writing

What happens when you stop

Are you so busy because there’s so much to do?

Or are you busy because you can’t tolerate what you feel when you stop?

Yes. There’s a lot to do. There always is.

But there’s much to be said for cultivating your ability to feel your anxiety, longing, despair, sadness, and emptiness instead of launching into action all the time.

Because as long as the source of your action is running away or a means to fill a hole, it’s much harder than it needs to be do what genuinely matters. And - perhaps this might surprise you - it’s also much harder to feel the joy, satisfaction and fulfilment that comes with doing it.

So how about dedicating even a small amount of your time to letting things be? And to finding out what you’re running from?

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10 year celebration, 21st May, London

It's ten years since I put down the tools of my former life (computer programming tools, mostly) to see what would become possible if I responded to an insistent, mysterious, and much more uncertain but genuine vocational call - attending to the possibility of human life more fully and genuinely lived through coaching, teaching, organisation development and writing.And it was from this putting down and taking up that thirdspacethe organisation I founded, was born. For the past ten years we've committed ourselves to the development of others and, for the last seven, to teaching others to do, with as much integrity and skill as possible, the kind of work we love so deeply. It's been a blessing to be surrounded by clients, teachers, colleagues, faculty and friends who embody such deep shared commitment to the repair of what's broken in the world.And to celebrate all of this we're holding an evening workshop on Music and Vocation in London, at 7pm on 21st May, with the wonderful Dubravko Lapaine. Du was pursuing a PhD in mathematics when he heard and responded to a very different call. He's now a highly talented and respected didgeridoo player. He'll be with us for the evening, playing, in conversation, and exploring what it is to follow a vocational path of this kind.As well as a celebration, and a chance to learn, it's our first foray into the world of the arts. It's been a long held ambition of mine to bring art, development, learning and music together.Maybe some of you will join us.I'd love that.All the details are here

Declaring Meaning

When we find out how much of the world is made up - by us - it's tempting to pull everything apart. We pull apart institutions - because we see how groundless their authority is. We pull apart politics - because as we see more into the ordinary lives of our politicians we discover that they are ordinary and flawed like us, and we no longer have reason to simplistically trust either their intentions or their abilities. We pull apart relationships - because we don't feel any reason to commit, beyond our moment-to-moment likes and dislikes. And we pull apart beliefs and practices that can bind us together.This step - using reason to see through what we'd taken to be unquestionably true is in so many ways a necessary developmental step for each of us and for our society. Indeed, it's the step that allowed us to discover science and its methods of rigorous, grounded inquiry. And it made it possible to undo the divine right of kings to rule over us, and to bring about democracy.But it's also so easily the route to nihilism: the move to render everything meaningless, everything pointless, everything disposable as we discover that the structures and stories and roles we used to trust were made up by other people. And, as the philosophers Kierkegaard and Nietzsche warned us, this ends up with us tearing meaning apart too, as we find out that what meaning we encountered in the world was only there because other people declared it anyway.And so the next step important after undoing it all is to find out that it's also within our power to put things back together, to declare meaning for ourselves. To find out that there are many kinds of truth, including those that take into account goodness and beauty as well as just reason. That out of the fragments of what we have taken apart, we can still choose practices, people, relationships, stories, commitments and vows to live by that invest life with purposefulness, care, and dignity.  And that this is possible, and necessary, in every sphere of life - in work, home, community and politics - specifically because we've found out that without it there is so little for us to stand on.

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Undoing

Delight and relief this evening at earning my next kick-boxing belt - 5th grade, red-white.

For years I walked past the dojo at the end of my street, filled with unexamined judgements about the obviously aggressive, uncontained people who’d take up such a thoughtless and damaging sport. But over time I began to see how my criticisms arose mostly from a shadow part of myself about which I was in denial - a part that wants to rage, and act forcefully, that wants to express anger rather than hold it back, that does not want to be contained. A part of which I was afraid - both for its destructive power and for its capacity to upset the careful balance of my life so far.

