Tag process

Filtered Reality & Happiness As A 2×2 – “If we believe we can learn from experience, can we also learn that we can’t?” …*

{ Filtered Reality & Happiness As A 2x2 } “If we believe we can learn from experience, can we also learn that we can’t?” ...* | rethinked.org

Screen Shot from Soyer & Hogarth’s article on HBR: Fooled By Experience

In a fascinating article titled Fooled by Experience, Emre Soyer and Robin M. Hogarth, whose research focuses on the psychology of judgment and decision making, highlight the perils of using past experience to guide future decision making without first critically examining the various lenses and biases from which we filter and learn from our experiences.

The problem is that we view the past through numerous filters that distort our perceptions. As a result, our interpretations of experience are biased, and the judgments and decisions we base on those interpretations can be misguided. Even so, we persist in believing that we have gleaned the correct insights from our own experience and from the accounts of other people.

In their article, Soyer and Hogarth examine three of the main filters that many of us use to frame and learn from our experiences — the business environment, the people around us, and ourselves. I was particularly interested in the points they raise about our bias for outcomes rather than processes in the business world.

{ CAPTURING PROCESS NOT JUST OUTCOMES }

In the business environment, the outcomes of decisions are highly visible, readily available for us to observe and judge. But the details of the decision process, which we can control far more than the result, typically don’t catch our attention. If the aim is to learn from experience—mistakes as well as successes—acknowledging that process is crucial.

We celebrate successes and condemn failures–a response that disregards the underlying causes.

The tendency to overreward the results of a decision and underreward its quality is known as the outcome bias.

This bias can influence our actions in subtle ways. A good outcome can lead us to stick with a questionable strategy, and a bad outcome can cause us to change or discard a strategy that may still be worthwhile. For example, in the NBA, coaches “are more likely to revise their strategy after a loss than a win—even for narrow losses, which are uninformative about team effectiveness,” a recent Management Science article shows.

[…]

By concealing the prevalence of failures, the environment makes it more difficult for us to learn from them. Instead, we are fooled into thinking that we have more control over success than we actually do.

Source: Fooled by Experience

This inequality between capturing outcomes versus capturing the decision making process is something that our team has been actively thinking about in our last few workshops. In fact, my explicit purpose in our last workshop was to capture the meta elements of what we were thinking about and considering as we were producing our prototypes. This desire to capture the more ephemeral aspects of the decision making process are linked to Daniel Kahneman’s acronym: WYSIATI – What you see is all there is. We are hardwired to respond to what we can see and tend to ignore the aspects of a situation that fall outside the filters for salience with which we approach that experience. Yet, as Soyer and Hogarth observe, the tendency to overreward the results of a decision and underreward its quality leads to failed opportunities for learning and improved future decision making. 

Head over to Harvard Business Review to read the rest of Soyer and Hogarth’s article and learn the techniques they recommend to help you uncover the real lessons experience offers.

{ HAPPINESS IS A 2×2 – THINK ABOUT ALL THE THINGS THAT YOU DON’T WANT & THAT YOU DON’T HAVE} 

Experience is very important, but not necessarily the experience that you have, but maybe sometimes the experience that you don’t have might matter a lot. Experience in general we know it’s very important, it’s how we understand what’s going on around us, it’s how we form our habits, it’s how we decide and make judgements. And sometimes the environment where we make decisions, where we operate is kind to us–it gives us all the information, all the feedback that we need abundantly, immediately. But sometimes, it’s wicked. The environment, when it’s wicked, it hides stuff from us, it filters out certain part of the information that is crucial for an accurate judgment and accurate decision making. And in those cases our experiences get biased, and this whole thing has adverse effects to our health, wealth and happiness. – Emre Soyer

After doing a quick Google search for Emre Soyer, I discovered the TEDxtalk he gave in 2013 in which he explores the importance of being attentive to the missing elements of our experiences. I was particularly struck by his ending observation, by way of a 1986 interview with Hillel Einhorn, which highlights the power and impact that shifting and questioning the filters we apply to our thinking can have on our happiness.

