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.
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.
If I can 
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.
Over the past two weeks I’ve been involved in an exciting organisational listening project.
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.
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.
It’s no use screaming at a seed to grow faster.And it doesn’t help to nurse resentment or frustration, to say to the seed “how dare you do this, to me? How dare you keep me waiting?” All you can do is provide the care, water, light and support that will allow new shoots to appear. In the end, living things always take the time that they take.People are not so different from this. It’s no use insisting that we align to your needs alone, that we change to meet the strength of your insistence, your urgency. Instead, how about listening and observing carefully so you can find out what we need to grow. And then being witness to the beauty of our unfolding?If you orient this way to others, perhaps you’ll find that you unfold a little yourself.
You want a perfect world.You want a world in which you no longer have to experience longing or confusion. You want a world in which all your needs get met, all your desires.You want a world in which you get to be peaceful, undisturbed - in which you don't have to fight or disagree with others; or in which you know yourself always to be loved; a world in which you achieve unparalleled success and the recognition it affords; or a world in which your uniqueness is understood, treated always with respect and dignity.You want a world that will teach you, in which you can pursue a topic uninterrupted to its very end; or a world in which you feel no fear, a world in which you can trust. You want a world which will allow you to do just what you want; or a world you can control.All these wants, these hopes, the pursuit of which can carry you so far - and the pursuit of which can lock you in an unending cycle of desperation, resignation, comparison, cynicism and suspension (for, perhaps, you've decided that you cannot really live until you get what you want).So perhaps as well as wanting to bring about a perfect world, you could also attend just as vigorously to learning how to live in the imperfect, messy, always incomplete world. A world where people won't always show their love (but in which there is love, just the same). A world in which you will fail, repeatedly and painfully. A world which will not always seem to see you, and which cannot always reassure you. A world which will constrain you, and over which you cannot be in control. In short, a world just like the one in which we all live. And a world which, perhaps, alongside all your efforts to change or get away, you might find the possibility of loving, just as it is.
We want our change to be public.We want visions, new behaviours, stories, posters, internal PR strategies.We want competency frameworks and snappy slogans - the three 'C's and the four 'D's.We want our leaders to model it.We want to cascade it, promote it, embed it, plan it.We want buy-in, engagement, champions, fire-starters.We want early wins. And charts of what is to come.We want to overcome resistance.We want change designed, predicted, and engineered.We want to measure it, chart it, and progress it.But sometimes - no, often - the change that turns out to matter to us is far from what we expected, and far from the world imagined by change managers and corporate roll-outs.It happens quietly and gradually, through the living actions of many. It emerges and unfolds, like buds budding.It comes about when we find new stories to tell one another or new people to talk with, new ways of listening and speaking, new ways of making sense, and new ways of practicing together.And it cannot be planned in advance because it's subversive - undoing our preconceptions and opening new worlds we could not imagine until they were upon us.