THE FAILED DANCE OF THE KNOW-IT-ALL AND THE PERIWINKLE

April 26th, 2018

Know-it-all’s make people feel that they are wrong. The know-it-all makes it very plain and obvious that other person’s mental map of the world is inaccurate. 

But the know-it-all is just trying to be helpful.

Trying to be helpful, but failing to help.

Why?

Not only does feedback imply that a person’s mental map is inaccurate but it also implies the need for further action to rectify the map. This requires subduing an emotional tie to our own grandiosity and certainty. Subduing the fact that we think we know what we know AND combating laziness that keeps us from taking the next action. This is heavy leg-work. Not easily undertaken. Especially if the emotional environment is one of defensiveness and uncomfortable vulnerability. 

How does the know-it-all come to be the know-it-all? Questions. The know-it-all is curious and asks questions. But when the know-it-all looks to share knowledge, the know-it-all forgets that the acquisition of such knowledge started with a questioning. Without a similar questioning in another person, such proffered knowledge can easily come across as offensive, annoying and even belittling. The know-it-all must foster questions, not simply deluge info.

The next time someone says something inaccurate. Can we pause before we try to correct someone?

Can we challenge ourselves with some questions:

What sort of question can I ask to help this person examine their own thoughts on the subject?

Is there a question I can ask that will help them get at the core of their feelings on the subject?

Perhaps what they find might be illuminating in an unexpected way?

Might that way be more welcoming to new information?

Then again, new information might not even be needed.

Questioning is a self-starting journey.

People are smarter and better than we give them credit for.

Often all they need is a better question. A better question to help them probe a subject on their own.

A natural defensive reaction to a show-off, holier-than-thou, know-it-all, definitely doesn't help someone on this journey. In fact it nearly guarantees that someone won't go on the curious journey that is needed.

{This is the reason for the "Backfire Effect" in psychology. The Backfire Effect is when people who are confronted with facts that directly contradict their beliefs become more certain of their original beliefs instead of becoming skeptical of their own accuracy. Logic would hold that facts contrary to beliefs would mean that the beliefs are somehow flawed and therefore must be improved or removed altogether. But this is not what happens. The emotional strain of coming across new information that implies a failure on our part shuts down a welcoming attitude in normal people.}

Can we start a culture of questions?

Can we challenge ourselves to find better questions?

Periwinkles are small marine snails. Any sudden movement will make that sucker clam up fast.

Any beach loving kid knows that you can’t force a periwinkle open. That’ll just kill it.

Those beach loving kids also know how to get a periwinkle to open up:

Patience and singing. 

Might the change that we are looking to make in others be like our periwinkle? 

Elusive and easily startled?

Might it be better to first help someone feel comfortable?

Might our message be aided by a comfortable and curious ear?

Confrontation creates defense. 

Defense is another way of saying fear.

Fear is the killer of curiosity.

Therefore.

Might a blunt message create confrontation? 

Might a confrontation create a defensive posture? 

Might the fear behind that defensive posture kill the very curiosity we need for our message to succeed?

Might the know-it-all in all of us be aided by a thoughtful pause and a kind and generous consideration of the people we wish to help by correcting? 

The intention is to help. 

But have we examined the way we try to help?

Can our good intention be honored by a more thoughtful method?

Has the alternative ever really worked anyway?

PRIORITIES

April 25th, 2018

Most likely: Your priorities are not what you tell other people. Your priorities are not what you tell yourself. Your priorities are not what you hope.

There’s a simple way to test this out.

Write out your ideal priority list.

Go ahead. Do it.

Now.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

Is that list what you do on a daily, weekly, monthly basis?

If the answer is yes, then bravo. You are an exceptional human.

If not. Then some reflection is in order. Your actions reveal what you prioritize. Whether you like it or not, this is how you are spending the precious little time we are all given. Time is your most valuable resource. Way more valuable than money. Why? Time is non-renewable. It's valuable beyond comprehension. (but we gotta try to comprehend..)

What you spend that precious time doing indicates what your priorities have become.