And the more I saw this, the more I saw that kick-boxing could be a practice that would support me in undoing myself or, at least, undoing the very particular calm, held-together, gentle presence I’d cultivated both for public view and for myself. The immediate reaction of most people who are close to me - surprise, shock, and “that’s not like you” - showed me I was on to something. Because in all development, in all that we do to allow life to flow though us with less interruption, there’s quite some undoing to do, quite some getting out of the way.

And so it’s joyful to find myself in the midst of a regular practice that supports me in having the body of someone who can act with vigour, and with speed, and with power. A privilege to be subject to such rigorous standards so that earning a new belt stretches me, confronts me what I’m still struggling with, shows me with some surprise what I can do, and calls me onward. And a wonderful surprise to discover that far from being filled with thoughtlessness, this is a discipline taught by people who embody both great wisdom, and great love.

Deepening our difficulty

How much of the pain we cause others at work comes from our own unacknowledged pain?How much do we wound others, because we feel wounded?How much do we have others not be seen, because we do not feel seen ourselves?And how much do we project our own harsh self-judgement so that we see others through a harsh lens rather than working to see ourselves, first, with more kindness?Each time I'm told that work is not the place to address what's personal, it seems clearer to me what a mistake this is. We have to learn to look at all this. And talk about it.If treat work as if it isn't a fully human affair, we deny ourselves the possibility of dealing skilfully with our difficulties. And if we use a shield of politeness and faux-civility to turn away from our own darkness, we shouldn't be surprised that our workplaces continue to magnify and deepen our suffering. And nor should we be surprised how difficult it is to bring about the results, projects, and outcomes we wish for.

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People by numbers

If I can treat you as an ‘it’, then I’ve got your number.You’re a lawyer, a doctor, a teacher,a nuisance, a blessing, a distraction,always late, always good for a laugh, always boring,infuriating, beautiful, unreliable.It takes courage to treat you as a ‘you’,because I might find out that you’re none of these, that you defy language or explanation. I might find out that you’re not who you were when I left this morning, that you’re not who I’m trying so desperately to have you be. I might have to allow myself to be bowled over by your vastness and your mystery. I might have to allow myself to feel your suffering. It takes courage, because when I find out how little of you I really know, I might find out that I also know only a little of myself.And when I’m open enough to treat you as ‘you’, there’s a chance I might get to be ‘I’ in return.

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Pay attention

For all the current hype about mindfulness and meditation - the does-it work or doesn't-it work, the neuroscience and the pseudoscience - at heart what's at stake is our capacity to pay attention. What mindfulness practices show us most simply is quite how little attention most of us are paying to anything.It's our capacity to pay exquisite attention to thoughts and feelings that opens up the possibility of having them rather than being had by them. And this is the foundational difference between a certain kind of slavery and a certain kind of freedom.Put another way, practicing paying attention purposefully and repeatedly over time (usually a long time) opens up the possibility of learning to respond to what you're experiencing rather than reacting habitually to it.And this is important because being stuck in repetitive habitual reactions is an enormous constraint on your capacity to engage - meaningfully, powerfully, purposefully, and compassionately - with the world.

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Listening

Over the past two weeks I’ve been involved in an exciting organisational listening project.

The set up: four groups of people from a single organisation, drawn from different teams and many levels of the organisational hierarchy, were given a full half day to just hear one another, in a very simple format inspired by Barry Oshry’s 'Time Out of Time' meetings.

Each person, regardless of status and regardless of role, had exactly the same amount of time to speak: eight minutes in our case. And they could say whatever they wanted, as long as it was true and as long as it was offered with sincerity. Politeness (saying what’s expected, what has us fit in and not trouble anything or anyone) was discouraged. And respect (doing others the honour of truthfully saying what you see so they can see it too) encouraged.

Everybody spoke, once. And everybody listened, many times.

