Does the way you use technology send you to sleep or awaken you to life?It's not a trivial question. Despite the extraordinary life-giving capacity of the devices that surround us to liberate us, to educate us, to connect us to one another, many of us use them to numb ourselves, to soothe ourselves, to prevent us from the risky and rewarding act of being in contact with ourselves, in contact with our fears, and in contact with others.We've become enchanted. It's not so different from the enchantments in the old fairy stories, in which a prince or princess would fall asleep to life until awakened by a kiss.When you look back at the hours scrolling through facebook posts and cruising YouTube clips, your incessant checking of your email, the evenings carried away by whatever happened to be on TV, what will it amount to?More importantly, does what you're doing actually address the concerns you're numbing yourself to by being enchanted in this way?And what will it take for you to feel the awakening kiss that life is already and always in the midst of giving you?
Uniform off
We wear uniforms to signal that we expect to be treated - or to treat others - in a particular way. See how:
someone in street-cleaners' uniform melts into the background, getting on with their work perhaps without interacting with other people at all;
a police officer in uniform can stop your car, arrest you, or provide certain kinds of assistance;
a business suit marks out someone who's there to talk about the concerns arising from their work, rather than the everyday;
in a hospital the whites of the doctors distinguish them from the gowns of the patients in a way that shapes a hierarchy of care - who gets to help and prescribe and who gets to receive;
In each case the uniform provides a short-cut to a particular style of interaction while actively shaping you - your attitudes, moods, possibilities, identity - at least for as long as the uniform is on, and often for long afterwards.Of course, you don't have to be wearing a physical uniform at all for any of this to happen. Your office, your desk, your job title, your qualifications, the organisation you work in - all these can function as uniform.And while the role of all these uniforms can be to point us towards certain ways of relating and talking, to open up possibilities for conversation and service to one another, very frequently the uniform becomes an invitation to treat others as something other than a full human being, to stop us from seeing one another.Hence:
executives who treat their company's clients or customers as statistics, as commodities, as 'consumers' rather than as people to be served;
physicians who come to treat their patients as particular organs, or bodies to be fixed, rather than human beings who might be scared, lonely, confused, suffering;
leaders who treat the people who work with them as 'resources' or 'capital' as if they were substances or objects;
and then:
politicians who treat the people who elected them as a means to generate money, prestige or personal power;
and further:
military designers who spend their days inventing land-mines or, more recently, autonomous killing robots as if these were just interesting design projects or a way to earn a living and not targeted, in the end, at real living human beings.
Each of these requires an I-It relationship with the world: a wilful forgetting of what people are, a turning away rather than addressing whole human beings with histories, cares, hopes, dignity and relationships shaped by meaning and possibility. And each requires a forgetting of ourselves in order to orient to others in this detached way, a forgetting that can lead us to cause all kinds of suffering.And then, at the end of the day, perhaps you get to take the uniform off and greet your loved ones - your partner, your children - as people. As full, complex, dignified, precious, cherished human beings.And here, perhaps, is the source of some hope that we can foster a different way of relating to customers, clients, patients, colleagues, electorate, world. It takes us remembering in our uniformed state that the people we're diminishing are people, just as our loved ones are people.By consciously cultivating a 'uniform off' way of relating to others in the midst of our work, one that calls us back into our humanity, fiercely, courageously, and compassionately - and by demanding that others do the same - we'll have a better chance of creating institutions that serve the world's needs instead of the narrow desires and self-interest of their creators.
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Faking it
See how often you fake your responses to others so that you can feel better.How about when you say yes
to silence your inner critic
to quiet someone's anger or strident insistence
to keep up the image you have of yourself as a hero or rescuer
to keep up the image you think others have of you
to avoid the anxiety you feel when you're not busy
to give yourself the momentary gratification of being a helpful person?
Each one of these is a yes that serves to spare you from experiences you don't like, rather than a sincere, heartfelt generous response to another or to a possibility that's presenting itself. And each one ties you in to a commitment, a promise, that you didn't fully mean to make.Imagine the waste when life, or your work, or the work of a whole organisation is built on commitments like this: commitments that weren't sincere.And if you give yourself up repeatedly in this way, what kind of life are you living? What kind of work are you doing? Most probably the life and work of someone who's holding back a large part of their most genuine, courageous and most needed contribution to the world, so that that they can instead do the work of saving themselves from feelings they'd prefer not to have.
For the sake of what?
If you have the privilege and responsibility of leading others, once in a while it's vital you ask yourself "for the sake of what am I doing this?"Are you leading
so you can feel good about yourself?to win people's approval?to show them how powerful you are?to climb the ladder?to hit the next quarter's target?to amass a fortune?to keep your inner critic at bay?to run away from something?because that's what was expected in your family?because it's the opposite of what was expected in your family?because they offered you the job?to learn about yourself? others?to support others in living, working, providing for their loved ones?to help people in their development?to lessen suffering? increase it?as an expression of love?to open new possibilities in the world?to lay the foundations for the generations who'll come after you?