Now there are some interesting issues there about looking for evidence opposed or evidence about non-occurrences and this was brought home to me dramatically in a Chinese restaurant one night. After the meal, I bought the usual fortune cookies and I opened the cookie and read my fortune, it was a very interesting one. It said: don’t think about all of the things that you want that you don’t have, think of all the things that you don’t want that you don’t have. Well that kind of stopped me dead. I don’t know who writes these things but this is a very interesting one. So, I immediately draw a 2×2 table: want, not want, have, not have. And of course we think about what we want that we have, what we want that we don’t have; what we don’t want that we have; but rarely do we ever think about what we don’t want and what we don’t have. So, I’d like to use this example to point out that if the correlation between wants and haves is some notion of happiness, and because that don’t want and don’t have cell is so large, we are actually a lot more happier than we think we are.

-Hillel Einhorn, 1986

{ Filtered Reality & Happiness As A 2x2 } “If we believe we can learn from experience, can we also learn that we can’t?” ...* | rethinked.org

Happiness is a 2×2 – Screen Shot from Emre Soyer’s TEDxTalk at TEDxOZU

 

{ Stand by Your Choices } When the Going Gets Tough, Remember You Chose This …*

A few months ago, I shared a list of the top five things that walking 500 miles helped me understand in a deeper or different way. Here is a bit more context around the fourth lesson- stand by your choices– When the going gets tough, lean into the discomfort, after all, you’re the one that chose to put yourself in this situation

. . . *

I first discovered the notion of “leaning into discomfort” last year, from my father. In a spur of the moment decision that still baffles me I had committed to run a half-marathon. I printed a training schedule I found online, got a good pair of running shoes and motivated myself with the promise of New York’s best donuts (I stand by that claim) at Peter Pan after every run. I was soon forced by an interminable string of snowstorms to train indoors on a treadmill. Let’s be honest, running in place inside in bad lighting is far from a stimulating experience. I dealt with the drudgery of burning lungs, aching muscles and being forced to awkwardly stare at my wheezing tomato-red reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors strategically (perversely) placed in front of the treadmills by zoning out. I would pick a point on my shirt, somewhere near the collar, directly under my chin, stare at it in the mirror and blast music (or podcasts, thank you Debbie Millman) in my headphones to slowly force my mind out of the gym. My runs were a chore and while with time I came to appreciate and look forward to the way I felt after a long run, the act itself was something I just had to get through.

That changed when one weekend I visited my parents and went on a run with my father who is an avid runner. He told me to leave my music at home and said to focus instead on the way the air felt in my lungs, the crunch of the ground under my sneakers, the noise of the birds overhead–to lean into the experience, discomfort and all; to be fully present in the moment. This all sounded like a terrible idea but I trust and look up to him enough that I was willing to give it a try. It was on that run that my feelings about running started to change. I acquired a new appreciation for the act itself, I began to enjoy the feeling of running, not just the feeling that came when I stopped. There was still discomfort and pain but I discovered a strong sense of joy in those aches. This was my body, moving, strengthening and even though the process sometimes hurt, I felt incredibly excited by experiencing the fullness of the process.

I injured myself two weeks before the race and was told by my doctor that I had to stop running for a few months until I recovered. I’ve since given up on the idea of running a half-marathon but I’ve kept running. I don’t want to force myself to run in place on a treadmill for up to an hour and a half to reach a certain number of miles by race day, but I come alive when the weather is pleasant and I’m out for a run.

{ Stand by Your Choices } When the Going Gets Tough, Remember You Chose This ...* | rethinked.org - Photo: Elsa Fridman

Entering Galicia

 

The last stage of the Camino Frances goes through the luxuriant hills of Galicia. The second I crossed over into Galicia three things happened: I was awed by the breathtaking greens hidden and revealed by opaque layers of thick fog; it rained all day every day, and I came down with a massive cold. I’m not talking little seasonal sniffle, no, this was the real thing–mouth breathing, body aches, sore throat and fever. I tried to rally and thought about my father’s advice to embrace the fulness of each experience by leaning into all its components, including the uncomfortable ones. That got me through most of the first day but by the third day, walking from morning to mid-afternoon in torrential rain, slipping in mud, and lugging my heavy pack, I fell prey to whining and self-pity.

