Our habits feel just like us

Our habits (which are our way of being automatic) feel very familiar to us - in our bodies, in our emotions.Said another way, when we act habitually is also when we most often feel like ourselves.Perhaps you know yourself as the irritable one, or the one who makes a joke out of things, as always just a little bit late, or as someone who can charm others. Maybe you know yourself as assertive and pushy, someone who'll always get angry, or as the one who makes sure everyone is taken care of at the expense of what's good for you. Each of them, whether helpful or not, is a habitual way of being that you keep going perhaps because it's the way you're able to feel like you.So it should be no surprise your development - making the move away from habit towards responsivenessmeans loosening your grip on what's familiar and feeling some measure of confusion, disorientation, and anxiety.And that this is what development always entails - allowing ourselves to feel unsure, a little shaky, to not know ourselves - so that we can do what's called for, not just what feels familiar.

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What your judgements reflect

When you find yourself filled with judgements about other people, don’t be so sure that what you’re experiencing is really anything much to do with them.It may well be a simple projection of the harsh judgments of your own inner critic.The critic covers its tracks like that. Wily enough to disguise itself in many ways, it would love to have you believe that everyone else is out to get you or disappoint you. And it would rather you blame what’s outside you than turn your attention inwards, where you might discover its role in keeping your world so small and contained.For this reason, the first place to look when you’re judgemental of others is towards yourself. You might just find it’s there that your difficulty with them can be most skilfully resolved.Photo Credit: Demmer S via Compfight cc

When it's your turn

I love Seth Godin's work. In many ways it was reading first his blog, and later his books, that inspired my commitment to writing. The Icarus Deception has been particularly influential for me.Seth's work helps people make the contribution they're here to make - making a noise, making trouble where it needs to be made, making a difference.His latest book "What To Do When It's Your Turn" is available for order now. I haven't read it yet, but I think it's likely to be fabulous.I wanted to make sure you got a chance to hear about it. You can find out more about the project here.[vimeo 107713987 w=500 h=281]

What to Do When It's Your Turn from Seth Godin on Vimeo.

Just One Day

onedayWhat if for just one day... you speak and listen, with singular attention, to the people closest to you.... you reflect deeply on your life - what you're aiming towards, what has you forget it, what brings you back to yourself.... you pay attention to the finitude of your life - that it will, one day and who knows when, end.... you begin a new practice that's been important to you - learning something for the first time, writing, creating something that matters.... you ask yourself the big questions you've been avoiding for so long.... you put aside all your daily distractions and see what it's like to fully inhabit your life.What if, instead of living an endless stream of days with the same routine you took one day to do one of these?What if it led to another, and in time, another?What would it change, do you think, in your relationships, in your work, and in choices you make?

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The end point of what you're doing

aimFor Aristotle, the proper way to approach any practice or activity is to do so with its right end in mind. Every practice has its proper aims and goals, a telos or end-point towards which it is oriented.So the telos for doctoring is to bring about the health of patients, and to relieve suffering.The telos for teaching is the education of students, both in their capacity to know and their capacity to act wisely upon what they know.The telos for parenting is the development of adults who can live fully in their lives, contribute and participate in wider society.The telos for lawyering is the pursuit of justice.Acting skilfully in the midst of any practice requires that we discover or locate for ourselves the right telos and point our activities in that direction.All too often we stunt our own capacity to excel by pointing our practice towards a telos which is out of place, or too small, or much too self-centred. We point our businesses towards hitting this quarter’s targets rather than making an enduring contribution; we point our parenting towards behaviour that’s convenient for us rather than our children’s development; we teach in order to get the grades rather than helping others become learners; we lead others in a way that has them follow rules and procedures rather than taking responsibility. And we do this because because we’re afraid, or trying to look good, or because we’ve forgotten why we entered into a path in the first place.All of this is both a matter of discernment (what’s called for here?) and remembering (because we forget ourselves and what we’re aimed at so quickly and so easily).When we know deeply the particular end towards which we are aiming, we open up the possibility of acting with wisdom and discernment in the many complex, ambiguous situations we are bound to face. And our dilemmas and difficulties become the opportunity to ask ‘how could I act in a way that points towards the right end for this practice?’ - a clarifying question that is often difficult to answer well but gives us a path, each time, through our confusion and uncertainty, and towards the sustainable excellence for which we long.This, in the end, is the single most importance difference between being practical (just getting things done) and exercising practical wisdom (getting things done in the right way).

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Growing

growingWe think that we're grown up just because we've hit adulthood, or because we've taken on a position of leadership.But so many of us are still looking for parents who can save us from life's difficulty, or who can tell us we're doing ok.As long as we're looking for parents, we expect the leaders of our organisations to know what to do, to tell us what's needed, and to rescue us. We hold back from speaking truth, because we're scared they'll judge us or reject us. When we don't see change coming we blame them for sticking to their rigid parental ways. And, when things don't turn out the way we want them, we blame them for failing us, instead of stepping up and taking action ourselves. We give up our capacity for independent action so we can keep ourselves in a dependent, child-like role.All of this is happening even at the most senior levels of multi-national organisations, because - it turns out - being senior and being grown up are not the same thing. It explains much about why change can be so difficult, and why so many of us hold back from solving the problems we see around us.And it makes the ongoing task of adult development so critical for each of us and our organisations. Because it's the challenging work of growing up so that we can genuinely be adults in the world - without relying on a saviour - that allows us to take collective responsibility first for our institutions, and for our society as a whole.

