A group of friends sit around a table talking, sharing stories
and memories. The dark burgundy tablecloth is broken up by a scattered
grouping of wine glasses and three open bottles of wine. The
pastel-splattered labels show scenes of small villas surrounded by fields of
flowers. Bach’s Mass in B minor is playing over the stereo as the host of
the party reaches for a bottle. He gently cups the bottom of the bottle in
his left hand supporting its neck with his right hand. He’s in no hurry to
pour. Instead, he talks for five minutes about the small vineyard in
Southern France that produced this bottle of wine. When he’s finished, he
pours some wine into each glass. Each person watches as the smooth, silky
wine flows softly into the glass. Then, one by one, the friends slowly
pick up their glasses, hold them up to the light and marvel at the dark red
color of the wine. They give the glass a slow swirl and watch as the
wine’s legs slowly crawl down the glass. Then each raises the glass to
sip, but pause briefly to savor the aroma. They are in no hurry to
drink. They swish the wine in their mouths to feel its texture and take in
its flavor.
It’s 12:45 am and the group is sitting elbow to elbow in a
dimly lit bar. They try to talk but can’t hear one another because Def
Leppard’s Armaggedon is blaring over the sound system. They aren’t too
concerned. In the absence of actually understanding one another, they
mirror each other’s laughs, frowns or looks of surprise. The only time
they notice their beer drenched clothes is when someone stumbles into them
pressing the sticky fabric against their skin. Between the dim lights and
cigarette smoke it’s hard to see one another. The only image they can make
out is their friend, hair matted down to his head for some unknown reason and
face glimmering from sweat. He grabs a pitcher of beer, screams
“CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUG” at the top of his lungs and downs the pitcher barely tasting
a drop. But he’s achieved his goal. The beer is gone quickly and
efficiently and he is still standing. They all scream in approval and the
night goes on.
In his book, How to Think Like Leonardo DaVinci, Michael Gelb reflects Leonardo’s lament that, the typical person “looks without seeing, listens without hearing, touches without feeling, eats without tasting, moves without physical awareness, inhales without awareness of odor or fragrance and talks without thinking” And that was before the information age and internet. I could only imagine what he’d think of our sound-byte driven life and executive book summary culture. As we experience the ongoing onslaught of information bombarding our senses, many of us have developed filters and other mechanisms to help us “focus”. But focusing comes at a cost. We’ve become information and experience “chuggers.”
We’ve learned to filter out anything not relevant to the answer we are pursuing. One executive told me that he skips the narrative parts of memos and only focuses on the bullets. CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUG. But can I blame him? He is busy, memos can be long and he wants to get to the “point”.
There is more to life than the “point”. Often the answer to really hard questions doesn’t lie in a few simple facts. It is hidden in your experiences. Most people agree that we learn from our experiences. Yet we tend to minimize those experiences in the name of efficiency or productivity. We need to find a balance between efficiency and experience. It’s time to rekindle our senses, opening up and experiencing more.
The first way we inhibit our senses is by turning them off. Think about all of the things you do in autopilot mode. How many gas stations are there between your home and work? Do you ever notice? Do you look much at your surroundings on your way to work or are you just trying to get from point A to point B as efficiently as possible. Without looking, what color is the shirt on the person sitting next to you? I bet you already greeted and talked with that person a bit so you probably know they are there. Have you ever noticed all of the unique decorum McDonald’s puts up in its restaurants to reflect local themes or culture? We do a lot of things in autopilot mode and in doing so, we tend to miss a lot. Autopilot is intellectual chugging. It’s about getting the job done with as little external interference as possible. It makes us more effective by dulling our senses. Instead, try to make everything that you do new. Try to find a twist on what you already know.
The second way that we inhibit our senses is by putting a buffer on them. Our euphemism for this is “focus”. We measure focus on how quickly we cut through the facts and eliminate distractions to our problem. Focus creates a strange paradox. Greater focus yields greater detail. Yet, greater focus reduces your field of view. When you look through binoculars, how much of the horizon do you really see? When you participate in an overly scripted presentation or interview protocol how many stories and experiences do you miss? The greatest illustration of this is a Random Image Stereogram (RIS) or “Magic Eye”. An RIS is a three dimensional picture hidden within a random collection of images. I’ve included one below. The funny thing about these is that the harder you try focus on the image, the less likely you will be able to see it. Give it a try and remember, don’t focus. If you are having trouble, stare at the center of the picture but try to “look” at the two dots on the top.
To experience more, we need to loosen up and take in more of what is going on around us. Over the years, I have built a unique set of Excel skills. Many of my friends are convinced that I stay up all night pouring through software manuals. It’s much more simple. When I get a spreadsheet, in addition to looking at the facts the person wanted me to see, I do something else. I notice the formulas, features and functions the person used. Sometimes I’ll access help to understand more, but that’s all it takes. It’s that simple! This is the primary mechanism through which I’ve built most of my knowledge and skills. By loosening my focus I discover so much more about what is going on.
How often do you turn off the autopilot or loosen your focus? Have you ever stopped to listen to street musicians or do you rush past them to get to your destination? How quickly do you check your watch and meeting agenda when someone goes off on a “tangent”? When talking with someone, do you listen for key words or phrases or do you listen to each word? In familiar situations, do you look for something new or let past experience and expectations take over?
Try this last exercise. Close your eyes for a second and think about the backside of your right hand. How many wrinkles are on it? How many scars, birthmarks, freckles? Is your skin smooth or rough? Hairy or bald? Do you have marks on your nails? What color nail polish are you wearing? Then open your eyes and look. How close were you? You may be surprised. Keep this in mind next time you enter an experience in an area that you think you know “like the back of your hand”. The more you take in, the greater your experience. The greater your experience, the greater your opportunity to learn.
Conclusion
If you want to become a trusted advisor to your customers, you’d need to learn a lot about them. How well do you know that? How much do you listen when talking with them? Do you focus on their broad concerns? Their preferences? Their ideas? Or do you focus on gathering just enough information to complete a transaction?
Go out and notice something new in something old. Each day next week, try to identify five things you haven’t noticed before on your way to work.
Hmmm. . . interesting post. I love it when you compose from your RabbiChiefBuddah persona. Thanks for the point about loosening focus. A generally curious attitude toward your experience can yield all sorts of insights. it’s true that when you do that, you’re more open, more receptive to new skills and knowledge, and possibly more creative. Your Excel example is edifying.
At the same time, the dude with the wine glass lecturing about its vineyard of origin sounds about as interesting as a hangnail. What’s up with that? I’d kind of like to dump that wine on his head and throw the glass in the fire and make him dance like a fool. Oh Chief, please don’t tell me this sophisticated bore is our contemporary Leonardo. Maybe you should pop in your Scorpions tape and ponder this over a case of Schlitz. Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 2009.