Working Meditation

Observations on Human Connection & Contribution

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Archives for July 2021

#49: Hidden talismans

Our places and spaces are often sprinkled with personally meaningful symbols and artifacts that are usually invisible to others. These are small everyday reminders of what we value and how we aspire to live. They travel alongside the humdrum of our days and fade into the background such that we mostly forget they are there, until we need them.

Two examples from my spaces—I have a small tattoo on my wrist that reads “Momento Mori”; it is my foremost note-to-self in life that reminds me of the inevitability of death. Reflecting on this reminder helps me dissolve doubt and fear. Mostly though, when I randomly glance at it during the normal course of my days, I surf the surface of the text without actually absorbing this message. In these moments, my wise tattoo is simply a collection of letters that are permanently etched on my body. The meaning steps forth in intentional moments when need mixes with solitude. The second example: WordPress asks me to select a specific time to publish my blog posts. I wanted to pick an early morning time that was reflective of my US Pacific Coast residence and rather than selecting 6:00am, as was my initial thought, I picked 5:55am PST.  5.55am is the time of my birth. Since every time I write it feels like I’m accessing an un-birthed part of myself, I felt this slight time adjustment was symbolically appropriate. This was also my way of honoring my parents, who nourished me with life, love and dreams.

These and the many other talismans of my life stay mostly hidden, even from me, until I need them.

It may seem silly to share our personal talismans broadly because, by definition, they lack emotional resonance for others. Nevertheless I share mine because in reflecting back I see that they have been valuable guardrails that helped me stay the course during difficult solitary moments of slog. It can be hard to devote waking hours to life if it feels bereft of meaning, especially when we are walking on a slow and painful path. In those moments, personal talismans can feel like micro reminders or…prayers, as if the soul is bowing its head in respect.

“If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.”― Thomas Merton

#48: Minimum Viable Learning

You may have heard of the term MVP, or Minimum Viable Product. It is the version of a product that has just enough features so early customers can use it and validate the product idea and target market. An MVP helps product developers receive valuable customer feedback early in the process so they can iterate on and improve the product.

I’ve recently started thinking about what Minimum Viable Learning (or MVL) might look like.  Since most of what I’m doing right now is new to me in one way or another, I toggle between learning new concepts and extracting tangible action-oriented takeaways. Ideally I would dive into a new area of information, digest what I need and then apply it to my work. But I’m noticing that the more I know, the more I see my knowledge gaps and this creates a desire to double down on learning rather than on the application of learning. Moreover, as time passes in life, chances are that we’ve faced a few stumbles and this history of falling and failing may feed the need to make our thinking bulletproof with more knowledge. This combination of past failures and awareness of our knowledge gaps creates mountains of internal resistance so instead of working, we find ourselves opening the fridge for that ill-timed snack. So…I’m starting to employ this idea of MVL to address this anti-action cycle.

MVL acknowledges that learning, action and contribution are iterative; it is the minimum amount of information we need to create personal mental models and vocabulary around a specific issue, so we can then design and implement a solve. We can spend our lives consuming information and living on the bench, or we can get to our MVL, take action, gain feedback, and adjust ensuing action accordingly. Minimum Viable Learning can be a helpful tool in outwitting perfectionism and resistance.

“Never confuse movement with action.”― Ernest Hemingway

#47: Marking Time

I have an orchid that blooms diligently year after year; it was a house warming gift from a friend. The first year it bloomed from scratch in my new house, I shared its beauty with my family over video calls and messages. I had planted several interesting indoor plants in this new home so the orchid was one of many but what differentiated it was that, unlike others, it flowered. Then later that year my brother, who was a part of this message thread, passed away unexpectedly.

Since then every time this orchid blooms, I think of him with an achy heart. Not because he had any attachment to orchids but because the first time it flowered in my new home, we shared the joy. There is also a sweetness to this experience since the flowers appear only once a year over the summer. The unique shape of the flower along with annual blossoms may make you think that it’s a fickle plant but that’s not the case. It’s my easiest to care for plant with a flowering cycle that I can count on. And so I await this orchid’s flowers with a bittersweet feeling. Sweetness that my wait gets showered with the gift of a flower and the bitterness of marking time’s travel from my moment of loss.

This year, just as three buds started to appear, I adopted a cat named Fern. In her inquisitiveness, Fern sniffed and bit off one bud and the other two got dislodged while moving the orchid to a less accessible spot. In one fell swoop, I lost one of my key markers on this very private journey of loss. Before this episode I hadn’t acknowledged the role this flower was serving for me and now that I’ve lost it, I have been thinking about how its annual rhythm helped me navigate personal time and loss. The orchid didn’t create or remove the sadness of loss. It was more like an etch-a-sketch clock, self-created and impermanent. If it wasn’t an orchid, I would have likely anointed something else with this meaning. It seems to me that these personal markers infuse private meaning to time. While our focus is on time and not the markers themselves, if we didn’t have the markers…would we understand time’s passage the same way? If we didn’t have a sense for what a minute, hour, or year means in very personal terms, would we be able to infuse our compressed lives with so much joy and meaning? These markers give our aches, joys, and loves a time-bound container. They are like a metronome, keeping the beat of our lives, reminding us to live in alignment with our innermost nudges.

Even though my orchid’s fate next year lies in Fern’s self-control abilities, I think for now it will continue to serve as my private marker of love and loss.

“We live in secret cities
And we travel unmapped roads…

You and I, we are the secret citizens of the city
Inside us, and inside us

There go all the cars we have driven
And seen, there are all the people

We know and have known, there
Are all the places that are

But which used to be as well. This is where
They went. They did not disappear.”― Alberto Ríos

#46: Destruction and creation

Destruction is not something we wish for ourselves or our loved ones. The word destruction, understandably, has only negative associations and fills one with dread. It is “the act of destroying something or the fact of being destroyed”, and who wants that! Yet, we experience and participate in destruction throughout our lives― when the work we spent years doing no longer fits us, when the business or life partnership we commited to dissolves, or perhaps when we need to give away our beautiful and thriving plants because they are toxic to our new cat. In case you’re wondering…yes, I adopted a cat named Fern and she has been a destructive force for my routine, focus and décor.

My larger point is that destruction doesn’t always occur in serious and existential ways; and while it may often appear in small ways, the change and adjustment feel difficult. And within this adjustment may lie seeds of creation. As we create our new normal, we exercise parts of ourselves that we hadn’t before and observe aspects we didn’t know existed within us. Despite our best efforts, life changes and old habits, ideas, and structures get dismantled and new ones take shape in their place. We repeatedly engage in this hard dance of destruction and creation. Fern and I are currently engaged in this dance, and our time together has been bewildering and joyful.

“May I feel all I need to feel in order to heal; may I heal all I need to heal in order to feel.”— Marguerite Rigoglioso

Fern

#45: It is personal

Artists paint the landscape they inhabit. Athletes pick up sports they are physically suited for. Activists speak against injustices they have personally suffered from. Poets write based on their life experience. Legislators work on issues closest to their hearts. Writers explore ideas they are intrigued by. Chefs create foods that inspire them. Economists study issues they have seen play out in their life’s context.

I am thankful that so many people pepper their life’s work with their life’s color. We will never be able to inhabit this array of experiences and their work offers a view into a sliver of humanity that would otherwise be out of reach. If it wasn’t for people infusing their work with their personal inspiration and vitality, our lives would be duller, our imagination weaker, our courage meeker. In business, the words “it’s not personal” are used as a free pass to care less. But the best work is personal, and aren’t we glad!

“I dream my painting and I paint my dream.”― Vincent van Gogh