Discipline makes Daring possible.

Greeding

Greeding

When, as kids, we had scoffed our own sweetie allowance, and wanted more, we’d have a go at appropriating the shares of our younger siblings.  This rarely took the form of outright theft.   We knew that was wrong.   So we’d find other less obvious ways to achieve the same result.

We cajoled, we pleaded, we promised swaps.  When that failed we bullied.

My parents called this behaviour ‘greeding’ – manipulating others into giving up their share, so you can have more.

We grew out of it, but it feels like an awful lot of greeding goes on in the grown-up world – beyond the obvious thefts, ponzi schemes and cons.

Banks put small businesses into debt with ‘recovery programmes’, taking over their assets once they’ve gone bankrupt.   Firms force individuals to sell their homes for needed healthcare, raid pension funds to pay private equity loans.

Seed companies patent f1 hybrid seeds, forcing small farmers around the world into destitution.    Soft drinks manufacturers negotiate first call on local water supplies, leaving ordinary people to pay more for less.

Manufacturers shut their eyes to child labour, slavery, invasion and habitat destruction in their supply-chains.

All so they can build up the means to do more of the same.

It’s called accumulation by dispossession.   It’s happened throughout human history, of course.  But not everywhere, not all the time.  For the last 500 years we’ve relied on a system that can’t work without it.

And that can only end in tears.

Imitiation or inspiration

Imitiation or inspiration

Over the long weekend, I had a good rummage through some of my quilting books.    It was interesting to come back to them after a gap of a few years as they’ve been in storage while we built the extension.

What struck me going through them now, was just how prescriptive some of the project instructions are – specifying exactly which fabrics to use – down to the manufacturer, designer, range and colourway – exactly how to cut the fabric up to get the required number of pieces,  and exactly how to sew them together to make a quilt top.  They are instructions for making a replica of a particular quilt.

I don’t know why, but I find this approach quite disturbing.  Perhaps because it feels like it isn’t really creative.   If I follow the instructions to the letter I’ll get a carbon copy of the quilt in the picture.  There’ll be nothing of me in it.   There’s no real learning in it either.  I learn to follow instructions to replicate a particular quilt, that’s it.

By contrast other books – generally the older ones, are quite freestyle – specifying only ‘light’ or ‘dark’ fabrics together with the number of different shapes needed – assuming that you know how to cut a square or a triangle (or that you’ll refer to the ‘how-to’ section at the beginning of the book).   Some even include pictures of different versions of the same patchwork pattern, so you can see how the look changes with different fabrics.   These are recipes for making a kind of quilt.  Recipes I am encouraged to make my own, right from the beginning.     I learn to think about colours and how they work together, I learn how to think about cutting.  Most importantly, I learn about my own taste.  I learn a process I can apply to different starting materials to generate my own unique results.

For me, the difference between these approaches shows the difference between workflow and process.   Workflow turns human beings into mindless replicators.  Process frees them to be creative.

Imitation or inspiration.    Which would you rather encourage in your team?

Stew

Stew

What’s the difference between a good stew and a great stew?

Time.

Sometimes, leaving things alone for several hours is the best thing you can do.   And as of course you know, the very best stews are tasted the day after you cooked them.

Time is an ingredient we frequently forget to add, and not just to our cooking.    If you’ve got something knotty you’re working hard on or thinking really deeply about, a long bank holiday weekend is an excellent opportunity to add time.

Over the next 3 days, let whatever it is do its thing.   Let it braise, brew, tenderise, meld.   By Tuesday you’ll find yourself with something really tasty.

Till then, enjoy the break.

Sunflower moments

Sunflower moments

“When van Gogh paints sunflowers, he reveals, or achieves, the vivid relation between himself, as man, and the sunflower, as sunflower, at that quick moment of time.

His painting does not represent the sunflower itself. We shall never know what the sunflower itself is. And the camera will visualize the sunflower far more perfectly than van Gogh can.

The vision on the canvas is a third thing, utterly intangible and inexplicable, the offspring of the sunflower itself and van Gogh himself.” D.H. Lawrence.

That ‘third thing’, the ‘vivid relation’ between ‘me’ and the other, is a moment when we feel truly alive, connected, aware of our place in the universe.  Such moments don’t only happen to artists.  I’ve experienced them while shopping, walking or making dinner.  The difference is I’ve never tried to capture them.

It seems to me that much of what we do as humans is about creating opportunities where those ‘sunflower moments’ – that you might also call Sawubona can happen.

What if that is what work was really for?

What if we measured our performance by that?

 

Look behind

Look behind

Queues are annoying, and rarely the fault of the individual dealing with the front of them.

