he had with his son. As you read it, think about what you might have done in his situation.

After one week of practice, my son told me that he wanted to quit the high school basketball team. I told him that if he quit basketball, he would just keep quitting things all of his life. I told him how I had wanted to quit things when I was young, but I didn't, and that made a dramatic difference in my life. I also told him that all our other sons had been basketball players and that the hard work and cooperation involved in being on the team helped them all. I was confident it would help him, too.

My son didn't seem to want to understand me at all. With choked emotion he replied, "Dad, I'm not my brothers. I'm not a good player. I'm tired of being harassed by the coach. I have other interests besides basketball."

I was so upset that I walked away.

For the next two days I felt frustrated each time I thought of this son's foolish and irresponsible decision. I had a fairly good relationship with him, but it upset me to think that he cared so little about my feelings in this matter. Several times I tried to talk to him, but he simply would not listen.

Finally, I began to wonder just what had led him to make the decision to quit. I determined to find out. At first he didn't even want to talk about it, so I asked him about other things. He would answer "yes" or "no" to my small talk, but he wouldn't say any more than that. After some time he began to get teary-eyed, and he said, "Dad, I know you think you understand me, but you don't. No one knows how rotten I feel."

I replied, "Pretty tough, huh?"

"I'll say it's tough! Sometimes I don't even know if it's all worth it."

He then poured his heart out. He told me many things I had not known before. He expressed his pain at constantly being compared to his brothers. He said his coach expected him to play ball as well as his brothers. He felt that if he went down a different path and blazed a new trail, the comparisons might end. He said he felt I favored his brothers because they brought me more glory than he could. He also told me about the insecurities he felt-not only in basketball but in all areas of his life. And he said he felt that he and I had somehow lost touch with each other.

I have to admit that his words humbled me. I had the feeling that what he said about the comparisons with his brothers was true and that I was guilty. I acknowledged my sorrow to him and-with much emotion-apologized. But I also told him that I still thought he would benefit greatly from playing ball. I told him that the family and I could work together to make things better for him if he wanted to play. He listened with patience and understanding, but he would not budge from his decision to quit the team.

Finally, I asked him if he liked basketball. He said he loved basketball but disliked all the pressure associated with playing for the high school team. As we talked, he said that what he would really like to do was play for the church team. He explained that he just wanted to have fun playing, not try to conquer the world. As he talked, I found myself feeling good about what he was saying. I admit I still felt a little disappointed that he wouldn't be on the school team, but I was glad that at least he still wanted to play.

He started telling me the names of the guys on the church team, and as he talked, I could sense his excitement and interest. I asked him when the church team played games so that I could attend. He told me he wasn't sure, and then he added, "But we need to get a coach or they won't even let us play at all."

At that point, almost by magic, something shot between us. A new idea came into both of our minds at the same time. Almost in unison we said, "I/You could coach the church team!"

All of a sudden my heart felt light as I thought about how much fun it would be to coach the team and have my son as one of the players.

The weeks that followed were among the happiest of my athletic experiences. And they provided some of my most memorable experiences as a father. Our team played for the sheer joy of playing. Oh, sure, we wanted to win and we did get a few victories, but no one was under pressure. And my son-who had hated to have the high school coach shout at him-would beam each time I would shout, "Way to go, son! Way to go! Good shot, son! Nice pass!"

That basketball season transformed the relationship between my son and me.

This story captures the essence of Habit 6-synergy-and of the Habits 4, 5, and 6 process that creates it.

Notice how this father and son at first seemed to be locked in a win-lose situation. The father wanted his son to play ball. His motives were good. He thought that playing ball would be a long-term win for his son. But the son felt differently. Playing high school ball wasn't a win for him; it was a lose. He was always being compared to his brothers. He didn't like dealing with the pressure. It seemed to be "your way" or "my way." Whatever decision was made, someone was going to lose.

But then this father made an important shift in his thinking. He sought to understand why this wasn't a win for his son. As they talked, they were able to get past the positioning and into the real issues. Together they came up with a better way, an entirely new solution that was a win for both. And that's what synergy is all about.

Synergy-the Summum Bonum of All the Habits

Synergy is the summum bonum-the supreme or highest fruit-of all the habits. It's the magic that happens when one plus one equals three-or more. And it happens because the relationship between the parts is a part itself. It has such catalytic, dynamic power that it affects how the parts interact with one another. It comes out of the spirit of mutual respect (win-win) and mutual understanding in producing something new-not in compromising or meeting halfway.