After spending the better part of the morning telling myself that this was awful, that I hated it, that it was the stupidest thing I had ever done, I was reluctantly forced to come to the unavoidable conclusion that I had no one to “blame” for this but myself. No one had made me walk, it had been my choice and it had been something I had really wanted, something I thought would be important. The mud, the rain, the cold, the constant running out of tissues and burning sore throat, all that was a consequence of a choice I had made. It was part of the package.

I have always been obsessed by notions of identity–who are we? how do we know? why does it matter?– There are so many layers to get lost in when trying to formulate a sense of the self. In the bustle of daily life it is so easy to avoid owning up to who we are by hiding behind habits, labels, complacency. We make excuses–we’re too tired, too busy, too stressed, we’d be/act differently if only… It’s astonishing what carrying all your belongings on your back will do to help you clarify things. In the end, when all the noise is removed and each day comes down to lacing up your boots and walking down the path you have chosen, the questions crystalize. Do you walk through the breathtaking landscapes but also the cow shit and the mud pits? Do you own your choice or not?

My walk helped crystalize some thoughts around selfhood, voice and experience that have been brewing in my mind for the past few years. I feel a bit vulnerable sharing this insight because it seems so definitive and if there is one thing I find ridiculous it’s certainties. But for me, at this stage in my life, at least, I reached the end of my walk and the conclusion that the measure of who we are comes down to wether or not we are willing to stand behind our choices.

In some way, choices are cheap– A or B, stripes or polka dots, adventure or safety. We may agonize for extended periods of time over which choice to make, but the actual decision takes only a moment. The real work comes after, will we reaffirm our decision each day and embrace the consequences or will we whine and blame and become alienated from ourselves and our experience in the process. It’s been said before, but there is an expiration date for blaming your parents and circumstances for wasting the numbered amount of moments you are given.

This is about taking ownership for the lives we live; it’s about living with intent, courage and perseverance. Do you want to go through life running in place in bad neon lighting, blasting music through your headphones until your mind is numb or do you want to live the fullness of who you are by accepting accountability for the decisions your make? It’s not our choices that define us, but our capacity and willingness to stand behind them.

{ Stand by Your Choices } When the Going Gets Tough, Remember You Chose This ...* | rethinked.org - Photo: Elsa Fridman

What the last 10 days of my Camino looked like, more or less.

 

Music As An Evolutionary Adaptation to Help us Overcome Cognitive Dissonance & Retain Contradictory Knowledge. …*

Music As An Evolutionary Adaptation to Help us Overcome Cognitive Dissonance & Retain Contradictory Knowledge. ...* |rethinked.org - photo: Elsa Fridman

Integrative Thinking, as Roger Martin defines it in his splendid book on the subject, The Opposable Mind: Winning Through Integrative Thinking, is:

The ability to face constructively the tension of opposing ideas and instead of choosing one at the expense of the other, generate a creative resolution of the tension in the form of a new idea that contains elements of the opposing ideas but is superior to each.

The cognitive dissonance we experience as we work our way through this tension often comes with a high level of emotional and cognitive discomfort. It’s painful–frightening even–to question the ‘truth’ and reality of our knowledge and beliefs. All too often, in an effort to rid ourselves of this highly unpleasant sense of unease, we disengage with one of the two elements procuding the dissonance; disregarding one idea or point of view to focus exclusively on the one that feels familiar and safe to us. In disengaging, we lose out on the vast possibilities of the tension. Not only is this a lost opportunity for us to grow as teams and individuals, it often holds a heavy social and human cost as we hold on to harmful and negative stereotypes and assumptions about who other people are and what their beliefs may be.

Just a few days ago, I read an intriguing theory from physicist and investigator of human cognitive functioning, Leonid Perlovsky, that suggests adding music to our Integrative Thinking toolbox as a coping strategy to stay in the uncomfortable, if highly productive, space of cognitive dissonance long enough to work through the tensions and derive the benefits. Music, according to Perlovsky, is an “evolutionary adaptation, one that helps us navigate a world rife with contradictions.”

The idea is that music – which can convey an array of nuanced emotions – helps us reconcile our own conflicted emotions when making choices. And the more diverse, differentiated emotions we possess, the more well-founded our decisions become. Whether it’s choosing to play with a toy or deciding to propose to a boyfriend or girlfriend, our research shows that music can enhance our cognitive abilities.

