The Infinity of Processes; the Limitation of Things

I'm writing to you from sunny Iceland. (In case you're wondering what Iceland is like, imagine that a spaceship full of friendly Nordic hipsters had landed on a planet, and they were only partway through terraforming it.) Today I'm going to ask you to do something very brave, and very powerful. I want you to believe that you'll never run out of good ideas.

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On the face of it, that sounds obvious. Of course you're never going to run out of ideas, in the same way that you're never going to say, "Right! I have now officially done everything. I have literally cleaned All The Things." But there is an instinct which kicks in every now and then, the instinct of scarcity, which goes like this: ideas are precious. Precious things are scarce. Scarce things need to be hoarded.

No! No! No!

Sure, we are surrounded by things that can run out if we over-use them. Biscuits, petrol, goodwill, rainforests… a lot of things do run out eventually, so it’s natural to worry about exhausting them. But sometimes we worry about exhausting things which can never run out. And that’s completely crazy, because the best way to run out of ideas is to try to suppress yourself from saying them out loud, acting on them, having them in the first place.

The more that you let yourself have ideas, the more ideas you’ll have.

You don’t run out of things like that. It may be tempting to imagine yourself as some kind of glorious urn filled with idea emeralds, and every so often, a shining idea plops out of you, leaving you with fewer shimmering green ideas to express in the future. But that leaves you wanting to hold on to your ideas, only reserving them for special occasions, or for people you want to impress. A better analogy would be that you are a raging river of ideas trying to get past a dam, and the more you express your ideas, the more you poke holes in that dam.

That's because ideas are processes, not materials.

Materials can run out. Processes becomes stronger the more they are used.

If we treat processes as if they need to be hoarded, they may wither.

As much as I know this to be true, I still find myself slipping occasionally, so I'm guessing you do too. If you hear yourself say any of the following, think about whether you are trying to mistakenly conserve an infinite process.

"Let's get this done before my luck runs out."

Whoa! Luck is a process, not a thing. The more you use it, the stronger it gets.

(If that sounds too "magical" then let me point out that the luck I'm referring to is a mixture of hard work, creativity, good timing, careful planning, ingenuity, seeing the beauty in things, being pleasant, having wonderful friends, and having a sense of humour).

"It's only a rehearsal (or practice). Save the good stuff for the actual show (or game)."

If you use training time to do mediocre work, you will train yourself to do mediocre work.

"Oh dear, a dinner party, and I'm not a good conversationalist. I'll eke out my interesting stories throughout the night, so I still have something to say by the end."

Interesting talk stimulates further interesting talk (actually so does interested listening). Don't feel pressured to blurt out all your major news immediately - unless it's crucial and riveting - but definitely don't pressure yourself to hold back.

"I don't have the energy to be energetic."

Finally, please remember that movement is a process. Whether it's running, dancing, playing sport, swimming, the more you use your body, the easier it gets and the more joyous it is. The more we say, "I'm too tired," the harder we find it next time.

Ok I'm off to enjoy a fjord. 

Be well,

Sean

The Truth & Untruth of Stories

Stories are incredibly powerful. We hunger for an unfolding plot just like we crave a delicious meal: we read articles, watch dramas, play games, listen to our friends’ stories of their trip to South America. We are filled with a sense of peace when a gripping tale comes to a satisfying conclusion. In stories, events are meaningful. They play out according to human principles such as love, or fate, or justice. In stories, we do not live in a blind, uncaring universe.

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The Truth of Stories

Humans try to make real life obey story rules.
And… you live in a world that’s largely created by humans.
So… story rules apply to you. You are in a story.

Actually, you are in a lot of stories, and you probably play a lot of different roles. If you can identify what type of character you’re playing in the story of your life, you can find ways to make it work for you… or you can decide to change it. I have had periods in my life where I wished I was more fit: I was playing the part of the wishful thinker. So I exercised occasionally. I've also had periods in my life where, in my head, I was the hard-core athlete. That guy would get out of bed early on a winter morning and go running in the grey rain. There were no excuses for that character. If I'm being true to my role as "athletic person", I get up, I run.*

This may sound like a metaphor, but it isn't. People facing tricky choices genuinely do ask themselves, “What would a person like me do in this situation?” It's subtly different, and subtly more powerful than simply asking "What on earth should I do?"  This is great! (As long as we choose to be heroes rather than villains). Stories can affirm our ideals, our values, our strengths.

The Untruth of Stories

But we can also fall into the trap of using stories to justify morally ambiguous choices. “This terrible event happened to him because he did something to deserve it,” is a story which absolves us of compassion. “People know how much self-sacrifice I make in order to get things done, so they forgive me for being cranky or absent.” That’s another dangerous story.

I won’t even go into the danger of stories based on stereotypes.

There are short phrases called aphorisms (like “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks”, or “you’re never too old to learn”) which act like mini-stories. When we’re racking our brains for wisdom, it can be tempting to look to these mini-stories for guidance. But aphorisms don’t contain cosmic truths. They’re just a shorthand story: useful to get an idea across easily. You can always find an aphorism that represents exactly the opposite idea if you like. Aphorisms are dangerous if we use them to justify poor or hasty judgments. Cheating with stories is no way to make an important decision – you've got to use better powers than that.