Some of that precious time might be well spent contemplating a reorganization. Of your habits, commitments, work, your life.

Ignore the disconnect? Reason it away?

That’s denial.

ALAZIA

April 24th, 2018

Alazia is the fear that one can no longer change.

It’s a fear. Not a fact.

An ingenious fear as far as concepts that can take a deep viral root in the brain go, since, the fear is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Fear makes one less likely to attempt actions that contradict the fear.

Appropriately, the converse is also true. If we can change our idea about whether we believe this fear or not, this simple act proves it wrong in the same moment. Something has changed in us. Therefore, we have changed.

TINY STEPS AND LEAPS

April 23rd, 2018

There are only two reasons for tiny steps: 

The first is for fine-tuning. 

But just as the largest switchbacks are at the base of the mountain where it is widest, and the smallest, tightest, fine-tuning switchbacks are at the top where there is simply very little room – tiny steps for fine-tuning come only after large leaps.

The second reason for tiny steps is: fear.

Those who wish to change but are unwilling to take those initial large leaps in different directions towards progress falsely comfort themselves with tiny steps.

“I like to take my time.”

 “I do small experiments to get a more detailed understanding.”

“It’s just dramatic and crazy to make such big changes! And it could be a mistake that’s as big as the leap! If a mistake is going to be made, better it be only a small step in the direction of that mistake. Easier to turn back, less distance to retrace.”

Less distance to retrace back to that comfortable little bubble.

How many Disney movies do we need before we intuit the fact that substantial change and growth starts with huge moves, far flung adventure, drastic measures, grand experiments, taking chances and courageous risks? These movies start with a boring status quo: a comfortable little bubble. And then that bubble pops.

Only tiny steps are possible inside that comfortable bubble and they will never result in meaningful, substantial change. 

(This does not actually mean we must go on some far flung adventure. We can very easily make a huge leap regarding the contents of our refrigerator. All that requires is a trip to the grocery store with a new and radical intention about what we will buy.)

Relying only on tiny steps towards progress is similar to expecting an ant to one day give you a detailed map of the planet. An ant takes tiny steps.

Unless it’s an immortal ant and we have an absolutely ridiculous amount of time, we’re only going to get a very detailed map of a tiny portion of say, a neighborhood. (Think about how fast and vast the distance travelled by a GPS satellite – THAT will give you a map.)

The other aspect of Tiny Steps Vs. Leaps is that our observational abilities are fairly dull and flawed, especially when it’s with regards to self-observation. 

The actual results of tiny steps are simply really difficult to accurately and reliably notice without a large context as a backdrop for the arena of our experiementation.

We kid ourselves that a tiny step we have taken is having a noticeable effect, but fail to take into account the placebo effect -  which works even if you know you’re taking a placebo! Chances are, the positive effects of that tiny change are just all in our head. 

That’s not necessarily bad. 

But it’s a delusional understanding of one’s self.

A positive mental attitude is just first-gear. It will only get you so far.

These delusional effects are harder to ‘fake’ if the changes we institute are more on the order of a giant leap.

Large leaps are more likely to result in actual, noticeable changes. Good changes, unexpected changes, unneeded changes... the whole shebang of experimental results. Changes that are unforgivingly noticeable, and therefore constitute reliable information about the world and ourselves.

We learn more, and we learn more accurately by starting with drastic changes, and working from those large leaps down to smaller and smaller tiny steps in order to fine-tune exactly what works for us.

Think of it this way:

When Michelangelo started sculpting his ‘David’ out of a giant solid block of stone. Do you think he started with sandpaper?

We must not delude ourselves into thinking that we’ve already made those large leaps or that they aren’t useful.

Take out the biggest chisel, the heaviest mallet and start. . .

blasting away.

A LUCILIUS PARABLE: SOARING DREAMS

April 22nd, 2018

During his travels, Lucilius found himself walking through a vast expanse of grassy, rolling hills. It was midday when a single huge tree rising from a large hill came into view. He kept walking and the tree disappeared as he descended into a valley. And again he saw it as he mounted the next hill. He decided it would make a good spot to rest and meditate and headed for the tree. But, as he descended into the next small valley and the tree clipped from sight, he saw something fall from the tree.

