On not knowing and not blogging

2015-02-22 09.48.57I’m enjoying Not Knowing, an interesting book by Steven D’Souza and Diana Renner. It’s got some great quotes and sound bites – I really like the one pictured, about the shadow created by knowledge. They do a good job of naming all the difficult emotions that come with not knowing, and especially with feeling that we ought to know, or need to fake knowledge to maintain our status.

Yet some of the most interesting things happen at the boundaries of our knowledge.. the region they call Finisterre, where the land gives way to the ocean.

I made a promise to myself not to do much “blogging about blogging” but I’ll make an exception today. I notice I’ve fallen almost completely silent on this blog for the last few weeks. It wasn’t a policy decision, but I think I’ve been through a period of not feeling I want to put too much in words. The internet is awash with words and information, I get a bit weary of it and I’m not sure I want to keep adding to the excess.

There’s more aliveness in the space at the edge of the known. When I slip into a “teacher trance” this easily diminishes the energy of groups. Now there’s money to be made in the repacking and retailing of the known, in playing the expert. Divesting yourself of that mantle is to risk being naked. With all the associated risks and excitements, I guess.

Horcruxes

In the Harry Potter series, Voldemort attempts to attain immortality by creating horcruxes. He splits off a fragment of his soul and stores it in an object or person. The idea is that he can be reconstituted from a horcrux in the event of his death.

In the real world, I think we’re often tempted to create horcruxes of our own. We take our ideas, desires and qualities, and invest them in things. Houses, cars, relationships, ideas.  We don’t notice that by investing in them, we sort of split off a part of ourselves and give it to an object.

I think one of the biggest horcruxes I ever made was a Mercedes Roadster. This was at a time when I was earning big bucks in advertising and I was especially prone to believing in marketing mythology. I imagined if I bought this hot car, I’d be driving to the French riviera every weekend. When I bought the car, what actually happened was I slept very badly for three months, worrying if someone was going to jealousy-scratch it outside my flat.

We can make horcruxes out of anything. Facilitators easily make them out of their favoured processes. We need to watch out for what we lose when we do this.

Idea Zoos vs Idea Habitats

Thinking some more about my previous post, and this common metaphor of “capturing” ideas and knowledge.

It makes me think of how wild animals are captured and put in zoos. The desire to provide the public with an amusing spectacle sits uneasily with claims about protection and preservation. Same with capturing ideas in brainstorms… are we really trying to protect and support these ideas, or are we really trying to keep other people reassured and entertained?

Maintaining the natural habitat for species is more challenging and doesn’t provide as much short term gratification. Similarly, supporting the kind of working relationships in which ideas naturally flourish is much more challenging to hierarchical organisations than creating brainstorms and innovation incubators and hubs. The urge to have something organised, and centralised may distract us from what really allows ideas to flourish.

Capture

What if we focus on the ideas that are so sticky, they don’t need a post-it note?

How often do we leave meetings where the walls are festooned with post-its? But do we really believe they are the sign of real productivity?

If we let go of this urgent need to “capture” knowledge, would we perhaps notice some more interesting things that are going on?

Messiness or order?

I found this after seeing a similar clip on Facebook. I find it mesmerising.

There are times when I see only a mess, and then you see order. The transitions can be breathtaking. When I watch it again, I seem to see more patterns and less mess. Feels like a metaphor for a lot of the best kinds of meetings. At the time they are often frustrating just before they become interesting. And with hindsight bias, we see less mess any more order.

Maybe it’s all order, all the way down?

Thanks to Anne McCrossan for helping me find a clip outside Facebook.

Emotions

Shawn Callahan sometimes shares this little video clip with people, without much preamble, and then asks them what they see happening:

OK, most people ascribe human emotions and actions to the shapes. They say things like, “the big triangle was bullying the little triangle and the circle but the little triangle saved the circle.” Or they will ascribe roles to the shapes saying things like “the father didn’t like the boyfriend but despite being pushed away the boyfriend still went out with the girl and the father was angry.”

We like to tell ourselves a story to explain what’s happening rather than merely say they are geometric shapes moving on a two-dimensional plane. And because we tell ourselves a story we feel emotions as the story unfolds. And depending on our surroundings, we will verbalise these emotions.

I love this. It falls into my celery stick collection: At school, I wasn’t much good at biology (the room smelt funny, for one thing). But I remember the experiment where we put a stick of celery into a dish of blue dye. And watched the dye get sucked up by the celery, thereby revealing the mysteries of capillary action. Shawn’s experiment really shows at a fundamental level how emotion and storytelling influence how we understand the world. Reason and emotion are bound together.