Thus, because we constantly grapple with cognitive dissonances, we created music, in part, to help us tolerate – and overcome – them.

This is the universal purpose of music.

Perlovsky backs up his theory by sharing some of the experiments he and his team have conducted on the subject. One of the experiments that he shares will be of particular interest to educators and integrative thinkers:

we gave a group of fifteen-year-old students a typical multiple choice exam, and asked them to record the difficulty of each question, along with how much time it took them to answer each one.

It turned out that more difficult questions were answered faster (and grades suffered), because students didn’t want to prolong unpleasant dissonance of choosing between difficult options. However when Mozart’s music played in the background, they spent more time on the difficult questions. Their scores improved.

Source: How music helps resolve our deepest inner conflicts

{ Kintsugi } A Beautiful Visual Metaphor To Help You “Fail Forward” …*

When the Japanese mend broken objects, they fill in the cracks with gold. They believe that when something is damaged, it becomes more beautiful.”

I came across this delightful quote earlier this week while reading an article about failing forward. These days, with the growing popularity and accessibility of methodologies like Design Thinking and Lean Startup, the concept of iteration–a slightly more glamorous variant of the term “failing forward”–has become increasingly mainstream. Given the critical role of failure in learning and innovation, I am all for this failure revolution. Yet, it is not failure for failure’s sake that we are celebrating but its transcendence. We try something; we fail; we pause and reflect on what we did and where we went wrong; and hopefully we are able to extract some valuable lesson(s) from the experience that will inform our decision-making and behavior in future scenarios.

The transcendence of failure–the movement from raw input (this does not work) to reflection (why did this not work?) to insight (this is where we went wrong/what we could have done differently), is a process. And all processes have an inherent emotional component that cannot be ignored or brushed aside. The emotional responses accompanying each failure will vary greatly based on the circumstances– from the inconsequential to the heartbreaking. The hardest failures to transcend, the ones that are most painful to reflect upon, work through and learn from are usually the ones that blur the boundaries between verb and noun–those instances where we find it difficult to separate our sense of self from our actions; where, “I failed” toes the line with, “I am a failure.”

On an intellectual level, it’s easy to tell oneself to reframe, to approach the failure as a learning opportunity, a gift in disguise, a growing pain. But having failed many times at many things, sometime rather catastrophically, I know all too well that in the midst of experiencing our most painful failures it can be extremely difficult to pay attention to our intellect. When you’ve spent a full week in the same pair of sweatpants unable to peel yourself off from your couch, it can be quite easy to become cynical about the idea of reframing failure. It may feel as though this particular failure is final, as though there is no redemption possible, no lessons to be learned; just a lifetime of mediocrity spent in your own failed company. I think that it is precisely in these times that the beautiful Japanese notion of kintsugi becomes a powerful aid and effective prompt to help us emotionally engage with the process of transcending failure.

What I find fascinating about the concept of kintsugi, which refers to the Japanese craft of fixing broken objects with gold or silver lacquer, is the fact that cracks and brokenness are highlighted and celebrated rather than dismissed or dissimulated. The broken object once repaired takes on a new value, becoming in some ways more appreciated than it was while intact.

I’ve been taking an online course taught by Brené Brown on the Power of Vulnerability in which she talks about the importance of finding good metaphors to talk about certain emotions–specifically shame–that we are incapable of speaking about on an intellectual level without our emotions taking over.

“People hear the word shame and they’ve got one of two responses; one, “I have no idea what you’re talking about and I’m pretty sure that happens to other people;” or two, “I know exactly what that is and I’m not talking about it.” We have a visceral reaction to the word shame.
Shame hates having words wrapped around it. When we speak shame, we cut it off at the knees. The reason metaphors are so helpful is because of our reactions to the word shame. And here’s the thing, if I talk to you intellectually about shame, I will lose you in about 10 minutes because you’ll know this is uncomfortable, it’s a little bit dark and it’s totally not relevant—”I don’t care what she’s saying.” It’s true if I intellectually talk to you about shame. If I walk you into shame, you’ll be like, “Oh hell yeah, this is relevant and I cannot hear a word you are saying because I am in shame.” Because shame is very much about the limbic system, it’s all about fight, flight and freeze. There’s no prefrontal cortex. If I’m staying up here in the prefrontal cortex, where we think, when that fight or flight system kicks in, our prefrontal cortex comes completely offline.”
-Brené Brown