From the next hill he saw something fall once more from the tree.

He walked on until he was climbing the very hill where the tree stood. The final steps to the steep hill revealed a small boy, bruised at the knees and elbows, a scrap on his leg clotted with blood and his face puckered with dried tears. He was just about to climb the tree when he noticed Lucilius near.

“Are you ok?” Lucilius asked the small boy.

The boy nodded and looked back to the tree.

“What are you doing?” Lucilius asked.

Looking up into the tree, the little boy said only “I’m going to fly.”

Looking again to the bruises and crusting blood, Lucilius asked “and how do you plan to do that?”

The boy turned away from the tree to face Lucilius.

“If only I jump from a higher branch.” He looked up into the tree, studying the high boughs. “Then maybe I’ll really fly.”

“You’ve tried the lower branches have you?” Lucilius asked. The boy nodded. “And what makes you think you can fly?”

“I was told I can do anything. I just have to believe.”

Lucilius drew nearer to the boy and sat against the tree, pondering the boy’s borrowed wisdom.

“Then why, dear boy, do you aim to jump from a higher branch, if it’s only a matter of believing?”

The boy looked at Lucilius, confused.

“But I do believe.”

“But you are the one that said that believing is all that’s needed.”

The boy wondered about this and Lucilius went on.

“There seems to be another part of your mind – a very useful part of your mind – that is willing to wonder if there’s more to it than just believing. And so you came up with the idea of a higher place to jump from. But what branch or cliff should matter if you believe?”

The boy looked hard at Lucilius, pondering this question. Then his gaze shifted back to his plan high up in the tree, his certainty faltering. 

“Perhaps more is required than simple belief? Believing, yes is important and necessary. But perhaps there is more to making things happen than merely believing in the possibility. If you charge ahead, determined to simply believe more truly, then you rob yourself of clear thinking, and that can lead you to do something you may not want to. Something you may regret. Something that may even end up hurting you.”

The boy looked at Lucilius and followed his nod to the bruises and dried blood.

“Put belief aside for a little while. It seems you’ve got it well covered.”

The boy looked longingly back up into the high branches.

“Come sit with me boy and we’ll think about it together.”

The boy sighed, and then sat with Lucilius.

“What gives you the idea to fly?”

“The birds.”

“And what do the birds have that make them fly?”

“Wings.”

“And do you have wings?”

Dejected, the boy looked to the ground and responded, “no..”

“Can you grow wings, or magically make yourself somehow have wings like birds?”

“No..”

“It seems there is a little more to flying than just believing.”

“Yea..”

“Do you like building things?”

The boy peered at Lucilius, suspicious.

“My father says my hands are too small for tools. So I don’t know.”

“We must work with what we have, accepting our limitations instead of ignoring those limitations and trying in vain to do what we cannot. But the key is to first figure out what those limitations are. Then we must survey what we have to work with. And so often, our focus on limitations blinds us from seeing all that is available to us.”

Lucilius picked up a seed fallen from the tree. The seed was shaped like two small wings adjoined with thicker seeds. He picked up another pair and a small twig. Taking a small knife from his satchel, he stripped the twig and made cuts into each end where he fitted the pairs of seed wings. He gave the little glider a push and it flew a few feet before landing in the soft grass.

The boy’s face lifted, and he scurried over to the little glider. He held it up and inspected it before launching it off and watching it soar. 

“Sometimes, our dreams don’t fit into the world too well.

... sometimes we make the mistake of thinking we are our dreams. We have minds that dream by any rules and sometimes no rules. But the world exists because of subtle natural rules, and we must learn them if we hope to bring any of our dreams to life.”

The boy raced over to the glider and picked it up again, and then walked slowly back to Lucilius.

“Following a dream blindly can cause us much pain.”

The boy handed the glider to Lucilius, and Lucilius launched it high into the sky, and the boy watched with delight as the glider caught an updraft and flew higher than the highest boughs of the tree.

“Sometimes, we have to let go of our dreams to watch them soar.”