saying yes is not easy

It’s not often that an acronym works out meaningfully. Usually you have to bodge it a bit, but yesterday I was writing something about energy and attitude and then I thought about the need for stamina in any human enterprise- E.A.S- and without even thinking I said to myself Yes. EASY eh?

Let’s start at the end, a good place to start- at least you’ll know where you are going. Yes. Or maybe Yes! Saying Yes to something- to a trip, to an idea, to a project, to a meeting- or even to a night of jazz and poetry. We live next door to a rather splendid art gallery that stages events from time to time. They had advertised an evening of jazz and poetry. All we had to do was walk about fifty yards. Did we go? No. Because we never said yes. We kept putting off the decision, until, of course, it was too late. That’s when you start telling yourself you’ve never really liked jazz anyway and as for poetry…

‘Yes Man’- the Jim Carey film- shows the power of saying yes rather well. But it never depicts the problems of saying yes to things that conflict. Most people have way too many things to say yes to which would interfere with, say, writing a book or making a long journey. 'Yes' people may be happy- but they never get anything done because there is always something else better coming along.

But the valuable, almost magical part of yes, what we could call a ‘deep yes’, is when you take something on board sincerely, when you commit. Strangely I have found this to be the opposite of what you may imagine. Instead of ‘telling the world’ you often make a silent inner pact. It’s literally too important to blab about. The fairly trivial but hugely important to me at the time decision to quit smoking  only happened (after years of public announcements to friends and family) when I just stopped. And told no one. It was too important to me to tarnish and cheapen with mere words.

So a ‘deep yes’ or an inner yes is a powerful thing. You can’t fake it- by definition. It’s rather like being with children and one says “I’m going to write a book”. They want the attention you get from writing a book but they don’t really want to write it, or even know what writing one really entails. So this kind of public ‘yes’ is weak. Doesn’t mean it can’t work- the power of shame is stronger in some than others. But for me- I’m pretty shameless and rather good at sliding out of things. So there has to be that inner yes first- then I know something will happen. You get better at recognising them. It’s a calm process, you’re not pumped by it or even that excited. You realise the responsibility implied. It has an inevitable feel. That’s the best description I can think of.

You may have to flout what appears to be ‘the sensible thing’ to get to a deep yes. Often a clue that the sensible thing is wrong is after you have ‘made the decision’ in your mind you still have qualms. And not qualms that are easily allayed. Umming and ahhing over what size hulls to buy for a catamaran (this is going somewhere I guarantee) I said in the end: what size seems right even though it doesn't on the face of it seem the most sensible? I was surprised by the answer, but was happy with it. The qualms magically disappeared. I had my deep yes.  You can sharpen your sense of saying yes in the most everyday of circumstances- which can only help you with more important decisions.

But without that deep yes it doesn’t matter how much energy, attitude and stamina you have you won’t get anywhere with your project.

Take the traditional schema of a human being represented as a cart, pulled by a horse with a driver and passenger. The cart is the body, the horse is the emotions/energy, the driver is the intellect/reason and the passenger is the real you.

The driver does what he is told – otherwise he’ll just go where the horses take him or where his ‘reason’ suggests. Usually that will be a mix of emotion and intellect- the emotion being the desire to copy others and the intellect being how to do it in a clever way. But despite having lots of energy, a strong body and a powerful brain you’ll get nowhere ‘you’ want to go unless the real ‘you’ makes his or her demands heard.

One of the stories told by my friend Fat Frank the carpet dealer is of an Iranian of great energy and intelligence who ran a carpet shop and made no money…until he was caught in a terrible road accident and lost the power of his legs. Wheelchair bound he became a millionaire. What happened? He found the passenger by becoming one. No longer able to run about after ideas and people he sat and planned and got others to do things for him. He focussed on planning what needed to be done and working out ways of doing it rather than reacting and losing direction. Stuck in his wheelchair, denied distraction he was forced to learn how to say yes in a meaningful way.

So, how do you get into that ‘head state’ where a real yes, a deep yes if you like is more likely than a whimsical one? You have to use your inner compass. You have to recognise you have one and then trust it. Then you can ‘test’ your decision by making it match sensible(ish) requirements.

We all know the situation: you want to do something, maybe even are required to do it, but somehow you just can’t get excited about it. Over time this feeling ‘that you ought to do this thing’ grows alongside a feeling that it’s ‘wrong in some way’. And it probably IS wrong- the question is- how do you free your inner compass to find out the right manner to do this thing?

Years ago I was in the common position of having to find a flat in London. We wanted somewhere central for a low reant- ie. a virtual impossibility. My flatmate spent every night visiting potential and entirely unsuitable apartments. I did nothing for two weeks because it just ‘felt wrong’ (having to resist accusations of bone idleness too). Then one day I remembered a friend had once rented a flat from a free ads paper that was three months old. There was a free ads paper on the table- only a few weeks old. I found somewhere promising, rang up to find that though the place had gone and even better flat was available from the same company right now. In three hours I had paid the deposit and arranged to move in.

