I wish you the best

I wish you the best

but if you get there before me

take me with you.

~ Ambassador Shabazz, the eldest daughter of Malcolm X, at the Reviving the Islamic Spirit convention, 2011.

Making a difference

We all want to "make a difference".  The truth is, whether we want to or not, we do make a difference.  It's just a question of what kind of difference are we making.

Every purchase we make makes a difference.  Every dollar we spend is a vote for what we want to exist in the world.  By choosing to buy something, we're voting to keep that thing available for sale and to have more of it produced in the future.  By choosing not to buy something, we're doing the opposite.

Just in terms of food, we can choose to eat local foods, local organic foods, organic foods, foods that we grow ourselves or just the cheapest thing on the shelf.  Each one of these is a choice and each of these choices make a difference.  It makes a difference in terms of what foods will continue to be produced, which methods of production will be more profitable, which will be less, and thereby what we'll likely have more of in the future and what we'll likely have less of. 

Each one of these methods of production has an impact on the world.  They use different amounts of fossil fuels in the production and transportation of the food.  They use different amounts of pesticides and fertilizers.  And all of that makes a difference.  

Even without spending money, we make a difference by the things we say and do.  We can encourage people and give them fuel for their endeavours or we can ignore them.  We can be extraordinarily kind or generous or industrious and inspire others to do the same.  Or, we can do the bare minimum and perpetuate a culture where that becomes as the norm.

We all make a difference.  It's just a matter of what kind of difference we're making.

(I'd like to credit Jeff Short for the ideas about different foods and how they make a difference.  This was the topic of his speech at Toastmaster's last week)

Explaining myself

I find that I'm explaining myself quite a bit these days.  When I was in school, it was clear.  I was in school, working on my PhD.  It's a known box.  No further explanation necessary.

Now I'm not in school.  I've got the PhD but I'm not interested in working in biomedical engineering.  That's where the explanations start. 

"Why?" people ask.

I don't like the work, the tedium of research.  I haven't found it to be a good use of my skill set or a good fit with my personality.  I'm disturbed by the amount of biohazardous and chemical waste we produce in research -- and the amount of waste in general -- especially when we use plastic disposable everything to run our experiments in aseptic conditions.  I question whether this allocation of resources into research is really the best way to alleviate the suffering of people who are sick. 

Having spent many, many hours with people who were terminally ill, I wonder how much better patients' lives might be if the same effort we put into extending their lives was put into improving the quality of the days they already have.  Actually, even a fraction of the effort would make a huge difference.  Improving the quality of their days doesn't require brilliant scientists in state-of-the-art research facilities using expensive equipment and toxic chemicals.  Just a visit by someone who cares would do it.  Some time spent reading a book or holding a hand or just sitting by the bedside would do it. 

Aside from all that, I believe that we have more pressing problems.  I believe that our train of progress is heading for an abyss of environmental catastrophe and social crises.  I could ignore that, go on with business as usual and tinker about inside the train like a good engineer.  Or, I could try to do something to prevent our train from reaching the abyss.  Somehow, the latter course of action just makes more sense to me.

Plenitude by Juliet Schor

This is the text of the speech I wrote and delivered for Toastmaster's this week. 

I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading and thinking recently. Having spent most of the past 12 years in university, that really shouldn’t be anything new, but once I finished school and wrapped up my work contracts, I got to do a different kind of thinking and reading. My reading was no longer limited to quantum dots, viruses and nanotechnology. I started thinking about bigger things – literally and figuratively.

Two of the issues that interest me most are unemployment and environmental sustainability. How do we build a society where everyone can make a living? And how do we do that while preserving the environment we depend on to live?

We live in one of the most prosperous societies that have ever existed. At a mundane level, just look at our grocery stores and the abundance and variety of food on the shelves. I remember going to my local Loblaws a few years ago and counting 18 different kinds of apples available for sale. 18! Our grocery stores are brimming with foods from every corner of the world. And yet, so many people in this society struggle to put food on the table for their families because they are unemployed or underemployed.

In first year economics, we learned that to decrease unemployment, we have to increase growth. We need to pump more money into the economy so that people will spend more and buy more. This increased demand will lead to increased production and the creation of new jobs.

But this solution comes with its own problems. In a world with finite resources, we can’t grow indefinitely. Even the seemingly infinite stock of fish in the sea will dwindle and disappear if we keep fishing more and more – as we’ve seen with the collapse of the cod fishery in Newfoundland. In the past 30 years alone, we have consumed one third of the planet’s resources. Besides that, this production and consumption is polluting our air, water and land. So, given these environmental constraints, growth does not appear to be a feasible solution to the problem of unemployment.

