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#76: Systems of -isms

Like -ing, -ation, -fy, or -itis, -ism is a suffix appended to the end of a word to form a derivative. Suffixes have meanings so -itis indicates inflammatory disease say dermatitis, -fy forms verbs that denote producing like amplify, and -ism indicates a distinctive practice, system, or philosophy. All -isms are preconceived and widely held ideas that are often fixed and oversimplified, they create unjust treatment of different categories of people or things, and are harmful to those on the receiving end. When this prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination is based on race, we call it racism; when based on age, we name it age-ism; and when due to sex, we refer to it as sexism. Capitalism and authoritarianism are -isms too.

As mentioned above, an -ism is a system. A system is a cohesive group of interrelated, interdependent parts that can be natural or human-made. Systems are bound by space and time, influenced by their environment, defined by their structure and purpose, and expressed through their functioning. A system is more than the sum of its parts if it expresses synergy or emergent behavior. Our economies are systems, so is the garden in our backyard, as is our work culture.

I’d like to dissect sexism like a specimen as it’s one of the -isms I’ve faced countless times. I’ll take one very specific example to explore how the -isms we repeatedly navigate are both out there and in here. Even if we are unwilling participants, we live within these systems and they infiltrate us in subtle ways.

I strive to wake up early in the mornings, to have silent time for reflection and writing. I prefer to do all of this before my workday begins and when I don’t, I’m not able to get to it later in the day. My husband in tandem has a packed work schedule that’s typical of big consulting firms; with early mornings and late nights, back-to-back meetings, high-pressure and high-visibility deliverables, and often zero breaks for food. It’s been particularly relentless recently. Because I’m more adept at cooking and I love him, I ensure he doesn’t go hungry. He’s a wonderful partner and puts in his share of work in his limited free time (laundry, gardening and home maintenance are his domains). When his work takes over though, it takes over my life, routine and mind-space too.

Then rather than writing right after my contemplative practices like I prefer, I make breakfast. By the time I get to my desk, my internal silence (which I appreciate for writing) has dissipated. I’d rather just make my tea and start writing but if I don’t first make breakfast, he won’t get a chance to eat…and I feel guilty when he hasn’t eaten. Similarly, when I heat a quick lunch, desperately wanting to get back to work, I worry he hasn’t eaten. When I see his empty water bottle sitting on the kitchen counter, I know he must have been in such a rush that he forgot so I fill it and poke my head in his office inconspicuously to prevent dehydration and headaches. By the time I get back to my work, its often taken far longer than I would have liked and my focus has already dissipated, replaced by self-scolding.

Most modern men will say they respect women and treat them as equals but what we all don’t see is that -isms aren’t as simple. In the scenarios above, where does my guilt and emotional weight come from? Why am I more adept at cooking and he at home maintenance? How is he able to care for me with tenderness and respect but without guilt? Could I just do my work like he does his without worrying about him? (This is why I miss being in an office environment by the way). I couldn’t tell you even if I tried where my love ends and the ingrained gender-normative patterns begin. I’m quite independent and free by all Indian cultural standards. I have a marriage of equals but I can’t shake some of my behaviors because of my cultural exposure, where the fierce strength of women and their subservience is on equal display.

In our trigger-happy social-media fueled world, it’s easy to have an angry knee-jerk reaction when someone brings up the -isms they struggle with. We’re tempted to find someone to blame or to deflect responsibility altogether. But these are very messy, entangled threads that weave invisible webs all around and through us. My husband’s employer, for instance, is as much a part of this system; because there is an underlying assumption that overworked employees are able to ensure their own wellbeing. This is where capitalism meets sexism, an example of -isms intersecting and weighing down certain people in unseen ways. He’s able to work like he does because I stay on top of our nutrition, cleaning, groceries etc. Employers most certainly don’t see their part in feeding our gender-normative behaviors at home.

