Category Archives: clear seeing

Big Picture vs Finish Line – Binary Learning Styles

Insect or Dry Leaf? - FlickrLearning, at its core, is processor-intensive for people.

While some people get really good at hiding the turning of their gears, others need to collaborate. Some of us can paint canvases of ideas and extrapolate from the tiniest bit of information, out toward a grand plan or strategy. Others of us find details within the grand plan no one else would consider worth focusing on, and pull at the thread until the problem unravels into its tiniest constituent parts.

This extrapolation or reduction process can be seen, in part, to be a function of lateralization of  brain function. Which camp most people fall into can be determined in part by their cognitive style – which side of their brain is dominant most often, and for which parts of their personal process.

Do I need to keep worrying about this?

Is what I’m working on finished? Was there an appropriate finish line to begin with? Do I know enough? Is this grade acceptable?

Left-brain-centric folks often take this track for learning. There’s process here – and it doesn’t mean ignorance of the importance of details. However, there’s also a lot of room for omission, where details are perceived to be unnecessary or do not immediately add a step down the path to completion. This can also lead to cognitive dissonance – a break in sequential  logic where details perceived to relate directly to one another refuse to get along with process.

Left-brain logic is often subtractive, reducing problems to their most granular

Do I have all the details I need?

What’s the big picture? Do I know all the important bits? How will this affect everyone involved? How do I know what an acceptable grade is?

This holistic, detail-oriented style of creative problem solving is often attributed to right-brain-centric thinkers. Broadly, it fits the Dreyfus model of skill acquisition better than reductive reasoning – but may not be applicable to other, more framework based learning styles. These thinkers tend to be concerned with filling in the entire puzzle before solving the problem – as, many of them will say, once you have all the information, many problems solve themselves.

Right brain logic is additive – like building a jigsaw out of information to create patterns and finding symbolic meaning in groupings, rather than in single instances of data.

Both styles of learning are discovery processes, and are two sides of an important coin.

And – because I’m a right-brain-centric thinker, I feel the need to add that this is a sliding scale, not a pair of poles. It also doesn’t directly tie into personality type – those falling into the intuitive category on the Myers-Briggs Typology Indicator may well be left-brain-centric, but express in a non-linear manner.

No matter your personal style or learning method, knowing and consciously playing toward your cognitive style can help you solve bigger problems faster.

Where do you fall on the extrapolative/reductive reasoning scale?

Photo by Yogendra Joshi.

 

Rework, or the Humility of Saying “Well, That Effort Sucked.”

I feel like I should preface this post by saying that this isn’t a post about the book Rework.  While I’m sure it’s an excellent book, and probably covers ideas worth thinking about here on Thoughtwrestling, I really wanted to talk about … well, rework.

As in, “having to do something over again, because it wasn’t done properly the first time.”

img "dumpsters" courtesy sundstrom on sxc

As in “Epic Fail. You lose. Do over.”

Which is not really as fun a subject as reimagining the entire Western workplace, but it’s probably still a worthy subject for discussion.

I’m thinking about rework for a reason right now.

First, in my efforts to finish the novel I started as part of National Novel Writing Month, I’ve recognized that there is a serious story flaw  that begins early on in my initial draft.  As much as I admire the “just churn out prose without regard for quality” ethos of NaNoWriMo, I’ve realized that I need to go back and fix the problem, and it’s probably going to involve wholesale rewriting large sections of the piece.

Which is kind of depressing, despite March being National Novel Editing Month.

In a more practical vein, I had a home improvement project that I started last spring, and let linger in the 95% complete phase for almost a year.  It involved laying laminate flooring through most of the common areas of my house.  Last weekend I decided to finally finish it, and guess what?

There were several places where I had to redo work I’d already completed. ( The knowledge that some of the work was going to have to be redone may have had something to do with my major case of procrastination on the project.)

There is something uniquely disheartening about rework.  It’s an acknowledgement that our first effort was not quite up to snuff.  It feels a bit like running in place. Perhaps it’s good for our cardiovascular fitness, but it certainly feels like negative progress.  We want to be closer to done, and rework means we are farther than we thought.

Considering the effort it often takes to convince ourselves that we’re fit for the job at hand, and really capable of producing quality work, that can be a hard blow to our egos.  Fortunately, our egos are usually a mortal enemy to really good creative work anyway, so any blow to our ego is usually a net gain for our creative efforts.