So, what is?

Well, a few months ago, I read a book by Juliet Schor, which suggests an interesting alternative. The book I read was called True Wealth. It was previously published as Plenitude.

Dr. Schor, who is a professor of sociology at Boston College, proposes that we can reduce unemployment and protect the environment by working less. Yes, that’s right, we should each work less. Instead of working 40 hours a week, what if we worked at 80% of full time? That’s 32 hours a week -- 4 days a week instead of 5. Effectively, this would enable us to share the existing workload amongst more people.

You’re probably thinking right now about all the reasons this pie-in-the-sky socialist idea wouldn’t work, right? Well, in the early 1980’s, there was a worldwide economic downturn and Western Europe was particularly hard hit. The Netherlands decided to take a proactive stance and started hiring new government employees at an 80% work week. The idea caught on and public sector workers were joined by academics. Eventually, even their whole banking industry joined in the 80% schedule.

But what would people do with 20% less income. Well, for one, they would buy less. Immediately, that would reduce the strain on scarce environmental resources. Instead of shopping or buying new gadgets for our entertainment, we could spend time outside, read a book or hang out with friends. Instead of paying other people to make our food or coffee, we would do it ourselves – and thereby not only save money, but save on the packaging and disposable cups or napkins or cutlery that comes with having take-out.

But where are you going to find the time? Remember, the basis of this whole model is working less. Less time for work means more time for everything else. More time to do stuff can help offset the less money you have to buy stuff. So we’re buying less and creating more.

Of course, there are some things we can’t do on our own. Sometimes we’ll need help from other people. That’s also part of the model. With less time working, we could have more time connecting with other people. It could be friends helping friends move instead of hiring movers. It could be neighbours sharing a lawnmower rather each buying their own. We would be strengthening our social fabric while reducing unemployment and protecting the environment.

In summary, this model proposes that we work less, buy less, create more and connect more.

Albert Einstein once said that “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” This model of Plenitude, by Juliet Schor, is a different kind of thinking.

Cooking lesson

I cooked dinner today.  I didn't start the rice early enough so we had to wait a while, after everything else was ready, for the rice to finish cooking before we could start eating. 

I was going to use a large knife to cut the steak and, not wanting to dirty any extra knives, I used it to cut everything else as well.  I'm not so used to the large knife so everything ended up being cut more coarsely than usual -- the ginger, the celery, the carrots.  Whoops. 

Instead of cooking the steak first and then putting in the onions, I did it the other way around, onions first. 

When making the stir fry, I had the oil on pretty high when I put the meat in the pan, along with the marinade, causing a lot of hot splashiness.  Whoops.

In the end, the meal was fine.  And, with all the mistakes I made in the process, I got a great cooking lesson too.  Experience may not be one of the kindest teachers, but it is one of the best.

When gifts are for sale

In Canada, the blood donation system has always been deliberately separated from the market.  No one is paid to give blood and no one pays to get blood.  It's a gift.  Same is true for organ donation.

Visiting old people or sick people, offering emotional support and companionship also tend to fall into the gift economy.  This is what friends, family and neighbours do.  And they don't do it for payment.

When these types of gifts start being bought or sold in the market, they become cheapened -- even if their prices are not actually cheap.  The motivations to provide these gifts become clouded.  Intrinsic motivators -- a sense of duty, an attitude of generosity, love -- are crowded out by extrinsic considerations, such as money and time.

Pennies are counted.  Minutes are counted.  And the gift is lost.

Where are we going?

My friend has a three year old, who she pushes in the stroller when we go for our runs.  On Friday, as we were running, her daughter asked us, "Where are we going?".  Between gasping breaths, I tried to explain to her that we're not really going anywhere.  We're just running. 

Sometimes, it's really more about journey itself and how you traverse than it is about the final destination. 

The patience circle

Shaykh Muhammad Al-Shareef talks about a patience circle.  On the board, he draws a circle that contains all the things that we have patience for, like missing the bus, losing a pen, some things not going as planned, etc.  They're different for different people.  He represents all these as X's inside our patience circle.  Then, there are things that we have a difficult time being patient for.  These are X's outside our patience circle.  