I think kintsugi is an amazingly powerful visual metaphor to recall and focus on as we experience some of the most crushing and painful emotions that result from deep failures. The process of transcending failure is quite similar to the practice of repairing broken ceramic with golden bonding. The object having been repaired emerges more beautiful, more valuable than when it was intact. In the same manner to applying gold to the fragmented pieces, engaging in the process of transcending our failures allows us to grow, to come out stronger and wiser than before the failure.

Next time you find yourself unable to intellectually motivate yourself to engage with the process, I urge you to remember the beauty and the lesson of kintsugi.

Kintsugi: The Art of Broken Pieces from Greatcoat Films on Vimeo.

{ Keep Going } The First Rule of Anything Creative: Forgive Yourself For the Horror of the First Draft …*

Here’s a little creative inspiration for your Tuesday in the form of this lovely animation from The School of Life on the need to overcome “the horror of the first draft” and just keep putting in the work to slowly bridge the gap between our vision and what we are producing.

This video reminded me of Ira Glass’s advice:

“Nobody tells people who are beginners, and I really wish somebody had told this to me, is that all of us who do creative work, you know we get into it, and we get into it because we have good taste. But there’s a gap. For the first couple years that you’re making stuff, what you’re making isn’t so good. It’s not that great, it’s trying to be good, it has ambition to be good, but it’s not quite that good. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, your taste is still killer. And your taste is good enough that you can tell that what you’re making is kind of a disappointment to you, you know what I mean? A lot of people never get past that phase, a lot of people at that point they quit. And the thing I would just like to say to you with all my heart, is that most everybody I know who does interesting creative work, they went through a phase of years where they had really good taste and they could tell that what they were making wasn’t as good as they wanted it to be. They knew it fell short. It didn’t have the special thing that we wanted it to have. And the thing what to do is everybody goes through that. And for you to go through it, if you’re going through it now, if you’re just getting out of that phase, you’ve got to know it’s totally normal and the most important possible thing you can do, is do a lot of work. Do a huge volume of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week or every month you know you’re going to finish one story. Because it’s only by actually going through a volume of work that you’re actually going to catch up and close that gap. And the work you’re making will be as good as your ambitions. In my case, I took longer to figure out how to do this than anybody I’ve ever met. It takes a while. It’s going to take you a while. It’s normal to take a while and you just have to fight your way through that, ok?

– Ira Glass

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

rethink, work, create …*

Alberto Giacometti on Being In the World As A Rethinker …*

Alberto Giacometti on Being In the World As A Rethinker ...* | rethinked.org - Photo: Elsa Fridman

Naples, 2014 – Artist Unknown …*

 

I’ve been trying to get up earlier recently and to motivate myself to get out of bed before sunrise, I have made the first hour of my day all about play and reflection. I read books that are just for pleasure, I journal, I drink my coffee unhurriedly, I look out into the darkness and listen to the birds begin to stir while my cat purrs besides me. It’s splendid.

This morning I was reading some interviews with Alberto Giacometti, and found the following passage to express splendidly so many aspects of what it means to be in the world as a rethinker …* From being able to live comfortably with the unknown (and the unknowable); being willing to reconstruct anew one’s understanding each day; questioning one’s assumptions daily without letting ego or fear get in the way; not letting one’s ideas and work become too precious; to being able to appreciate the intrinsic joy and inherent rewards of the process. Hope you will be as inspired by this glimpse into Giacometti’s experience as I am 

I do not work to create beautiful paintings or sculpture. Art is only a means of seeing. No matter what I look at, it all surprises and eludes me, and I’m not too sure of what I see. It is too complex. So, we must try to copy simply in order to begin to realize what we are seeing. It’s as if reality were continually behind curtains that one tears away… but there is always another …always one more. But I have the feeling, or the hope, that I am making progress each day. That is what makes me work, compelled to understand the core of life. And to carry on, knowing that the closer one gets to the goal, the further it retreats. The distance between the model and myself tends to increase continually; the closer I get, the further away it moves. It’s an endless search. Every time I work I am prepared to undo without the slightest hesitation the work done the day before, as each day I feel I am seeing further. Basically I now only work for the sensation I get during the process. And if I am then able to see better, if as I leave I see reality slightly differently, deep down, even if the picture doesn’t make much sense or is ruined, in any event I have won. I have won a new sensation, a sensation I had never experienced before. 