Each answer leads to different places.And each answer is, day by day, shaping the life you're leading.
Always in a story
You're never just in the situations you're experiencing in some straightforward way.You're always in some kind of story about it.Mostly we don't see this. We think what we experience is just the way things are. But that's a huge misunderstanding. You're always in a story which quite probably has you as the main protagonist, at the centre of the action, and others taking up roles in relationship to you.Our stories tell us what's important, what we care about, who to speak to and how to speak, who to avoid, what to do, how to understand the events that happen to us, what sense to make of the situations we find ourselves in.Our stories shape our moods too. They shape and fuel our joy, our anger and resentment, our hope, despair, rage, love, shame, frustration and gratitude.To be human is to be storied in this way. We can't escape it.Every story opens some possibilities, while closing others. So the responsibility and possibility open to each of us is to re-imagine our stories in a way that frees us, and those around us, to act on what matters.Here's just a small sample of the kinds of stories you might find yourself living:
An expert technician: life and work are there to be figured out. You can only act when you know the right answer.
An orphan: alone, cast out, seeking home but never finding it. Carrying a huge hidden burden which apparently can never be put down.
A small person in a land of giants: unable to move in case you get squashed.
A giant in a land of midgets: using your size to get what you want every time.
A prisoner in a jail cell: always looking for the key that will set you free.
A servant: only ok when you're helping others (but never helping yourself).
A movie star: trying to win respect by being more famous or more beautiful than others.
A lonely oldest child: self-sufficient but also isolated, never depending upon others.
A responsible older child: stays strong, always knows what to do, sorts things out, hides difficulty from others.
A fugitive: running from everything, running from life, terrified of being caught or found.
An impresario: looking for what is magnificent and of value (in self, and in others) and showing it to the world.
A poet or bard: using language and feeling to express what seems true and open new possibilities.
A matchmaker: connecting people to one another so something can happen.
Do you recognise yourself in any of these? Is there another story that describes the way you're living more accurately? What space for acting, relating, and imagining does it offer you?And is there another story that you could live that would bring you closer to the contribution you long to make?
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Not knowing the way
Mostly, we're so committed to knowing where we're going, what we're up to - planning, organising, setting goals, planning again - that we forget the enormous value of losing our way for a while.It's in not knowing which direction to turn - and being prepared to admit that, most of the time, we really can't know where life is leading us - that we can discover a part of ourselves that's often hidden. The quiet, steady, still centre from which everything arises. The part of us that can never be lost, even in the depths of our confusion. The part that's trusting of life as it is, however it turns out. The part that actually looks at the world as it presents itself, instead of clinging tightly to how we'd like it to be.If you're living a life in which you're expending enormous effort in an attempt to stay on top of it all, you might be missing all this, especially if you're denying to yourself and others that you're ever confused or uncertain. But, sometimes, allowing yourself to lose your way is a blessing, a way of encountering the part of you from which creativity can arise like a fresh, bubbling spring.What would it take, do you think, to soften your grip on certainty so that any of this might become possible?
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Midrash
In the Jewish tradition, any story is an invitation to interpretation, to imagination, to invention. You read a story not so much for what's true in it, as for what can be imagined into the spaces. So a straightforward story can become the launching point for wildly differing interpretations, all of which are held alongside one another even if they're paradoxical, mysterious or downright contradictory.It's a tradition known as midrash and it embodies a commitment to see things from many angles, to have many different kinds of explanations for what might initially look obvious and simple. In midrash there's no such thing as a story with a monopoly on the truth.Often, it's helpful to do midrash with your own life, with your work, with your relationships.You probably already have habitual ways of explaining who you are, who others are, what's happening, and what's possible. Perhaps you currently have only one telling available to you, one that's so familiar, so trusted, you can't even tell that it's there.Making midrash from your own life involves starting to tell a different story from the one you're currently telling. Maybe you're not the righteous, wounded hero after all. Perhaps they're not out to get you, but are trying to help. Maybe you're not as in control of your life as you think - or perhaps you're much more in control already than you knew. Maybe it is possible for you to be someone who asks for what you want. Perhaps there's a contribution you're making that you can't see because of your self-critical stories. Maybe life has an invitation for you that's not going to come from trying harder and harder until you work yourself into the ground.These are just a few of the stories you might have about yourself and life, and a few of the alternatives you could start to imagine. You could also ask others how they'd tell the story of your situation - great midrash can begin simply from here.Even if you have only one way of explaining your life, it's already midrash, already just one interpretation of many that are possible.So much opens, and so much suffering can be avoided, when you stop believing your own stories as the only truth.