The inner compass seems to get nudged into action by a random almost nonsensical thought like the one about my friend using an old paper. If crazy thoughts like this occur during an otherwise rational process give them some attention- you have nothing to lose and they may nudge the inner compass needle.

On another occasion I moved somewhere because I thought someone I knew (and admired) lived there. It turned out they didn’t but the place was really excellent in every respect. So the clue can be half wrong- it’s just a supernatural nudge if you like, a nudge from another dimension.

Of course you could end up slavishly copying what friends you admire are doing (and these nudges often seem to be prompted by thoughts of people you hold in higher esteem) and I think the clue is – does the idea just pop into your head or does it end up there by a kind of dull dredging process?

To make that inner compass work you can’t be too needy and desperate. You need to be kicking back a bit. You need to be able to get some detachment- going for a very long walk- at least half a day works for me. Have a party, meet friends, deliberately focus on something very small such as making a plastic kit or even, like Norman Mailer and David Beckham, making a lego model…

how to be zenarchist

Zen is an exercise in letting go of attachment to outcomes, to things, to thoughts. Some people might consider it just got a bit out of hand with all that sitting around for hours and getting hit with sticks when you doze off. Whether your take on zen is low key and about finding the ineffable where you least expect it, or full on and reminiscent of shifu in kung fu panda chanting “Inner peace. Inner peace. INNER PEACE!” I think the notion that zen+anarchy might produce some interesting freeing up of thoughts and directions.

First- anarchy- make of this much abused word what you will. I’ve lived through a revolution where the police suddenly went AWOL for three days- and anarchy didn’t break out. People organised themselves- that’s what people do. So anarchy as ‘mob on the rampage’ is clearly misleading. People form networks. When these networks start oppressing others there is resistance. Anarchy is more a cry of liberation than a statement of revolution. It’s not a political creed, really, because for politics you need rules, or seem to, rules made by others and forced onto people who disagree with them. Anarchy is what happens when you make YOUR OWN RULES- and the less the better. When Ueshiba started aikido his dojo had no rules. Then someone was caught stealing and he announced there was one rule: no stealing. It’s just a word- if it get’s you somewhere new, great.

Now add the Zen bit. Zen is about stilling the inner noise so that the real you, the inner radio that’s tuned to the real thing can start functioning. We’re always tweaking that inner antenna, when we can, if zen helps then all well and good. You know that slight ‘off note’ you make, when you’re with people who are cooler, more fun, calmer, more relaxed than you? No good beating up on yourself, just tweak the aerial by dropping down a gear, listening a bit more, doing stuff instead of thinking about yourself, helping instead of taking, judging others a bit less- that sort of thing.

Zen is about nothing because the moment you talk about it it disappears. Doesn’t mean there isn’t something there- it’s just very fragile and allergic to chat. So you work on REMOVING noise that gets in the way and then you get what everyone has been going on about for centuries.

We don’t even need the word Zen, in fact, it could very well get in the way. But I like it and I think it’s entered the general lexicon as meaning ‘detached, but not in some nihilistic way’.

All political creeds are pretty much bunkum- if you take in human beings from Bedouin and New Guinean headhunters to New Yorkers looking for a cappuccino, to Englishmen worried about the weather to Inuit sniffing glue- or hunting seals- I take Zen Anarchy to mean a cheerful realisation of this fact, an openness of mind, a zeal to not shut others down…there are enough waves out there for everyone to surf. If that’s what you want to do.

Creativity

It's not about creativity. It's about focussed creativity. And creativity only becomes focussed when it is constrained, trammelled, formatted. Find a format you are happy with.

life begins when you say I am a...

What’s the biggest predictor of childhood musical genius? Innate ability? Hours of practise? Parents are musicians? Nope.

The single biggest factor is whether the kids see themselves as long or short term committed. If a child self-identifies as very long term committed to music ie. sees themselves as ‘a musician’ even though they aren’t, then this far outweighs other factors. To put it into perspective: a child who calls him or herself ‘a musician’, who practises a mere thirty minutes a week will outperform any child over any time period who practises an hour and a half a week but who doesn't self-identify with the idea of being a musician. Practise doesn’t make perfect. Perfect plus some practise makes better sense. You need the self-image first, not last. Don’t we all know this…despite its counter-cause-and-effect feel. It’s the way the real and mysterious world works. Nicholson Baker wrote how he called himself a writer even though he hadn’t written anything. I called myself a poet long before I wrote any half decent poetry. It was the image of being a poet that kept me going , but more than that it gave a scale and context to my efforts. How many pop stars call themselves musicians and then learn to play their instruments? Loads.