Source: Why Am I A Sculptor? – An Interview with André Parinaud

. . . *

#MOMA100Days Project – A Bite-Sized Way to Play Creatively & Be Part of a Community That Celebrates Process …*

#MOMA100Days Project - A Bite-Sized Way to Play Creatively & Be Part of a Community That Celebrates Process ...* | rethinked.org  - Illustration by Elle Luna

Illustration by Elle Luna

“Anyone who is hungry to jump-start their creative practice, who is curious about being part of a community that celebrates process, and those who are busy with work and family commitments, but searching for a bite-sized way to play creatively.” – Elle Luna 

Does that sound like you? If so, you should consider participating in MOMA’s 100 Days project, which kicks off April 6th. The MOMA 100 Days project requires you to commit to performing a creative act of your choosing every day for 100 days. You then must photograph each of your creations and share them with the hashtag #MOMA100Days and another hashtag of your choosing so that your personal project can be viewed all in one place.

Here is how the endlessly fantastic Elle Luna describes the inspiration for the project to Tina Essmaker of The Great Discontent:

 A year ago, a group of us launched a social media version of a grad school project conceived by Michael Bierut, a prolific, talented designer, writer, and teacher. For years, he led graduate graphic design students at the Yale School of Art in a workshop that he called “The 100 Day Project.” The premise for Michael Bierut’s class was simple: each student chose one action to repeat every day for 100 days. For example, one student made a poster in under a minute every day for 100 days; another danced in public every day and made a video; another student, Rachel Berger, picked a paint chip out of a bag and responded to it in writing for 100 days.

Basically, if you can dream it, you can do it. The only premise? Participants have to do the same action every day for 100 days, and they have to document every instance of 100. Sounds totally cool, right? That’s what I thought when I first read about this project on Design Observer. Not only were the projects clever, but they also offered an opportunity to grow in one of the ways my friends and I were craving: discipline. The great surrender is the process; showing up day after day is the goal. For the 100-Day Project, it’s not about fetishizing finished products—it’s about the process.

A hundred days! I can recall the questions that raced through my mind before I decided to jump in: Can I handle it? Will I push through when my schedule is jammed? Will I share even when I can’t resolve a piece? Will I show up every day, even when it hurts—especially when it hurts? A group of us banded together and decided to share our projects on Instagram, tagging images with #the100dayproject. People of all ages joined in, and there was something very empowering about the accountability of doing the project alongside other people in a very public way via Instagram.

Source: Elle Luna: 100 DayProject + MoMA via The Great Discontent

What will you commit to creating for 100 days? Let us know …* 

#MOMA100Days Project - A Bite-Sized Way to Play Creatively & Be Part of a Community That Celebrates Process ...* | rethinked.org  - Illustration by Elle Luna

Illustration by Elle Luna

{ Start Walking } Rethinking Uncertainty …*

{ Start Walking } Rethinking Uncertainty ...* | rethinked.org

A few weeks ago, I shared a list of the top five things that walking 500 miles helped me understand in a deeper or different way. Here is a bit more context around the second lesson- start walking.

My biggest personal goal in walking the Camino Frances was to practice growing comfortable with uncertainty. My decision to walk the Camino had been very last minute and, frankly, when I set out I had no idea what I was doing (seriously– did you read my post about how it wasn’t until about 10 pm the night before I was setting out that I realized my sleeping bag wouldn’t fit in my pack?!), where I was going or how I would get there.

WHEN IN DOUBT, FIND A PLACE TO START & BEGIN 

Luckily for me, I got plenty of opportunities to practice being/thinking/doing uncertain. Each day was an unknown, which, of course, they always are, but the stakes felt a tiny bit higher when out on the road. Most days I didn’t know where I would end up or if I would find a place to sleep. I would just start walking and go from one yellow arrow to the next. I had bought a greatly detailed (if insufferably sentimental) guidebook and hoped it would get me to where I was going. It turns out however, that I didn’t even need the guidebook as there are yellow arrows pointing the way to Santiago all along the road. All I needed was to find the first arrow and go from there.

