Archives for January 2018

There is a learning that happens that’s deeper than stuff. Past all the information, and beyond all the experiences. There is a learning that goes to the formation of a person. The stuff of character. Who they are and how they will be in the world.

It’s happening all the time, but where? Who is deemed responsible in society for this formation of character?

If institutions are defined as an organizing of people for a particular purpose, it was once the institution of the family that was deemed responsible. Then, more broadly a community. Institutions of religion have played a role. Then the public schools as an extension of governance. And always the circle of friends have had an impact. There was a reason we weren’t supposed to “fall in with the wrong crowd.”

This kind of early learning has a name: Indoctrination.

Indoctrination has garnered a negative connotation in recent years, and many institutions have attempted to develop pluralistic environments based on no underlying framework in particular. But there are repercussions.

We are easily mired in the evils of each day. We desire quick judgement, punishment, and a continual cleansing of our communities from the ills that we see in them. We search for righteousness while clinging to whatever freedom of choice we feel we have, often in direct contradiction to the righteousness we seek.

This is happening because we are severed from our root. There are only two things that can happen from here out.

We either continue on the current path or we are grafted back into the tree from which we came.

I was at the mixing session for the new Holler Jake (@hollerjakemusic) record when the engineer began to turn down all the lights in the room. I looked up from where I was to make sure everything was okay. The engineer said, “Sorry man, I just had to make it a little darker. I hear better that way.”

The human body is an amazing creation. It does things on its own. Cut off one sense, and other senses are amplified. But what happens in the reverse, when one sense is over stimulated?

We live in a world that feeds our sense of sight. Images are everywhere, and videos are coming at us from every possible outlet. We are easily drawn to both. But we lose something as a result. Our ability to listen plays second fiddle to the visual stimulus (not to mention smell or taste or touch). Words begin to matter less than pictures or imagery.

We see this happening, and wonder why.

I ran a little experiment. I went into the studio to practice some tap dancing. I spent a few minutes practicing in front of the mirror (a common practice for dancers). Then I turned away, closed my eyes and practiced some more. Everything was different. The shift was dramatic. What I concentrated on changed.

Tap dancers are percussive dancers. We value the sounds we generate. But with a lot of recent energy spent on developing online content like this one I seem to have shifted focus towards how things are presented. My natural disposition to focus on what I sounded like had yielded. Not good.

So I closed my eyes. After a few minutes, my hearing came back to life, and so did my dancing. The shift was dramatic. What I concentrated on changed.

Maybe we all need some time to close our eyes.

Shadows are interesting. They have a reputation of being related to darkness, evil, mystery, etc., but not always. The common phrase, “they cast a long shadow,” has to do with a person’s reach and influence, but is used most commonly after someone has past away. The shadow cast by a tree provides cover from the heat of the sun. We give the shadows cast by trees a different word – we call it shade.

In more recent years shade has taken on a negative connotation, too. To “throw shade” is to talk trash about a friend or acquaintance. When someone throws shade they publicly denounce or disrespect someone, in such a way that onlookers understand the thrower (not the recipient) to be the uncool party.

Regardless of context, or popular vernacular the words remain.

Shadows. Shade.

They are the same and essentially do the same thing. They cover.

There will be times when we can find cover in a shadow. We can cool off in the shade. When we are in the shadow we should use the time to rest, prepare, practice, and learn, for there will be a time when the shadow is lifted, and we are sent out into the light. Then we will be the ones casting the shadow.

I had a recent moment of revelation when watching the documentary, I Called Him Morgan, about jazz trumpeter and composer Lee Morgan. The moment occurred during an interview with composer and saxophonist Wayne Shorter. Recounting his time with Morgan while in the studio for a series of quintessential recordings for Blue Note Records, Shorter describes their approach:

“We were recording, knowing that what we were making would last forever.”

Forever. That’s a long time.