A great way to understand synergy is through the metaphor of the body. The body is more than just hands and arms and legs and feet and brain and stomach and heart all thrown together. It's a miraculous, synergistic whole that can do many wonderful things because of the way the individual parts work together. Two hands, for example, can do far more together than both hands can do separately. Two eyes working together can see more clearly, with greater depth perception, than two eyes working separately. Two ears working together can tell sound direction, which is not the case with two unconnected ears. The whole body can do far more than all the individual parts could do on their own, added up but unconnected.

So synergy deals with the part between the parts. In the family, this part is the quality and nature of the relationship between people. As a husband and wife interact, or as parents interact with children, synergy lies in the relationship between them. That's where the creative mind is-the new mind that produces the new option, the third alternative.

You might even think of this part as a third person. The feeling of "we" in a marriage becomes more than two people; it's the relationship between the two people that creates this third "person." And the same is true with parents and children. The other "person" created by the relationship is the essence of the family culture with its deeply established purpose and principle-centered value system.

In synergy, then, you have not only mutual vulnerability and the creation of shared vision and values, new solutions, and better alternatives, but you also have a sense of mutual accountability to the norms and values built into those creations. Again, this is what puts moral or ethical authority into the culture. It encourages people to be more honest, to speak with more candor, and to have the courage to deal with the tougher issues rather than trying to escape or ignore them or avoid being with people so as to minimize the likelihood of having to deal with such issues.

This "third person" becomes something of a higher authority, something that embodies the collective conscience, the shared vision and values, the social mores and norms of the culture. It keeps people from being unethical or power hungry, or from borrowing strength from position or credentials or educational attainment or gender. And as long as people live with regard to this higher authority, they see things such as position, power, prestige, money, and status as part of their "stewardship"-something they are entrusted with, responsible for, accountable for. But when people do not live in accordance with this higher authority and become a law unto themselves, this sense of a "third person" disintegrates. People become alienated, wrapped up in ownership and self-focus. The culture becomes independent rather than interdependent, and the magic of synergy is gone.

The key ultimately lies in the moral authority of the culture-to which everyone is accountable.

Synergy Is Risky Business

Because it's stepping out into the unknown, the process of creating synergy can sometimes be near chaos. The "end in mind" you begin with is not your end, your solution. It's moving from the known to the unknown and creating something entirely new. And it's building relationships and capacity in the process. So you don't go into the situation seeking your own way. You go in not knowing what's going to come out of it, but knowing that it's going to be a lot better than anything you brought into it.

And this is risky business-an adventure. This is the magic moment of mutual vulnerability. You don't know what's going to happen. You're at risk.

This is why the first three habits are so foundational. They enable you to develop the internal security that gives you the courage to live with this kind of risk. As paradoxical as it sounds, it takes a great deal of confidence to be humble. It takes a great deal of internal security to afford the risk of being vulnerable. But when people have the confidence and the kind of principle-based internal security that gives birth to humility and vulnerability, they then cease being a law unto themselves. Instead, they become conduits of exchanging insights. And in that very exchange is the dynamic that unleashes creative powers.

Truly, nothing is more exciting and bonding in relationships than creating together. And Habits 4 and 5 give you the mind-set and the skill-set to do it. You have to think win-win. You have to seek first to understand and then to be understood. In a sense you have to learn to listen with the third ear to create the third mind and the third alternative; in other words, you have to listen heart to heart in genuine respect and empathy. You have to reach the point where both parties are open to influence, teachable, humble, and vulnerable before the third mind that is the part between the two minds can become creative and produce alternatives and options that neither had considered initially. This level of interdependence requires two independent persons who recognize the interdependent nature of the circumstance, issue, problem, or need so that they can choose to exercise those interdependent muscles that enable synergy to happen.

Truly, Habit 6 is the summum bonum of all the habits. It's not transactional cooperation where one plus one equals two. It's not compromise cooperation where one plus one equals one and a half. And it's not adversarial communication or negative synergy where more than half the energy is spent in fighting and defending so that one plus one equals less than one.

Synergy is a situation in which one plus one equals at least three. It is the highest, most productive and satisfying level of human interdependence. It represents the ultimate fruit on the tree. And there is no way to get that fruit unless the tree has been planted and nurtured and becomes mature enough to produce it.

The Key to Synergy: Celebrate the Difference

The key to creating synergy is in learning to value-even celebrate-the difference. Going back to the metaphor of the body, if the body were all hands or all heart or all feet, it could never work the way it does. The very differences enable it to accomplish so much.

A member of our extended family shared this powerful story of how she came to value the difference between her and her daughter: When I turned eleven, my parents gave me a beautiful edition of a great classic. I read those pages lovingly, and when I turned the last one, I wept. I had lived through them.