Picasso famously remarked, “To know what you’re going to draw, you have to begin drawing.” Drawing, walking, living–all require that one starts somewhere. Often, when we start, we don’t know what we will make, where we will go or whom we will become. We don’t know because we can’t know, because the acts of drawing, walking and living are transformative– we grow and change as we act. And while we may not know whom we will be at the end of our journey, we can be sure that we can make it the whole way one line/arrow/decision at a time.

BE AWARE OF HOW YOU FRAME UNCERTAINTY & RETHINK AS NEEDED

The second thing that I understood from my daily experiments in the uncertain, is that uncertainty is not an either-or proposition, it is a spectrum of options. This seems like an obvious statement, and perhaps it is to you, but whilst walking, I realized that I was unconsciously framing the idea of uncertainty as a highly reductive binary of what I could know, predict and affect versus utter catastrophe. It was a tremendously valuable insight as I realized that I hadn’t even been aware of how I was appraising the concept of uncertainty until I felt my unease and sense of impending doom relax and fade each time an unexpected outcome proved less than catastrophic (which they always did.)

Throughout my journey, I sometimes arrived in tiny towns where every last bed was occupied, but something always worked out–I slept on dusty mattresses on gym floors and wrestling mats in locker rooms. While neither of these options come close to my idea of an ideal place to sleep, I must say that those nights spent on gym floors were some of the best sleeps I had the entire journey and some of my fondest memories of laughs and bonding with fellow pilgrims. Not only was the uncertain and unexpected not catastrophic, it often proved delightful, better even than what I could have been certain of.

start, take a chance & rethink …*

David Shrigley on Trusting the Process, Experiencing Flow, & Showing Up To Do the Work No Matter What…*

Read a great interview with artist David Shrigley on Dazed yesterday and thought I’d share my favorite bits on the blog as they relate to several key ideas we’ve been exploring in our work and writing these past two years.

enjoy & rethink …*

FLOW – 

I think when there’s somebody who is going to come and take the drawings away on Monday and you still have 20 drawings to do that does tend to hinder the enjoyment of it – and that’s the situation I’m in right now! But, in essence, the moment when I’m working is still the moment when I feel most free in the eye of the storm that is around me. I feel very at peace when I’m working, it’s a very meditative and cathartic thing for me.

TRUST THE PROCESS – 

I tend to write lists of things that I’d quite like to make but I’ve no idea how they’ll resolve themselves. They’re usually a list of very banal things: for example, two things on my list today are the words “pissing” and “human heart”. I will interpret those two instructions as I see fit. Something will happen eventually but a lot of it gets discarded so I try not to put any pressure on one particular image. If you’re making something and you know that there’s a high probability that it’ll get thrown away, it gives you the ability to make something that isn’t contrived. Well, that’s the strategy.

* 

SHOW UP & DO THE WORK –

I have more successful days and less successful days but I don’t allow myself to have creative blocks because I don’t stop creating. Sometimes I make things that aren’t very good but my rules dictate that I make it anyway and just having that attitude seems to work. I still make the work even if I don’t want to. Somehow eventually something happens.

*

Source: David Shrigley: ‘I’m quite happy being a ponce!’ via Dazed, published October 24, 2014

Ernest Hemingway: “As long as you can start, you are all right. The juice will come.”

Ernest Hemingway: "As long as you can start, you are all right. The juice will come." | rethinked.org

From things that have happened and from things as they exist and from all things that you know and all those you cannot know, you make something through your invention that is not a representation but a whole new thing truer than anything true and alive, and you make it alive, and if you make it well enough, you give it immortality. That is why you write and for no other reason that you know of. But what about all the reasons that no one knows?” -Ernest Hemingway

Today we are celebrating Ernest Hemingway’s birthday here at rethinked* Other than being a great and completely superfluous excuse for gorging ourselves on cupcakes, it is a splendid time to reflect on some of his insights on the creative process. Here are some of my favorite quotes from his 1958 interview with the Paris Review.