I wondered, “Is there anything that I do right now that I believe will last forever?” I quickly realized that a few things have conspired to severely minimize the extent to which I approach things with the idea permanence. I remember it being different. I used to think about things that would last a long time. What changed? Consumerism? The impermanence of technology? A hi focus on process? Is this just part of growing older?

It might take a while for me to find the answer to that question. In the meantime I’m thankful for Wayne’s reminder. Thinking in the long term is thinking across the generations. It’s thinking about the effect of what your making. It will change the way you make things, and what you make. It already has for me.

Some streaks go the distance. The first 21 days of a new habit, new route to work, new personal routine, workout, or eating habit, are often the hardest. But if the goal is to make something permanent, then the first 21 days is just the beginning.

A few weeks ago I started a personal challenge after reading this blog post by Seth Godin. My personal challenge was to begin writing daily again (I used to, but had stopped). I set a reasonable bar for the content: One single concise thought per day. It didn’t have to be an earth shattering treatise, or ground breaking theory, but rather a clear thought on something that I thought was relevant and might resonate with others. I could do this.

I’ve missed a few days.

So, what happens when I miss a day or two on a daily challenge?

Past: I used to fall off completely, beat myself up about not being good enough, and once unable to return to the challenge at all, chalk up the entire endeavor as a failure of will, effort, skill, or endurance. It was all my fault. I was a failure.

Present: Enter grace. Grace doesn’t change the bar. Nor does it adjust the daily nature of the challenge or the fact that a day was missed. Instead, it intercedes before my missing a day turns into a personal condemnation. Grace says, the fact that I missed a day isn’t necessarily a reflection of my core nature. I am not a failure or fundamentally flawed for missing a day of writing. With some clarity, I notice what might have caused the miss – extra work, lack of rest, not planning well ahead of time, or not noticing some free time during the day I could have taken advantage of. I take note, again, with no condemnation. Then my focus turns to the next day. This now takes all of two minutes.

Grace is amazing.

 

You can tell when someone isn’t paying attention. When they are distracted while you’re in their company. You can sense a shift. Something is different about them. Something changes in how you are around them.

There was a time when it was easier to tell whether the distraction was something major (a loved one’s illness or death, financial burdens, etc.), something less so (waiting on an important response, daily work, etc.), or something minor (“I just posted this picture online and am wondering what the response is”).

Today, our level of distraction is high. How many ongoing conversation are you currently having? I have 5, open ended, never finished, conversations that take some attention away from whatever I’m doing right now.

Close the loop. Say, “until next time,” or “to be continued.” Hi-five at the end of a conversation. Send a smilie face. That way everyone knows the engagement for the time being is done, finished, complete. Your full attention may turn towards the next engagement at hand.

If you can tell when someone else is not fully there, they can do the same with you. And you know how the I’m-here-but-I’m-really-not vibe makes you feel. Let’s not be that person. Let’s be present, and if it’s not possible, let’s be honest about it. That’ll help us all realize what it is we’re actually caring about.

I walk on stage and it’s time to perform. The audience expects that i know what I’m doing, and show them. This is all correct. However, on a macro level, this heightens the value of confidence and familiarity while diminishing the value of questioning and surprise discovery. It becomes more important to be well rehearsed than open to possibilities.

The more “professional” opportunities I embark on, the more I miss the questioning that leads to learning, and the moments of discovery.

Creativity mandates a time and space for questioning and discovery. It is the beginner’s mind – curious, open, questioning – that plays well in that space. It is in the disposition of the beginner that the next bit of information is freely offered, understanding and knowledge easily engendered, and wisdom faithfully cultivated for the next step in the journey.

There are easy ways to get attention. Be the fastest, strongest, or loudest. This works in sports, arts, and business. You’ll impress people with your super human speed and strength, and be sure to be heard and seen with your loudness.

But while you zoom by you might miss something beautiful. Your display of strength might cultivate a spartan culture. And your loudness might silence other valuable voices.

Being fast, strong, and loud aren’t inherently bad, but maybe it’s worth taking a moment to slow down, have a soft touch, and just listen every once in while.