Shawn also goes onto to suggest that a byproduct of his experiment is that it gives him a clue about the level of fear among the group he is working with.

Hat tip: Nancy White pointed me to this post. I should have been reading Shawn’s blog anyway!

Playing with reluctance

Many of friends will admit they used to think of me as a brain-on-a-stick. And I certainly used to be one of those folks who acted as if my body was mostly just a device to carrying my brain around, allowing it to get on with the serious business of thinking.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve been making concerted efforts to pay more attention to the stick, treat it better, use it more actively and increase its flexibility. Yoga, swimming, cycling, strength training… that kind of thing.

Among the benefits is that the quality of my thinking has improved quite a bit as I start to get more of idea of what embodied intelligence is.

And it’s also been really useful to me as someone who sometimes gets to lead groups and train people. Because I am in a regular practice of learning to do things in other people’s classes – often doing stuff I spent a large part of my life avoiding and generally feeling very unconfident about.

Although I’m pretty motivated and clear about the benefits, I still often find myself in things like yoga feeling reluctant. When I’m trying find that extra bit of stretch in the hams, part of me wants to give up. And then I might find myself thinking: “This is too hard. This is fine for people who are flexible but what’s the point for someone like me? Maybe I’ll just go through the motions. Maybe I should stop doing this class.” I can really feel the inner resistance, the vestiges of fear and shame inculcated by years of the ludicrously mistitled “physical education” i.e. ritual humiliation inflicted on me in school.

Mostly I catch this happening and move my focus. Basically that involves letting go of comparisons and aiming to operate just at the edge of, and not outside, my comfort zone. Finding the position that is actually a stretch, not based on some mental model of how I am or how the world is, but what I’m actually feeling in my body.

So for me, among the many benefits of yoga is the countless opportunities it gives me to encounter my own reluctance. I hope this gives me more perspective when training/facilitating others and sensing their reluctance is kicking in.

And it gives me this idea of being willing to play with reluctance. That’s partly about accepting that doing challenging things is going to trigger reluctance and being somewhat compassionate about it. And then finding a way to keep trying, even when it’s feeling hard.

Contempt

I’ve been paying more attention to contempt recently. Noticing others expressing it, often in small ways, and catching it in myself.

So this article about the work of John Gottman caught my eye. It gives chapter and verse on his work showing how contempt is strongly correlated with the failure of relationships.

On one level, this isn’t so surprising – as many people exclaim in the comments to that article, often contemptuously.

Contempt often gives the person expressing it short-term satisfaction, but at considerable cost to relationship and long-term satisfaction. Contempt can be addictive.

I’m especially interested in “micro-contempt”: the small signs of contempt that we exhibit, either without realising, or thinking we’ve got away with it. Often though, we don’t get away with it: the other person picks up the contempt and responds in kind.

And this tit-for-tat will tend to escalate: we tend to underestimate the impact of the insults we deliver… but we feel the impact of those we receive more strongly. This can lead to vicious circle of escalation (See this post on how this happens in physical fights)

It’s quite the challenge, I reckon, to create ways to respond to contempt that aren’t themselves contemptuous. We can probably articulate theories about how to do it, but I suspect what’s really needed is practice. In my case, lifelong practice!

News as sugar…

Alejandra Quintero suggests that the news is bad for us, quoting Ralf Dobelli:

“The fortunate among us have recognized the hazards of living with an overabundance of food and have started to shift our diets. But most of us do not yet understand that news is to the mind what sugar is to the body.”

I tend to agree. I was then really struck by this graphic…

network3

..and her suggestion that too much news leaves us informed but not knowledgeable. Knowledge is relational, and a lot of news coverage feels atomising.

It also reminded me of this little diagram:

This originated at the Rand Corporation. They are thinking of energy grids, but it carries over to other networks. I apply it to meetings, where people often stick to A or B and avoid C, but C can often be the most engaging because it’s more human and more relational – though easily dismissed as mere gossip by those who prefer a more hierarchical form.

Neurononsense

I don’t think I’ve ever linked to the Weekly Standard before, but this debunking of the overplaying of neuroscience is a good read. (I’m overlooking the anti-liberal dig at the end).

I tend to agree with the takedown of “learning styles” which don’t seem that well-rooted in science and tend to encourage wooden leg thinking. I also quite enjoyed the snark against the word “workshop” even though I’m as guilty as most in using it.

Hat tip: Stephanie West Allen