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Being witness

Many times

the biggest help you can be

is to turn a listening ear towards another

to hear everything they have to say

no matter how troubling how painful how confusing

to give up for a while

being another judge, another critic, another fixer of troubles

to be a welcome to all of it

all of it

and in your seeing and hearing embrace

find out how healing

being witness can be

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The horizon that is visible is not the whole sky

When we take the automatic path (see this post, and this), we try to resolve our difficulties by doing more of what we're already in the habit of doing already.

We try to deal with our overwhelm by getting busier. We think that if we can just go a bit faster we'll soon get on top of things.

We can't see that it's not a question of faster but more often a question of priority, of deciding what's important and saying no to everything else.

We try to deal with other people's apparent lack of commitment by speaking more loudly, being more insistent, yelling. We think that if we're just more forceful then people will do what we want.

But we can't see that involving others is not usually a question of force but a question of enrolment - that we'd be better turning our attention to inviting a genuine relationship that supports commitment in arising.

We try to deal with our anxiety by turning away from it, numbing ourselves, only to find out that anxiety forced underground is just as painful and, in many ways, causes us much more difficulty.

We can't see that feelings are there to be felt. That our anxiety can educate us, have us reach out for support, teach us about what's most genuinely important for us.

In each of these cases, and in many more, we'd do well to remember Martin Buber when he tells us

"The horizon visible from one's station is not the whole sky"

Or, in other words, the resolution to many of our difficulties is not to continue on automatic but to turn towards what we're not currently paying attention to.It's to find out that what we've taken to be the 'horizon' - the way the world is, the way we are, and what we have to do - is only a part of the picture. That the resolution to our difficulties, or at least the lessening of them, is often in finding out that the world of possible relationships, explanations and actions is way bigger than we'd imagined.This, then, is the path of responsiveness, and the path of development. And it's worth working on with everything we can bring to it.

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A lifetime's work

Automatic:

ClicheSaying the same thing to the same person in the same wayAll the ways we use jargon or business-speakPredictable reactions to what you're feeling (lashing out, withdrawing, self-criticising)Tuning out from what's really happeningMost of our habitsAlways knowing, always being sureExcluding certain emotionsKeeping conversation within predictable, narrow boundsSaying "I am this way"

Responsive:

Asking "What's needed now, here?"Tuning in to the wholeness of the situation - with mind, emotions, bodily sensationRelaxing your need to know what to doLetting go of feeling safe, so that what's needed can ariseAllowing yourself to be surprised - at yourself, at othersFeeling it allGiving up defending, clinging on, controlling what's happeningDoing what's called for, rather than what 'one does'

We easily become masterful at automatic. And although responsive is our human heritage, for most of us mastering it takes ongoing practice because so much of what we've learned - at school, in work, in our families - gets in the way.We could do well to remember that responsive - much needed in our lives - is a lifetime's work.

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Automatic or alive

Two paths available to all of us, that are an inherent part of being human.(1) The automatic path

Our bodies and minds have an exquisite ability to learn something new and then reproduce it without our having to pay much attention to it. It's what we rely on to get us around in the world. Navigating doors, cooking utensils, cars, speaking, phones, cities, social niceties, and paying for things would all be practically impossible were it not for this capacity. Without our automaticity we would have to learn and relearn how to interact with just about everything in the worlds we have invented.  Indeed, without our capacity to automatically respond to the vast and rich background of culture and tools in which we live, culture itself and tools themselves would be impossible.

(2) The responsive path

We also have an exquisite ability to make sense of and respond to the particular needs of the current moment. In any given situation we can find ourselves doing or saying something we've never done or said before. Sometimes our creative response can be surprising, sometimes clumsy, and sometimes we find ourselves able to respond with beautiful appropriateness to what's happening. From this comes our capacity to invent, to respond with empathy and compassion to others, and to change the course of a conversation or meeting or conflict mid-flow. Without this capacity we'd hardly be human at all. We'd be machines.

But here's a problem. We so often call on or demand the automatic path when what's called for is the responsive path:

We fall into habits shaped by the strong feelings that arise in our emotions and bodies.

We tell ourselves 'I don't like that' (and so don't do it).

We say 'I am this way' (meaning I won't countenance being any other way).

We insist other people stay the same as we know them, and put pressure on them to remain predictable in all kinds of overt and subtle ways.

We institutionalise or systematise basic, alive human interactions in our organisations, insisting on frameworks and codes and processes and procedures so that we won't get surprised.

We repeat ourselves again and again - saying the same things, the same jokes, the same ideas, the same cliches.

We think rules, tools, tips and techniques will save us.

We form fixed judgements of ourselves and others which we can fall back upon when we're in difficulty.

We turn away from anything that causes us anxiety or confusion. We prefer to know rather than not know. We're hesitant to step beyond the bounds of what's familiar, and comfortable.

We would often rather settle into the predicability and sense of safety that our automaticity allows. Sometimes we even call this professional or businesslike.And all the while what's most often called for in our dealings with others, in our businesses, in our work and in our organisations is the responsive path - our capacity to respond appropriately to the particular situation and its wider context; to be unpredictable, creative, exciting, unsettling, sensitive, nuanced and, above all, alive.

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