I think that we underestimate the value of craft in creative work.  And craft implies rework, because no one starts out at mastery.  We all start out as apprentices, work our way through journeyman status, and if we’re lucky and work hard at our craft, eventually achieve mastery.

But the siren song of the natural adept, the savant, the gifted genius–it’s tempting, isn’t it? Glory without effort.  Art without craft.

I think it’s also largely bull hockey, to put it politely.

Part of wrestling our ideas into reality is admitting defeat.  Some ideas can’t stand up in the cold light of day outside our fecund brains.

Sometimes you have to admit you got pinned and pushed out of the ring.  You tapped out.

The ability to put that round behind you and move on to the next battle is often what separates a contender from a coulda-been.

Is Your Fear Holding Your Imagination Hostage?

As I’m plowing through the third week of NaNoWriMo, I’ve been surprised at how difficult it has been to pull scenes, characters and settings out of my imagination.  It’s a bit rusty, and the struggle to apply some creative WD-40 to those mental cogs got me thinking.

img courtesy bizior on sxc

We focus a lot here on the cognitive and physical blocks to clear thinking and creativity.  Sometimes, though, the blocks are fears tied to painful memory or our tendency to imagine a distinctly unpleasant future.

Ironically, sometimes it’s those of us with the most vivid natural imagination that sometimes find it difficult to access that imagination, due to some traumatic or difficult experience in the past.  Additionally, those of us with overactive imaginations sometimes tend to find that we often scare ourselves by mentally projecting worst case scenarios based on realistically harmless situations.

If you’re the grown-up equivalent of Ralphie Philips, you may find yourself replaying your most difficult and painful moments over and over in your head.  Or you may find yourself instantly imagining a fiery crash and a mournful funeral every time your spouse checks a text message while driving.

To avoid that unpleasant situation, some of us shut down our own imaginative capacity substantially, making it difficult to think creatively when it’s required or desirable.

There’s actually a psychological reason for that. Replaying is one way your psyche builds up emotional resistance to those memories.  It’s sort of like exposing yourself to small children to build up your immune system.

However, that explanation is no fun when your imagination has been effectively hijacked by your worst experiences and fears.

One approach, if it’s primarily past memories that are causing the block, is therapy or other emotional healing.  Bringing about a creative renaissance by regaining access to the naturally curious, imaginative child-like parts of your mind is one of the goals of the work of John Bradshaw as well as the well-known 12 steps program.

Another approach is to embrace the fear, and build up a resistance to it.  This is often more helpful if you tend to imagine catastrophe around every corner.

Some of the greatest artists and writers in history managed to work around this particular mental block by embracing the dark side of their imagination.  Stephen King alone has become an icon in pop culture by embracing his tendency to let his imagination automatically go to the worst case scenario, regardless of how impossible or horrifying that worst case scenario might be.

Do you struggle with an imagination that’s sometimes a little too powerful? What tricks have you learned to harness it?

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An exercise to develop your observational skills

Two words:  Photoshopped images.  They’re like Where’s Waldo for adults or a Web version of One of These Things Is Not Like The Other.  It’s amazing how much photo manipulation can be done to an image to achieve a desired effect.  You can make people fatter, thinner, taller, shorter, prettier, uglier… you get the idea.  Guess what:  there’s an easy and fun way to use these shenanigans to regularly work on your power of observation.

Powerful observational skills help you see the reality of a situation.  They are also very important in doing creative and problem solving work.  You need to be able to detect differences, find patterns and see what most people don’t see.

Seth Godin displayed an image in a recent blog post that helps to show (literally) this point.  The image, a side-by-side comparison of two photos of a model, originated at the Ann Taylor website.  Seth linked to it from the PhotoshopDisasters website.  I’m going to show it below as a means of talking about the value of clear seeing.

model

When I first looked at the two photos, I really couldn’t tell much difference between the two of them.  The model’s face and arms look about the same in both photos.

After looking some more, I found two major differences between the two photos:

  1. The natural wrinkles and creases in the model’s top and pants have been deemphasized and smoothed out in the photo on the right.  Which leads to the next observation…
  2. The model’s waist has been reduced to unnatural proportions.  Check the space between the arms and torso of the model and you’ll see the difference.  Also, there’s some additional shading around the model’s right hip to help intensify the illusion.

This example is not a terribly serious one and it may not have concrete value in its own right.  And it’s mild compared to some of the photo editing that happens.

But, if for fun you decide to look around for Photoshopped images and try to get better at spotting the manipulation, you’ll be exercising your clear seeing muscles.  There’s plenty of ways to do it, too.