In summary, you are a real person – you live in the real world. You’re also a fictional character: you live inside stories. How satisfying it is, and how sensible, to learn the rules of both.

* I have also had periods in my life when I was the character who ate all the tim tams.

Creating a Climate of Creativity

A few weeks ago, I gave a talk at Clever Happenings, which is a think tank / sharing of good ideas / chance to sit in a room basking in the glorious glow of other smart & effective people. It's run by Dr Jason Fox and I highly recommend it.

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I was asked by Theresa, one of the lovely people there, for suggestions to foster creativity in her team, and I've given her my personal view of the short answer. Here, dear subscribers, is my version of the long answer.

To get our attention, an idea has to surprise, and that requires a creative approach. Of the dozens of strategies I've used for encouraging creativity, I'm going to concentrate on the three tips which I believe are the most fundamental and/or the most consistently effective.

Embrace the imperfect

Years ago when I was doing some clown training, I expressed frustration at how often I had to retrieve my juggling balls from the floor. My instructor shared a piece of ancient clown-wisdom. “If you aren't dropping the balls, you aren't taking risks. If you aren't taking risks, you aren't trying. If you aren't trying, you aren't learning. And if you aren't learning, why are you juggling?” I choose to believe that this advice was handed down from some mystic elder clown to a group of jugglers on a mist-shrouded mountain one day (and that he or she was more succinct).

In order to experiment, learn, and discover unusual ways of doing things, you have to be willing to screw it all up. And I don’t just mean “develop a steely will-power, so that when things go wrong, you barely flinch”. I mean: Develop a sense of excitement and pride at failing. Excitement, because failure brings unique insights; and pride, because only brave people fail. People don’t necessarily learn more from their mistakes than their successes, but they certainly expose themselves to learning different things, often surprising things.

When an idea doesn't work out, I urge you to develop a small ritual that celebrates that fact. You need to express happiness, approval, confidence, and gratitude, and do it with genuineness because there are so many other forces that work to destroy people’s confidence when their ideas crash. Doing this will eventually lead to much more creative work, because when people are happy, they will be more confident to plunge into the next project, they’ll be more confident to continue to think outside the box, and they will be more confident to reflect on what went well as well as what didn't.

Because every good idea will have patchy elements, and every bad idea will have potential gems, at least the first time around. Whenever you can, re-examine and re-draft your work. It’s such a powerful tool. What a waste it would be if a whole idea were thrown out without doing this.

Step Outside Your Circle

We all have favourite authors, preferred café spots, and opinions we are comfortable with. In fact, one of the dangers of using social media is that you can create a personal echo chamber, where only people who share your own worldview are represented. It’s very validating, but it’s a narrow world to live in!

Your brain will create its own ideas, and it will also generate them from all the news you listen to, movies you watch, conversations you have, dreams you recall, and things you mis-hear on a tram. If you find yourself re-hashing the same sorts of ideas, it’s time to step outside of your comfort zone. Find an area you know nothing about. The ocean of interesting information you have at your fingertips is a fantastic resource, and if you explore it, it will open up new areas of creativity. It will feel a little bit hard, like learning a new language (in fact: do that) but that’s what change and growth feel like.

If you have a group of people who are working on different creative projects, then they will all have their own favourite influences – which they should share with each other – and for that matter, seeing how someone from another organisation approaches the same problems that you do is a surprisingly obvious and surprisingly under-utilised resource. 

Impose Arbitrary Restrictions

This suggestion may sound a little strange. If you’re struggling to create something, why would you make it harder for yourself? Paradoxically, this has been shown to allow your brain to focus. Do a little thought experiment for me. You have been asked to write a brief message in a card for a colleague of yours who is leaving your workplace. You know that this person is pleasant, but you can’t honestly think of anything specific about them, and your own interactions have been minimal. However, it would be unthinkable for you to decline to write something. It’s hard to come up with something in this situation. What if you imposed on yourself the requirement that you had to write it as a haiku? Or that you used maritime metaphors? Or no adjectives? Suddenly it’s a challenge, and that re-engages your attention.

Similarly, you can impose particular constraints on your creative work. But this requires some thought. The constraints should be meaningful, they should build skills, and they should enhance the quality of the work. By meaningful, I mean that the constraint should actually make an impact on the work. “Do high quality work” is not a meaningful constraint. “Use only two colours, neither of which is black or white” is meaningful. The constraints should encourage skills by tapping into things you’d like to learn more about and that could come up in future projects. And the constraints shouldn't be inherently destructive to good work. Really, you want a sweet balance of freedom and constraint.

One constraint that is often imposed is that of the deadline, and it is both a meaningful and a practical constraint, but it’s one that we’re so accustomed to that it often fails to inspire people.

A word of warning regarding constraints. If the participants feel that the constraint is “silly” then they tend to disengage. It’s a shame, because often the most unexpected constraints are the ones which get people to look at the world in completely new ways. Students are usually willing to embrace ideas despite being unsure of the principle behind them – at least they will if the teacher has earned their trust. If you’re trying this technique with concrete, serious-minded people, you will have to coax them over to this idea gently.

I hope this sparks some ideas!

Sean