This insight about youthful excellence by the way comes from the superbly suggestive and informative ‘The talent code’ by Daniel Coyle. It’s full of great stuff.

Anyway- back to the main idea. We can see that ability or great talent is, in fact, an act of impersonation. Is it any surprise that great actors turn out to achieve high standards in reality- Robert De Niro was considered by real boxing champ Jake La Motta to be ‘in the top 10 boxers in America’. This was after intensive coaching for his role as…  world champion boxer Jake La Motta. Stephen Fry, in his autobiographical novel ‘The Liar’ gives a clue to his multi-talentedness- the book’s theme is that the hero despite his high achievements always feels like a fraud who is merely acting the part, and will be found out at any moment, in other words, he acts the part and then becomes it.

The clue for potential polymaths is to find out the key to self-identifying with any talent they want to achieve. This is where intensive training comes in. I did aikido three times a week for an hour at a time- but I still didn’t think of myself as a martial artist. I upped that to five days a week for five hours a day and everything changed. Over a year I got a lot lot better. But it wasn’t the practise, or only the practise, it was the fact that this was what I did so this must be what I was.

By meeting and becoming ordinary friends with people who do what you want to do you learn how ‘they aren’t that special’ ie. they are human after all. Which means you can impersonate them and become that role too. Why are so many top tennis players eastern European? Because just by coming from Czech/Serbia/Croatia you are already halfway there. I mean if you’re Brazilian you must be good at football right? This may be half humorous, but it's more than half-true.

Now, the big question is, is there a way to switch on the ‘I am a…’ button so that mastery of a subject is assured? I think there is. Start with the following:

1)Immerse yourself in the subject to one level above that at which you wish to compete.

2) Make ordinary friends with people doing what you want to do. See what they do in their regular lives not just when they are doing what they are doing best.

3) Do your thing – practise conjures up the wrong image- what I think sums it up better is ‘apply your own creativity to your own improvement’. You have to jump higher. Figure out your own way to do this first. Seek help too, wherever you can find it, but in the end you have to personalise your improvement, ‘find your own way’ to do what everyone else is doing ‘the standard way’- if doing it the standard way doesn’t come naturally at first (and it may later).

4) From the beginning call yourself ‘a writer’, ‘a poet’, ‘a photographer’, ‘an athlete’, ‘a pilot’. Do what you have to, in terms of improvised sleight of hand to half convince yourself, three-quarters convince yourself, to be able to convince others at a party, say, that yes you really are that role. And then you’ll become it. If that’s what you want.

Lucky Ludwig

Explorers need two skills in spades: the ability to lead and the ability to navigate. If you don’t know where you are, where you are going and can’t get others to follow you, things can get mighty unwholesome.

Most explorers have or take the trouble to acquire these skills. But not all of them. Ludwig Leichhardt, the first European to cross northern Australia, linking the East coast to the North, a spectacularly ambitious and successful expedition, was neither any good at knowing where he was nor much use at leading.

Some of his calculations put his estimated position in the Coral Sea they were so inaccurate. When he left the Burdekin river he went completely off course. He had two front teeth knocked out by an aboriginal guide- a friendly guide not an antagonistic one. He failed to ration his supplies and allowed half of them to be gobbled up in the first 700km of a 4800 km journey. From then on they lived precariously off the land.

Leichhardt, a Prussian of slender means, a former tutor of the children of the rich, was not very likeable, by all accounts. But he arrived in Australia aged 30 in 1843 determined to explore the interior. He got lucky when the British asked that someone try to link up what would become Brisbane with Port Essington in the north west.

Was luck, then, the lesson we can draw from Leichhardt? (His luck ran out in 1848 when he disappeared in the interior of Australia). Or is it simply being in the right time and the right place (even if later you can’t exactly say where that place is)? Leichhardt was short sighted, temperamental, not physically impressive, incompetent and yet he made a truly great journey. Personally I think he stands as a necessary antidote to the ambitious hordes tugging their sledges to both poles and their rucksacks up Mt Everest. Exploration isn’t primarily about physical toughness, it’s about mental toughness allied with supreme optimism. Leichhardt really believed. No one else did which was why the journey hadn’t been made before. Nowadays such self belief is bolstered by sat phones, GPS, EPIRBs, air rescue. Journeys made in the old way look tame now, just as walking a six inch plank is easy when it’s on the ground. Try doing it when it is raised a few hundred feet…

Sheer unadulterated optimism, hope, belief that it can be done, that a way will be found: that’s the lesson of Ludwig Leichhardt.

what's your currency?

Time or money? Or maybe something else?

opportunity

From time to time do a task you consider is beneath you.