The next time you have five minutes to spare and you want to practice one of those skills, find a magazine that features lots of models and see if you too can spot the Photoshopping.

For that matter, Where’s Waldo is still a viable option.

Over to you:  do you have any killer tips for improving your observational skills?


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Editing is Not Censoring

img "shhhh!" courtesy bewinca on sxc

Let’s just say, right up front, I’m a big fan of editing.  I believe it’s an extraordinarily important, frequently undervalued part of the creative process.

That said, Jordan Cooper’s recent blog post on Eliminating Your Internal Broadcast Delay did a great job of reminding me why you don’t try to edit and write at the same time.

I think it’s important to note the differences between your inner Editor (who you should encourage when it’s time to edit), your inner Critic (who can be helpful when accessed appropriately), and your inner Censor (who is a useless pain in the arse).

For the sake of example, let’s just eavesdrop on the three for a moment, shall we?

Critic: Okay, that first sentence isn’t quite working.  It feels cumbersome when I try to read it out loud.

Editor: Yup.  We need to eliminate at least one adverb, and possibly break it into two separate sentences.

Censor: Geez, can’t you recognize a run-on sentence? What was the point of all that? Walk away from the keyboard, loser!

Okay, that’s kind of extreme.  How about these examples?

Critic:  That’s a really nice image there. I’d love to see you expand on that.

Editor:  This passage is a little fuzzy. Can you add a concrete illustration?

Censor:  Vague much? Seriously–nobody cares about this. Stop wasting everyone’s time.

Your Critic’s job is to review the overall impression of the piece, or at least major sections or elements.  The Critic is giving you a subjective, emotional reaction to point out what’s working (or what’s not.)

Your Editor’s job is to make the Critic’s feedback actionable.  The Editor takes the realization that a section or an element needs improvement, and turns it into concrete, specific suggestions for improvement.

Your Censor’s job is to protect you.  He (or she) is just going about it all wrong.

Unlike your Editor and your Critic, who provide rational (if sometimes subjective) feedback on your creative rough work, your Censor isn’t rational or constructive.

To borrow Jordan’s “corporate suit” metaphor, the Censor is all about risk management.  But to put a kinder slant on that part of you, your Censor is opposed on general principle to the emotional risks of your creative output.

The Censor’s job is to shut down and shut up your inner Creator.  Putting yourself out there for the world to see and respond to (or not) is an emotionally risky endeavor.  In many ways, it’s like an open invitation for intimacy presented to the general public.  Creative work is putting your heart on a platter and serving it up like an hors d’oeuvre.

It’s only natural that some part of you is deeply uncomfortable with that idea.

I’d like to dive deeper into all this–for instance, tackling ways to subdue the Censor.  But for now, I think it’s helpful to listen to the tone, purpose and content of your inner voice as you’re making a second (or third, or later) pass over your creative rough output.  Is it specific and actionable? Is it subjective and tonal, but constructive? Or is the point of your inner critique simply to convince you to commit the whole thing to File 13?

If it’s the last one, your best response is to ignore it.


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Clear seeing – pattern recognition

pattern recognitionRecognizing patterns is a key component of creative thinking. Being able to compare situation A with situation B or process 10 with process 20 allows you to use metaphors, solve problems and generate great ideas.

If you understand how something that works well can be applied to different situations, you’re a step ahead of the game.

In order to recognize patterns, you need to observe things widely but carefully while letting your imagination run through your knowledge, much like how a computer scans through millions of fingerprints until it finds a match.  Pattern recognition is a key enabler for innovation, after all and innovation brings great new things to life.

Here’s an interesting primer article about pattern recognition from a few months ago.  You really should take a look at it if, in true thoughtwrestling style, you want to improve your thinking and your ability to take action.

Here are a few key points from that article:

  • We need the ability to predict the future based on prior knowledge and behavior patterns.  In many cases, it’s very accurate – we know that almost everyone will stop at a stop sign.
  • Also key is the ability to make sense of what we experience.
  • Being aware of how your mind works helps, although much of this information processing happens at the subconscious or unconscious level.

Please read the pattern recognition article.  It’s a little heavy, but it’s good stuff.  It’s part of a larger, valuable series on 21st century skills.

Are you able to see the patterns hiding in front of your eyes?  Better yet, have you seen a pattern out there that other people haven’t?  Why not share your insights in the comments section?

Image by centralasian

Slices of Time

I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon lately while working.

