Working Meditation

Observations from a life in motion

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Archives for November 2021

#63: Work as craft

We tend to think of creative work as a craft. Something that requires focus, genuine care, patience and practice, which eventually turn to skill. We respect and prize this level of commitment. Yet most of us likely hesitate from referencing our own work as craft. We may shy away for a litany of valid reasons― seems like a lofty ideal that might attract eye-rolls, others may think we’re posturing, our work environment is so transactional that it laughs in the face of such care, we had this attitude once but circumstances have beaten it out of us, we never got the chance to practice our work like it mattered. Our reasons will come in many flavors and feel relatable to others. We might also note that most of these reasons have an external orientation, where we look to others for definition.

What if, rather than making external proclamations, we change our internal orientation and start thinking of our work as craft regardless of external incentives. What if we defined our work in terms that are personally meaningful to us? Then, what if we commit only to ourselves to show up everyday with that internal rudder?

Would we color outside the expected lines to come up with novel solutions, stick with a hard task despite hurdles, commit to something without needing external nudges? Would we be able to think beyond our self-interest? Would we show up not only with an open mind, and open heart but also an open will*? Essentially, would we do the creative work of inviting in a future we truly want for ourselves and others?

This level of silently powerful presence in our work requires a recurring choice. It’s easier to make this choice after we allow ourselves to see our own work as craft.

P.S.: The idea of job crafting is another practical way to go about shaping our work. Harvard Business Review offers a few pithy articles on this idea. Here are a couple:

*Credit: Otto Scharmer and Theory U

“When you stop downloading, you realize that you actually have a choice — a choice in how you respond to any situation. You can respond by turning away, or by turning toward. Turning away means closing your mind, heart, and will — in other words, acting from ignorance, hate, and fear. Turning toward means opening your mind, heart, and will — acting from curiosity, compassion, and courage. These are the choices we face in any moment: Do we turn away and close down, or do we turn toward and open up, activating the deeper levels of our humanity?” (Read full text here) ― Otto Scharmer, Senior Lecturer, MIT Sloan School of Management and co-founder of the Presencing Institute. 

#62: The delicate blue sky

One thing that all astronauts seem to have in common is the awe at witnessing our earth from afar. They speak of the deep emotion and tenderness they felt in the moment and the lasting perspective shift. They mention the thin blue line of our fragile atmosphere, the thing protecting our precious planet from the onslaught of space to make life possible. The same sky that appears to those of us on earth as infinite, everlasting and indestructible. While we enjoy the sky and its many stories―the dawn, the multihued sunsets, the star-studded night sky, and the enchanting moon―we don’t really think about the sky itself. It’s such a constant that it’s often invisible to us. We think it has always been there and it will always be there.

But the astronauts see it differently. They know what’s on the other side. Their veil of illusion has been lifted, making them aware of our small yet important part in maintaining or breaking this natural order. They know how fragile this nourishing blue sky actually is.

Certain life events have the power to show us our version of the delicate blue sky full of similar paradoxes. Each of us will experience these mind-bending and soul-altering events at some point in our lives. Childbirth and loss of a loved one are two examples that come to mind. They will make things more visible and impossible to take for granted. They will highlight the life-giving qualities of something alongside a sharp reminder of its fragility. They will pluck us away from our everyday to shove us in the presence of the divine. They will create a desire to tend to something deeper alongside a primordial reminder of our impermanence. They will create anxiety and discomfort.

If we sit long enough in this discomfort though, we’ll see a kernel of fearlessness amidst fear. We will see more clearly the things we have control over and those that we don’t. We will realize how truly miniscule we are compared to the limitless life. But we might also see that each of our lives has significance and a unique assignment the way each cell in the body does. And that this significance lies In shaping ourselves and contributing in ways only we can; in tending to our unique little footprint in time and space with integrity and love, not in the outsized actions and wins that popular culture might have us believe. Life asks us to tend to only our footprint, no more and no less, not because it wont fade but because before it fades it will impact another and through them another.

When you wake up to your own realization of the delicate blue sky, pause long enough to soak-in the questions that animate you. Note your version of the delicate blue sky. Note what you are called to tend to. Because when we each tend to our small footprint, we ensure every version of the delicate blue sky is tended to across time.

“Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
…There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”― Carl Sagan, Astronomer and Astrophysicist. Pale Blue Dot, 1994

#61: Language as a bridge to the new

Language isn’t just a tool for conversing. It helps us perceive what we couldn’t see before and build what we couldn’t imagine before. But we often fall into the trap of judging people based on their language. The words they use or don’t, their familiarity or ignorance of ideas, and especially when they question perspectives we deem morally right.

We judge because language also creates emotion, which makes it harder to see another’s framework, contexts and influences. However, language’s superpower is its ability to invite in the new, first by creating paths to each other and then to the futures we wish to co-create…but first we need to learn how to handle language effectively. Donella Meadows (environmental scientist, systems thinker, and educator) offers crisp words of wisdom in this regard: “The first step in respecting language is keeping it as concrete, meaningful, and truthful as possible―part of the job of keeping information streams clear. The second step is to enlarge language to make it consistent with our enlarged understanding of systems. If Eskimos have so many words for snow, it’s because they have studied and learned how to use snow.”

None of us were born with the knowledge or perspectives we have. Someone taught us what we know. We honed our thinking by interacting with people, ideas, cultures, sub-cultures, and institutions. So did they.

For instance, if I go back to say 2015, I wasn’t aware of or using pronouns. That idea was introduced to my awareness by people and contexts, and repeatedly, so it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary anymore. But I bet if I use pronouns in certain circles even today, they won’t know or understand. That bridge wasn’t created for them. Same with cryptocurrency, carbon offsets, singularity and so on. And honestly, could I explain these ideas to anyone using Donella Meadows’ litmus test of concrete, meaningful and truthful language without referencing the internet first? No, I can’t. Most people are likely in the same boat. We know a little about a lot and a lot about very little.

Rather than judging others’ lack of awareness, we can direct our attention to the combination of ideas that intrigue us or seem valuable. We can hone our own thinking and language. We can share what we know and keep learning about what we don’t. The unfamiliar and intriguing will become familiar enough to shape our lens on the world.

We invite in fertile futures first through thoughts, then words, then actions. Great movements start with ideas and words, which when captured as accurately and cleanly as possible become bridges for others, alive and unborn.

“We don’t talk about what we see, we see only what we can talk about.” ― Fred Kofman, organizational advisor on leadership and culture.