The first step when navigating an -ism is to see it as a system and do our small part in untangling our own complex and interconnected threads. I’d like to be more like my husband– tender yet boundaried; but I don’t think I will ever be able to just walk by with food and dive right back into focused work when he is clearly hungry. My personal task then is to create some healthy boundaries with his employer and not let them encroach into my work, to erase the guilt and infuse my care only with love. We can work on our -isms only if we first become aware of the patterns.

“Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering – because you can’t take it in all at once.”— Audrey Hepburn, actress and humanitarian.

#68: Room for doubt

There are times where even a hint of doubt is undesirable. For example, high-stakes situations with immediate consequences; like landing an aircraft or performing life-saving surgery. For a lot of other things however we carry more doubt than we show and we tend to hide it even from ourselves. Maybe because action requires certainty and commitment to follow through and we fear if we dwell too long in doubt, we’ll melt our resolve to act. But suppressing doubt doesn’t nullify it. We carry uncertainty, hesitation and indecision perpetually.

A particularly poignant example for me is Mother Teresa, who continued in her good works despite a 50-year crisis of faith. She says in one of her letters to her spiritual advisor – “When I try to raise my thoughts to heaven, there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul. I am told God loves me, and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great, nothing touches my soul.” This is was written in the 1940s, relatively early in her work and roughly 30 years before her Nobel Peace Prize in 1979. These doubts never abated but she didn’t abandon her belief or her work.

It’s a difficult place to operate from…when something speaks to us intrinsically enough that we commit to it but know on some level that we know little and will never know the full picture. Parenting, faith, and entrepreneurship are some common examples but the biggest example is the human life itself. Most of our discomfort is tied to the existential questions. Can any of us say with 100% certainty, without any doubt why we are here, what the purpose of a human life is, and what happens after we die? We fill in the blanks with high-judgment estimates and go about focusing on our daily life and goals. We let the act of living guide and consume us enough to create a sense of certainty in aspects: “I don’t know what happens after but know I was made for this work”. “The only thing I’m certain of is that I love my kids”. “Math has always made sense to me”. “I feel at home when I play the piano”. And so on. Micro doses of certainty on the macro path of unknown. Moments of clarity interwoven with moments of doubt, fear and loss. 

My evolving theory on doubt is this:

  1. The clearest indicator of what we should pursue and how we should live is a faint and sometimes hard to hear signal that we carry somewhere inside. Even though we carry it within, it comes across only when we silence the noise of daily pursuits, and listen without judgment. Because we may resist what we hear.
  2. We have to act despite doubt. The action doesn’t need to be big or all at once.
  3. A shared space with other people doing similar work is a huge boost, especially if we aren’t comfortable with what we’re being called to do. If this space or collective doesn’t exist, we need to create it.

#3 is perhaps the most important part in working alongside doubt. It ensures that in difficult moments, we have the wisdom of others doing  their own but similar work. That we have a safe space to air doubt, gain perspective and courage to keep going. It’s important that they understand this specific practice we have chosen. Its nuance, its promise, its fear, its draw and terror, the joy of having taken this path and the ache of having given up other options. If we want to keep going, it’s important we create a space that helps us recommit when we stumble. 

“It’s not necessary to be a saint to do good. You need willing hands, not clean ones. If we wait for our souls to be totally clean, our time on Earth may slip away.”― Mother Teresa: Roman Catholic nun

#66: Prototyping the everyday

I haven’t published in two months. I was building other parts of life that left little brainpower to review and edit. Or so I thought.

Over the last year, I saw my writing-voice take shape. But behind the scenes I was observing and getting to know myself through this part that likes to write. I saw how ideas arrive, which ones I select, how I process them, but also what I observe, what I care to write about and how I string together language. I was not only finding my writing-voice, I was finding my voice and wisdom. And because I sought discernment, I wanted to think things through a bit more before I published. I didn’t post last two months because I didn’t have time to think things through to the degree I would have liked.