Tutting because the person is serving someone else at the other end of the store may make you feel better, but it’s unfair.

Look behind your immediate experience to see what’s really going on – a single person is being expected to look after what is effectively 2 stores – the shop counter and the post office counter (3 if you count the coffee kiosk).  Despite Schrödinger’s dicoveries, at the macro level of human bodies, they can’t be in two places at once.

Tutting again because they’re not happy about the situation is even more unfair.

If you don’t like the customer experience you’re getting, complain to the people who designed the system.  And if it doesn’t improve things, vote with your feet.

The people behind these systems rely on us taking things out on the person in front of us.  Because that way we keep everything running just fine – for them.

Consumption is a vital part of the system we all live under.  Like everything else we do, we can do it mindfully, intentionally, and with the aim of making things better.

 

 

Cobbler’s children

Cobbler’s children

At the end of my road there lives a builder.  His house has been a mess for years.

I know commercial knitters who wear old jumpers out at elbow, and doctors who  smoke, drink and eat junk food.

As a business owner, it’s helpful to ask yourself – regularly if possible – ‘If I was my client, what would I be telling myself to do?’

Then follow your own advice, the way you’d expect a client to.

If nothing else, you’ll find out what it feels like to be your client.

Getting better

Getting better

At this morning’s Like Hearted Leaders, Ruth Polden made a beautiful point “We all think we have to do something well, and that puts us off starting. We can all do something, so why not do it? Not to be the best, or even good, but because we want to.”

Why justice must be blind.

Why justice must be blind.

I’m about halfway through John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice.  We’ve finally got to a statement of principles.  Which can be informally summed up as something like this:

“All social primary goods – liberty and opportunity, income and wealth, and the bases of self-respect – are to be distributed equally unless an unequal distribution of any or all of these goods is to the advantage of the least favoured.”

That seems pretty obvious.   Why has it taken 300 pages to get to here?

Because imagining a just system is a process.

We don’t choose where or when we’re born.  We don’t choose our parents or our society or our status in that society.   We don’t choose the talents or abilities we’re born with – any more than we choose our eye colour or complement of limbs.   That’s all down to chance.

That doesn’t mean we have to accept what we’ve landed in.   We can imagine a different kind of setup.

But to do that justly, and end up with something fair, we need a starting point that takes chance out of it.  We have to take ourselves out of space and time, and imagine what we as individuals would accept if we didn’t know where we end up in the particular set-up we happen to be born in.  We have to make ourselves blind, and build our picture of a just system from there.

That takes a lot of thought and empathy with all our possible selves.

It’s worth the effort, because then we can start to shape our societies to move ever closer to that ideal.   Starting with what’s closest to us, our families and our businesses.

Desire lines

Desire lines

On my way to receive my second dose of the vaccine today, I used a well-worn but ‘unofficial’ route for part of my journey, at what is effectively an off-centre T-junction.

This desire-line shortened the distance by no more than 7 yards at most for people going in one direction.  Interestingly, there was no desire line going in the other direction.

Why is this?

Well, when the path was built, it was obviously more efficient to build it as a single path.  But using the path isn’t the same as building it.

For people going one way, the official path is close enough, even though it isn’t quite direct.   It feels like you’re going in the right direction.

For the other way though, the official path feels completely wrong.  You’re effectively going back on yourself before you can get in the rght direction.  So it makes perfect sense to cut the corner, even though it saves very little.

There’s a nice lesson here for designing processes of all kinds.    Obviously, you try and make the process as efficient as possible when you build it.   Then look out for the desire lines and reconfigure as appropriate.

Not all short-cuts are are the right thing to build in, but nobody should have to go backwards in order to move forwards.

News

News

A system of any kind survives through feedback.   What feels/sounds/smells/tastes/looks right.  Or wrong.   Or not particularly either way.   Feedback helps us to learn, evolve and interact safely with the world around us.  That means that getting good quality feedback about what’s actually going on is crucial.   In fact, much of what concerns us as business owners is how to gather feedback effectively and act on it appropriately.

Marketing isn’t feedback.  Although you can use it that way.   I don’t wear fashion, but I do like to know ‘what’s going on’.  A twice-yearly trawl through marketing materials – magazines, shop windows, a look at what’s around and at what people are actually wearing – keeps me up to date.

Social media isn’t feedback.  It’s marketing.  Increasingly it’s geared to tell us what we want to hear, to entrench us in our worldviews, intensify our outrage, because that keeps us on the platform, there to see the marketing that pays for it.

‘The news’ as we mostly know it isn’t really feedback either.  It’s also marketing.  Designed to sell a newspaper or a news channel, or a worldview.   And it gets more like social media every day.

But it could be feedback, if we wanted it to be.