As a full-time freelancer, my clients expect me to track my time fairly and explain how long different tasks took to accomplish. We generally don’t do this when we work as a salaried employee somewhere. Our managers assign some tasks and vague deadlines, we get things done by the deadline and it is assumed that the time allotted was completely filled with the work.

In reality, of course, the typical 8-hour salaried workday could contain an hour or two of “nonproductive” time: meetings, coffee breaks with coworkers, surfing the web, straight-up goofing off. And when you are approaching the end of a typical work period – ten minutes before lunch hour or the end of the day – that time is often nonproductive because there is “no point” in starting a task and breaking it off mid-thought.

As a freelancer, the workday (and the concept of productive time) is more fluid. I account for my time in 15-minute increments. During a typical day I may work a couple hours in the morning, do some housework or family stuff at mid-day, a few hours in the afternoon interrupted by breaks, maybe some time in the evening. Some days I might not have billable time at all. As long as the client is in the loop and targets are hit, no one is too concerned. Some clients expect me to work when they work; others just ask when I am available

The phenomenon I’ve noticed is this: when I prepare to do some work, I often don’t start until the clock reads a time that works neatly with my 15-minute intervals. In other words, if I check the clock and it’s 2:05, I will usually kill time until 2:15 and then start.

Why?

After all, it doesn’t take a genius to stop and start a stopwatch, like a chess timer, to precisely track one’s billable time. But, as Scott McCloud might point out, the human brain loves symmetry and routine. We express time in shorthand every day, rounding up or down to say that it is “quarter to three” when it is actually 2:40. That’s fine for telling a stranger the time; but for billing a client, we want to be more precise.

What disturbs me a little about the time-killing is that it feels like a bit of a waste; all those moments can add up. But I also don’t like feeling like a slave to conditioning. As a Buddhist, I am always supposed to live and work in the present moment.

I am reminded of a book that I loved when it was published in 1993: Einstein’s Dreams, by Alan Lightman. It is a speculative novel about the early life of Albert Einstein, when he was still working as a patent clerk, and the dreams that led him to formulate the theory of relativity. Surrounding the vignettes of Einstein’s waking life are brief, journal-like descriptions of parallel worlds in which time operates differently- or rather, is perceived differently- than it is in ours.

Time is something that can be both absolute and relative: it is measured in tiny increments by apparently infallible atomic clocks, but it is also experienced differently from person to person, and from day to day (or even minute to minute) by the same person. Productivity- the amount of work performed in a span of time- can be relative as well.

Suppose a client tells me that every instance of the word “the” in a 200 page document must be changed to “thy.” I spend a couple of hours scouring the document and changing every instance. Was that a productive use of my time? No; the find-and-replace function in any word processor would have taken seconds, and would have probably been more accurate.

I think that productivity is what we feel when we apply our minds to something that challenges us, no matter how long the task takes. It’s not about how quickly we resolved the incoming call or made the fast food. It’s about the outcome of those actions.


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A Way Past “I Don’t Feel Like It” to “Getting Things Done”

Ah, creative types.  We’re a neurotic bunch, aren’t we?

One of the most common hiccups in the creative process is procrastination.  Why is it so tempting to put off what needs doing?

For several years now, a common theory or practice that gets recommended to help creative people get past procrastination is David Allen’s Getting Things Done (GTD) program.

The central thesis of GTD is “get your ‘stuff’ out of your head, into a trusted system that breaks it down into simple tasks, and then start knocking out tasks.”  Which works beautifully.  When you actually do it.

img courtesy SXC

But what about when you can’t seem to get yourself to start putting your stuff into your trusted system?  Where do you find the motivation to get things done?  Is the procrastination creatives are so prone to really just simply a function of overwhelm and too many inputs, or could there be something more to it?

For several years now, I’ve been practicing (off and on) an American version of two complementary Japanese therapy forms called Constructive Living.  Dr. David K. Reynolds spent years in Japan studying Morita and Naikon, two practices used to treat what the Japanese called shinkeishitsu neurotics.  People whose thoughts are stuck in a self-centered, somewhat narcissistic pattern to the extent it was sapping their motivation for living.  He combined and modified the two for Western culture, and the result was Constructive Living.

Morita is based on the idea that you can’t change your feelings by force of will, but feelings follow behavior.  So if you simply accept your feelings, move on, and do what needs doing, very often your feelings will move to a healthier, more positive place all on their own.  ”Behavior wags the tail of feelings.”  Morita is the active half of CL.  Naikon is based on the idea that we tend to ignore everything that is going right, the ways that individuals and the universe support and provide for us, and only focus on what’s gone or going wrong.  Naikon is the meditative half of CL.