I also noted that I had pieces at various stages of readiness. Some thoughts were supported only by quick scribbles to help me recall later while others were over 90% written, just needing final edits. Simultaneously, the inflow of observations and thoughts never stopped (I am thankful for this). So a mental traffic jam occurred. On one side, incessant mental downloads knocked on my brain waiting to be unfurled and on the other side half-written notes awaited attention. And there I was crushed in the middle…wanting to publish when my personal standards had been met. This act of turning off the publishing faucet created a creativity backlog so instead of flowing, my words felt like a tangled mess on my Notes app.

I’ve been learning prototyping tools and mindsets over the last couple of weeks. Today I realized that the prototyping mindset applies even to my writing. A prototyping mindset frees startups to experiment in front of potential users without being ashamed of failures and imperfections. The prototype only has one goal: learning. So it’s developed just enough to gain learnings and not an ounce more. Prototypes aren’t meant to be perfect, they are meant to be iterative. Each prototype a fertilizer for the next.  

The act of writing over the last year has been learning in motion for me. I write about this and then about that. An addition here and a deletion there. Sometimes poetic and sometimes prose but always a learning. When I stopped posting, I stopped learning. The desire for better got in the way of doing.

Thinking like a prototyper, I might have published more. Published more imperfect work that would have been enough to get the point across and taught me lessons not only for my writing but also other work and life. This writing isn’t meant to be perfect; it’s meant to teach me something and be of use to others. One prototyped post at a time.

“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”― Vincent Van Gogh: Dutch painter

#64: Walking with fear

Just because we want to do something in life doesn’t mean it can’t scare us. Fear might make an appearance exactly because we want to do this thing. But fear is also a broad word that covers a large terrain. Is this thing truly dangerous or are we afraid of the odds and the possibilities ahead? Are we afraid of failure, are we unsure of what to do next, are we lonely in our pursuit, do we wonder if we have the stamina to get to the finish line, or do we fear that life as we know it will change beyond recognition? It can be hard to know what’s beneath the resistance. It could be one of these things or several, or perhaps something entirely different.

We often look away from fear because not only is it hard to face, it can also be hard to understand. It’s complex and a shapeshifter. One day the fear shows us one side of the story and just when we think we’ve nailed it and addressed the cause for unease, it starts reflecting a different shape and color. How much time can one spend trying to understand their fear and resistance? We can live in our minds and keep analyzing till the end of time; it may not help but it will certainly exhaust us. We can’t look away though and keep doing what we were doing. Tuning things out and turning away our attention means we’re resisting the emerging future.

The only real antidote to fear is action. Small, imperfect, sometimes tear-filled and anxiety-ridden action. It’s not to say that another flavor of this exact same fear won’t return but imperfect action is the only way the world and lives are built. We’re all like that little child—first tentative and maybe afraid of the new face in front of us but then as we start interacting with them, the fear dissipates.

Before we act, it helps to look at the fear directly to try and see what part of us it’s trying to protect. This is different from analyzing or problem solving. The goal here is to create a silent space and direct attention to whatever wants to surface today. As it is. With zero judgment. When I’m really fearful though, it’s harder to sit in silence but easier to move in it. A moving meditation like a walk, swim, row, yoga or even slow improvisational dance makes this inquiry more bearable. But we can’t just stay in inquiry-mode; the key is to move ahead and take action holding our fear’s hand knowing that tomorrow, it might tell us yet another story and make us taste yet another bitter flavor.

In my most recent walk with fear, I noted that life is asking me to be a certain type of vessel for its work…and I’ve resisted and crumbled repeatedly. Silence allowed me to pick up those pieces, re-tape them to create that beaten up and patched-up vessel so life can start flowing through me again.

Life will be full of these fear-filled speedbumps, especially when we really want to do something.

“I’m a spring leaf trembling in anticipation of full growth.”― Maya Angelou: poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist.

#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.