eat [cup]cakes, reflect, create & rethink …* 

– On the Feeling Tones of the Creative Process – 

When I am working on a book or a story I write every morning as soon after first light as possible. There is no one to disturb you and it is cool or cold and you come to your work and warm as you write. You read what you have written and, as you always stop when you know what is going to happen next, you go on from there. You write until you come to a place where you still have your juice and know what will happen next and you stop and try to live through until the next day when you hit it again. You have started at six in the morning, say, and may go on until noon or be through before that. When you stop you are as empty, and at the same time never empty but filling, as when you have made love to someone you love. Nothing can hurt you, nothing can happen, nothing means anything until the next day when you do it again. It is the wait until the next day that is hard to get through.

 

– On Knowing When to Stop – 

But if you stopped when you knew what would happen next, you can go on. As long as you can start, you are all right. The juice will come.

 

– On Solitude, the Passing of Time & the Creative Act – 

The further you go in writing the more alone you are. Most of your best and oldest friends die. Others move away. You do not see them except rarely, but you write and have much the same contact with them as though you were together at the café in the old days. You exchange comic, sometimes cheerfully obscene and irresponsible letters, and it is almost as good as talking. But you are more alone because that is how you must work and the time to work is shorter all the time and if you waste it you feel you have committed a sin for which there is no forgiveness.

 

– On Enhancing One’s Craft By Learning From Other Fields – 

I put in painters, or started to, because I learn as much from painters about how to write as from writers. You ask how this is done? It would take another day of explaining. I should think what one learns from composers and from the study of harmony and counterpoint would be obvious.

 

– On the Artist – Audience Relationship & the Need For a Work of Art to Stand Alone –  

Read anything I write for the pleasure of reading it. Whatever else you find will be the measure of what you brought to the reading.

A sensible question is neither a delight nor an annoyance. I still believe, though, that it is very bad for a writer to talk about how he writes. He writes to be read by the eye and no explanations or dissertations should be necessary. You can be sure that there is much more there than will be read at any first reading and having made this it is not the writer’s province to explain it or to run guided tours through the more difficult country of his work.

 

– On the Only Constant of the Creative Act Being Change & Movement – 

Sometimes you know the story. Sometimes you make it up as you go along and have no idea how it will come out. Everything changes as it moves. That is what makes the movement which makes the story. Sometimes the movement is so slow it does not seem to be moving. But there is always change and always movement.

 

– On Competition – 

I used to try to write better than certain dead writers of whose value I was certain. For a long time now I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can.

 

– On Reminding Oneself that Creating Something Out of Nothing Is Always Difficult & Often Involves Some Degree of Despair – 

I read them [his own novels] sometimes to cheer me up when it is hard to write and then I remember that it was always difficult and how nearly impossible it was sometimes.

 

– On the Importance of Observing & Soaking Up Experience – 

If a writer stops observing he is finished. But he does not have to observe consciously nor think how it will be useful. Perhaps that would be true at the beginning. But later everything he sees goes into the great reserve of things he knows or has seen.

 

– On His Principle of the Iceberg – 

If it is any use to know it, I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eighths of it underwater for every part that shows. Anything you know you can eliminate and it only strengthens your iceberg. It is the part that doesn’t show. If a writer omits something because he does not know it then there is a hole in the story. 

[…]

First I have tried to eliminate everything unnecessary to conveying experience to the reader so that after he or she has read something it will become a part of his or her experience and seem actually to have happened. This is very hard to do and I’ve worked at it very hard.

Anyway, to skip how it is done, I had unbelievable luck this time and could convey the experience completely and have it be one that no one had ever conveyed. The luck was that I had a good man and a good boy and lately writers have forgotten there still are such things. Then the ocean is worth writing about just as man is. So I was lucky there. I’ve seen the marlin mate and know about that. So I leave that out. I’ve seen a school (or pod) of more than fifty sperm whales in that same stretch of water and once harpooned one nearly sixty feet in length and lost him. So I left that out. All the stories I know from the fishing village I leave out. But the knowledge is what makes the underwater part of the iceberg.

*

Source: Ernest Hemingway, The Art of Fiction No. 21. The Paris Review, Spring 1958

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