Carefully, I kept the book for years, waiting to give it to my own daughter. When Cathy was eleven, I presented the book to her. Very pleased by her gift, she struggled through the first two chapters, then deposited it on her shelf where it remained unopened for months. I was deeply disappointed.

For some reason I had always supposed that my daughter would be like me, that she would like to read the same books I read as a girl, that she would have a temperament somewhat similar to mine, and that she would like what I liked.

"Cathy is a charming, bubbly, quick-to-laugh, slightly mischievous girl," her teachers told me. "She's fun to be around," said her friends. "She's excited about life, quick to seek humor everywhere, a sensitive soul," said her father.

"This is really hard for me," I said to my husband one day. "Her interminable zest for activities, her insatiable desire to 'play,' her ever-bubbling laughing and joking, are overwhelming to me. I've never been like that."

Reading had been the singular joy of my preteen years. In my mind I knew I was wrong to be disappointed in the difference between us, but in the recesses of my heart I was. Cathy was something of an enigma to me, and I resented it.

Those unspoken feelings pass quickly to a child. I knew she would sense them and they would hurt her, if they hadn't already. I agonized that I could be so uncharitable. I knew my disappointment was senseless, but as dearly as I loved this child, it did not change my heart.

Night after night when all were sleeping and the house was dark and quiet, I prayed for understanding. Then as I lay in bed one morning, very early, something happened. Quickly passing through my mind, in just seconds, I saw a picture of Cathy as an adult. We were two adult women, arms linked, smiling at each other. I thought of my own sister and how different we were. Yet I would never have wished that she be like me. I realized that Cathy and I would both be adults someday, just like my sister and me. And dearest friends do not have to be alike.

The words came to mind, "How dare you try to impose your personality on her. Rejoice in your differences!" Although it lasted but seconds, this flash, this reawakening, changed my heart when nothing else could.

My thankfulness, my gratitude, was renewed. And my relationship with my daughter took on a whole new dimension of richness and joy.

Notice how initially this woman assumed that her daughter would be like her. Notice how this assumption caused her frustration and blinded her to her daughter's precious uniqueness. Only when she learned how to accept her daughter as she was and to rejoice in their differences was she able to create the rich, full relationship she wanted to have.

And this is the case in every relationship in the family.

One day I was presenting a seminar dealing with right and left brain differences to a company in Orlando, Florida. I called the seminar "Manage from the Left, Lead from the Right." During the break, the president of the company came up to me and said, "Stephen, this is intriguing, but I have been thinking about this material more in terms of its application to my marriage than to my business. My wife and I have a real communication problem. I wonder if you would have lunch with the two of us and just kind of watch how we talk to each other."

"Let's do it," I replied.

As the three of us sat down together, we exchanged a few pleasantries. Then this man turned to his wife and said, "Now, honey, I've invited Stephen to have lunch with us to see if he can help us in our communication with each other. I know you feel I should be a more sensitive, considerate husband. Can you give me something specific you think I ought to do?" His dominant left brain wanted facts, figures, specifics, parts.

"Well, as I've told you before, it's nothing specific. It's more of a general sense I have about priorities." Her dominant right brain was dealing with sensing and with the gestalt, the whole, the relationship between the parts.

"What do you mean, 'a general sense about priorities'? What is it you want me to do? Give me something specific that I can get a handle on."

"Well, it's just a feeling." Her right brain was dealing in images, intuitive feelings. "I just don't think our marriage is as important to you as you tell me it is."

"What can I do to make it more important? Give me something concrete and specific to go on."

"It's hard to put into words."

At that point, he just rolled his eyes and looked at me as if to say, Stephen, could you endure this kind of dumbness in your marriage?

"It's just a feeling," she said, "a very strong feeling."

"Honey," he said to her, "that's your problem. And that's the problem with your mother. In fact, it's the problem with every woman I know."

Then he began to interrogate her as though it were some kind of legal deposition.

"Do you live where you want to live?"

"That's not it," she said with a sigh. "That's not it at all."

"I know," he replied with forced patience. "But since you won't tell me exactly what it is, I figure the best way to find out what it is, is to find out what it is not. Do you live where you want to live?"

"I guess."

"Honey, Stephen's here for just a few minutes to try to help us. Just give me a quick 'yes' or 'no' answer. Do you live where you want to live?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that's settled. Do you have the things you want to have?"

"Yes."

"All right. Do you do the things you want to do?"

This went on for a little while, and I could see I wasn't helping at all, so I intervened and said, "Is this kind of how it goes in your relationship?"

"Every day, Stephen," he replied.

"It's the story of our marriage," she said.

I looked at the two of them, and the thought crossed my mind that they were two half-brained people living together. "Do you have any children?" I asked.

"Yes, two."