As we did this, something very beautiful began to unfold. People told the story, some for the first time, of what it was really like for them to work where they do. Not the public story that's been told a million times before. Not the official story. But the truer story of hopes and successes, friendships and support, genuine commitment to shared aims, and of many many difficulties. The frustration and overwhelm of emails and busyness. How little they often found themselves genuinely talking to one another. The hiding away and defensiveness. The fear of being judged or criticised. The assumptions and stories they had about each other’s failings, and about each other’s insincerity. The punishing shadow side of high aspirations that can rarely be fully realised.

And, as they talked, a new way of seeing began to emerge - a more systemic view, a more compassionate view, and a more accurate view in which the actions of one could be seen for their effect on the other.

It was a gift to be invited to participate in such a project, in an unusually courageous organisation that's willing to invest time and resources in looking and talking in this way. In my experience of supporting many organisations over the past decade, such conversations are vanishingly rare.  So often, our wish to hurry on, to get busy, and to not have to encounter one another too deeply turns us away from the simplicity and power of such a conversation for relationship, in which we come to understand each others’ worlds enough to give us a chance to work skilfully together.

And yet conversations like these hold enormous power and possibility, because it’s only when we start to really understand our colleagues as human beings, with worlds of understanding and commitments different to our own, that we have a chance to move beyond simplistic judgements and rigidity into a more fluid, honest kind of relationship in which everyone has the chance to step forward and contribute.

All of that requires a particular kind of listening.

And it turns out that conversations for relationship are not some soft luxury, but the necessary background upon which our requests and promises come to mean something around which we can take coherent action.

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Declare it

When the Queen declares the UK parliament open, it's open.When your boss tells you you're fired, or you're hired, the declaration makes it so.Although the power of a particular declaration depends upon who is speaking (just try declaring parliament open and see if anything happens...), we all have the capacity to declare. And while your declarations don't have unlimited power they do have power.

I love you - a declaration of feeling, and of relationship.

This year I will... - a declaration of commitment.

I don't want to do this any more... - a declaration of the end of a commitment.

I want... and I don't want... - a declaration of preference.

I'm so sad... - a declaration that reveals your inner state

Every declaration you make discloses your inner world to others, makes intentions and commitments known, and opens up or closes down possibilities. And, made sincerely, declarations have enormous potential to shape your engagement with the world.And yet many people do not declare. We'd rather say 'It's important everyone is at the meeting on Tuesday' (an assessment) than 'I want you all to come to the meeting on Tuesday' (which clearly declares our own part in what we're saying). Or we'd rather hold back from saying 'I love you' or 'I'm scared of what's going to happen' because we don't know how others will react.We hold back, because declaring puts us at risk.  And then we wonder why we seem to have so little sense of purchase on our lives.By declaring you have to account for yourself, make yourself known. But if you want to participate, in any way, in authoring what happens in your life and in your work, starting to declare - clearly, often, with sincerity - is a vital step.

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Like and Dislike

Our preferences are formed from an early age. And it can be revelatory to find out how much they were formed by who and what was around us as we grew.Our early family experiences, the time in history and culture into which we were born, who we had as friends, what happened to us at school - all of these were powerful shapers of what we each turned out to like and dislike.Since our likes and dislikes manifest themselves most strongly and immediately as bodily sensations it quickly becomes invisible to us that we have preferences at all, and that they are just one way of relating to the world. One out of millions of others.And all of this is a reason why it's a necessary developmental step, for anyone who would lead or contribute in a profound way, to be able to move beyond doing things because we like them.It's our likes that keep us locked in busyness - because we can't stand the feeling of not having anything to do. It's our likes that have us pursuing more, more, more - because we can't tolerate being with just what we have already. It's our likes that hold us back from saying what's true, because we don't like what it feels like to stand out, or to risk, or to be disapproved of. It's our likes that keep us at the centre of things - because we can't stand not being needed. And it's our likes that keep us defended against the world - demanding that we experience life in just the way we want it.Stepping fully in and genuinely contributing to others requires that we take on a bigger possibility for ourselves. Which in turn means giving up engaging with the world as if what we liked and disliked were the primary way of deciding what's worth doing.

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