Here are the general guiding principles of Constructive Living:

  • You cannot control your feelings by an act of will.
  • Because you cannot control them you are not responsible for them.
  • You are always responsible for your actions.
  • Your feelings are useful and can teach you about what you want and what’s important to you.
  • All feelings fade over time unless re-stimulated.
  • We are not separate; we “inter-are.” We are all interrelated.
  • The Universe supports us in ways which we often do not see.
  • The optimum way of living is to find your purpose, hold to it and act in a way which will lead you to it.

GTD is a great methodology for the HOW part of doing what needs doing.  For me, CL has been a great means to unlocking the WHY part of doing what needs doing.

For me, I struggled with GTD because there was one big thing between me and actually working the system:  motivation.   I’d start out strong, but be unable to maintain my motivation to keep doing the next Next Action.

My neurotic, “the world is out to get me and my past sucks” thinking kept me stuck in “but I don’t feel like doing it!” land.  And as an Enneagram 4 and an INFP (both “feeling” based types), it was really tough for me to get past “I don’t feel like creating right now!”

Naikon meditation makes you consciously, intentionally focus on the ways that God/the universe/reality/other people are supporting you.  It corrects the skewed vision that we naturally fall into, where we hyperfocus on what goes wrong (the car that cut you off in traffic) and completely miss what went right (your alarm worked perfectly, as it does nearly every morning).

Keeping a small laminated card with the CL principles I’ve outlined above with me, whenever I would find myself getting bogged down in “I don’t feel like doing it” land, I would tell myself “You’re feeling tired/angry/lonely/sad.  Okay.  Now what needs doing?”

And invariably, I found that just doing something productive would end up vastly improving my mood, and creating the motivation to want to do the next task.

So if you’ve tried doing GTD (and been embarrassed by mostly failing to get things done), maybe it’s not you.  Maybe you need something to clear the decks in your brain first.  Constructive Living has worked really well for me.  You might give it a try.

Here are a few resources to get started:

http://www.constructiveliving.org/

http://www.todoinstitute.org/cl.html

http://www.theconstructedlife.com/constructive-living/

Amazon Links: Constructive Living (I also really like Thirsty, Swimming in a Lake)

Prajna and the art of clear seeing

You can’t write well when the sun is shining on your laptop screen; the glare prevents you from seeing the words.

clear seeing prajna
This phrase popped into my head as a little writing exercise. I was observing something I’d seen before on many occasions:  direct sunlight tends to make a computer screen hard to see. The observation provided a mental stepping stone to another concept that we haven’t talked about much on Thoughtwrestling, yet I would consider it to be one of the most important attributes of the thoughtwrestler:  clear seeing.

The Tibetians have a term that they use for clear seeing: prajna. It’s not a term that you’ll see very often in Western culture. It’s often used to refer to wisdom or that ability to see and understand the world as it really is.

Here are two recent examples of the use of prajna that I’ve come across this year:

Seth Godin used the term prajna in his book Linchpin. He defined it as clear seeing or seeing the world as it truly is.

Photographer Cynthia Graham defines prajna in a blog entry:

Prajna is the Tibetan word for clear seeing, the innate intelligence we all possess deep inside that allows us to look at ourselves and others with humility and compassion, but without judgments of good or bad attached to those observations.

Prajna is a more spiritual or philosophical term than I had originally envisioned as describing the thoughtwrestler’s ability to see clearly, but it does cover a lot of the same ground. Still, in the interest of being precise, I’m going to elaborate more on what I meant by clear seeing.

Wisdom is obviously a huge help in interpreting everything we see and experience in the world. It provides us with vocabulary, analogies, and patterns that we can interpret.

From the thoughtwrestler’s point of view, clear seeing is closer to what Seth Godin describes in his book. It’s the ability to look at situations and look past symptoms or red herrings to find the truth, the real situation and the real problem (or opportunity…) that presents itself.

Clear seeing allows you strip away the bullshit and get to the facts.   Clear seeing gets you to the root cause.  Clear seeing allows you to tell the world that the emperor has no clothes on.

How do you develop clear seeing, then?

Well, that’s probably a topic for a whole series of posts.

I think the best thing you can do, in general, is to have the courage to ask questions, even when it doesn’t seem make sense to do so.  Question the conventional, the accepted, the “common knowledge”.  Don’t be satisfied by the simple answers.

What do you do to see clearly?

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Image by Kanzeon Zen Center