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Mood leadership
If you want to lead others you'll need to see that leadership is far more than making sure people know what to do or that they get things done.One place to look is your capacity to discern the mood of those around you, and to cultivate new moods.Every mood has its own space of possibility.In resentment, frustration and resignation the space is tiny - oriented only around that which we want to have happen but which eludes us. In despair too - every action burdened, every idea too heavy to lift.In cynicism nothing can touch us - no idea, no invitation, no possibility brings us in close enough to engage.In hope, possibilities open up again for us... perhaps there is a way forward. In joy and love we discover what moves us, enlivens us, energises us to take action on what we care about.In acceptance we find our capacity to stay focussed even through the turns of life in the chaotic, unpredictable world as well as in times of order. In gratitude we notice again and again the privilege of being up to something alongside others.Ignoring mood is like ignoring the weather - going out in the snow in your summer clothes and claiming you won't freeze.And because moods aren't private it's helpful to discern what your own moods are. If you're in a position where others look to you, your moods will be having more of a shaping effect than you can imagine.But, mostly, your leadership is going to call on you to cultivate new moods in yourself and in others. You can't force it - demanding a mood won't work out here. Nor will accepting other people faking their mood.So start by wondering. What are the places, people, conversations, practices that can cultivate the moods that make possible what you and those around you care about? What are you doing that brings them about? What are you doing that thwarts them?If you're paying this no attention, or if you're actively cultivating resentment, cynicism, frustration or resignation, you're further away from leading than you think.
Wonder
This morning, I took my daughter on the bus to school. She's six. The whole journey was a source of amazement for her. Every detail had something wonderful to consider - how many different buses come to our street, where they go, how the driver knows what route to take, how people decide where to get on and off, how the payment system works, what happens when a bus breaks down, how you can find out which bus you should choose to get where you want to go. On and on our conversation went, leaping from one topic to another.She was still talking about it at the end of the day.How glorious to be able to look at the world this way, to see in what most of us consider humdrum and prosaic the sheer extraordinariness of everything.If your background mood is cynicism, you might already find yourself objecting to what I'm saying here. "Yes," you'll argue "that's very nice. But we can't all drop our adult responsibilities and look at the world as a six-year old might."So then, look with wonder through adult eyes. You could start just by noticing what it takes for a bus to arrive at the end of your street.Somebody had to discover how to extract metals from ore, to melt them and shape them, to harden them against rust. Others had to discover how to spin yarn, weave fabrics, make rubber, plastic, and then make useful objects and forms from them. We had to discover oil, and ways of transforming its latent energy into movement, and all the technology that goes into the internal combustion engine. And for this we needed the disciplines of physics and chemistry, the mathematics and experimental method upon which they stand, and the language required to speak and think and invent anything at all. We needed to invent factories, means of mass production, and the social and political arrangements that would make it possible for people to work in them. We needed means of distribution for the fuel - tankers and pipelines and storage and pumps. The entire interlocking systems of money and economy that liberated us from having to produce our own personal food, and the agricultural technology that could free up vast numbers of us to work in other fields. We needed to invent systems and rules for driving, and ways to teach them to other people, the roads to drive on (and all the technology and materials that make them up), and the social norms that allow us to behave on buses in ways that make them usable.Everything in the human world depends upon these incomprehensibly vast networks of interlocking materials, tools, language and practices in which everything relies on everything else. That our evolution has made this possible, and that we find ourselves able to recognise and navigate such a complex world, should be an invitation to wonder again and again at the sheer unlikeliness of what we call the ordinary and the everyday. And this is in addition to whatever wonder we might have that life and all that comes with it is possible at all.To cultivate wonder is to cultivate gratitude: one of the most spacious and life-giving of moods. It's a necessary alternative to living in a way that cultivates the smaller, more imprisoning and much more destructive moods of resentment and cynicism.Most of us have forgotten all this.It must be time to start to remember.
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Resentment
Our moods reveal the world to us, showing us what in other circumstances would remain hidden from view.But not all moods are equally disclosive. Some moods have the world contract, hiding more from us than they reveal, leaving us with a much smaller space for action, for relationship, for possibility.Resentment is just such a mood.It shows you your supposed superiority - all the ways you're right, all the ways you've been wronged, all the ways you're meant to be getting what you want, all the ways to take revenge.It distances you from others. And if directed at life, distances you from life. It's riddled with arguments about why this should be the case - what you're owed, the unfairness of it all. And its arguments wrap themselves around one another to form a tight knot in your body, in your mind - a knot that can shield you from looking at any of this in a different way.Just about anything can be a source for resentment, if you'll let it. It will draw your attention to everything you're entitled to, and everything you apparently didn't get. Love, money, status, respect, honour, a promotion, security, recognition, success, your way.And although resentment can injure anyone, its biggest harm is to you as its sponsor as it twists you, hardens you, separates you from others. It's like a knife turned back on yourself, like drinking poison with the misguided idea that it will cause someone else to die.So noticing it's resentment is vital, because it makes the world so small, so tightly sealed. And it's doubly important to look, because resentment is wily. It disguises itself to look like anger, like boredom, like resignation, like a righteous principled stand. It's none of these.When you catch on to your own resentment, you'll begin to find out the ways you're responsible for it, and all the ways you're cultivating it. And then, perhaps then, you'll have the courage to let it go and find somewhere to stand that's more honest about your part in things, kinder to yourself and others, more connecting, and more filled with possibility.
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