From time to time, we will be tested with those things outside our patience circle. If we try really hard and are able to be patient with these things outside our patience circle, the patience circle grows -- so those X's that used to be outside are now inside.  Conversely, if we're not patient, the patience circle shrinks and even those things that used to be inside, may now fall outside the patience circle.

It depends who's asking

Sean Covey writes about a Relationship Bank Account in his advice to teens and their parents.  He writes about how, through your actions, you can make deposits that strengthen the relationship and withdrawals that weaken the relationship.  What constitutes a deposit or a withdrawal depends on each person's unique needs and expectations from the relationship.

I was thinking about this bank account analogy today with regards to the favours that our friends ask of us.  There are some people, who we'd do just about anything for if they asked us.  Beyond that, we're actually happy when they ask us to do things.  We're honored.  It's like they've got VIP status at our bank and they get bonus points for their transactions.

Conversely, there are people who don't have that status.  These are the random people we hardly know who make extraordinary requests.  When they make such requests, it's like they're trying to write a cheque for a sum that's greater than the balance in their account.  Not only will they not be able to cash that cheque, but the account will be hit with a stiff NSF fine as well.

Positive social side effects

I'm a joiner.  I've always liked to join clubs and groups and organizations.  I like the group thing.  I like the team thing.  I like being part of a project.  I like going out and doing things.  And with a group of like-minded individuals, you can do just about anything.

One of the best things about these group activities is the positive social side effect.  We may meet for the purpose of giving food to the homeless, hosting a community lunch, organizing activities for children or improving our public speaking, but that's not all we get out of our meetings.  We get to talk to each other, listen to each other, learn from each other. 

From these seeds, I have seen friendships sprout and grow well beyond the setting in which they were planted.  That's the part I love.

More than we are

Sometimes, circumstances require us to be more than we are.  Stronger, braver and wiser than we know ourselves to be.  We can retreat, citing our inadequacy.  Or we can step forward, recognizing the need.  We can shrink into the shell of what we know ourselves to be.  Or grow to become more than we are.

Someone else's game

Every game has rules and objectives.  Do this, don't do that.  When you get this, you win. 

Professions also have their rules and objectives.  Work overtime.  Get a raise.  Publish papers.  Apply for grants.  Whoever gets the most money / publications / funding wins.

But what if you don't need that much money or that many publications or that much funding?  Maybe this isn't the game for you. 

You don't have to play someone else's game.

Positive deviance

When there's a problem I want to solve, the first thing I do is start analyzing the issue.  I come up with all sorts of theories about the problem and its probable causes.  I can spend ridiculous amounts of time reviewing and analyzing my analysis.  But it doesn't get me any closer to the solution. 

Just knowing that a fixed mindset prevents me from writing doesn't make me more able to write.  That's not to say that this knowledge or awareness is useless.  It's just not enough.  Just wanting to fix something is rarely a sufficient condition to making that change.

What is useful is trying to find incidents of positive deviance.  These are those rare incidents when, instead of things going wrong as usual, things actually go right.  The idea is to learn from those times when things went right and try to replicate them. 

For example, those times when I successfully overcame the paralysis trying to think of something to write, how did I do it?  Or on the days when I woke up early in the morning, how did I do it? (Answers: I used 750words.com to get writing and to wake up early, I slept early.  Sleeping early also requires finding some positive deviance.  One thing I found was that when I exhaust myself during the day, I can't stay up late even if I wanted to).

Positive deviance has been used to fight malnutrition in Vietnam (read more in Switch), Guinea worm in Africa (read more in Influencer) and the spread of infection in hospitals (read more in Better).  With that sort of successful history, it might actually have a chance at helping me write every day and turn myself into a morning person.

A safety net

Imagine a narrow plank, straddled between the tops of two tall buildings on opposite sides of a busy street.  If you were offered a million dollars to walk from one end of the plank to the other, would you do it?  I wouldn't.

What if there was a safety net between the plank and the traffic below?  Then I might give it a shot.

Even though I might never--and certainly don't plan to--use the safety net, its mere presence makes a huge difference.  It's the difference between trying something and possibly succeeding and doing nothing and certainly failing (or at least causing nothing to change).  This is true not just of physical safety nets, but other types of safety nets as well.

In Toastmasters, the group creates a safe environment for members to practice their public speaking.  The safe environment allows people to build their confidence, improve their skills and gain experience, knowing that even if they make mistakes, they're not going to get hurt.  They're safe.

The first few times I took on big projects, I did them knowing that if there was ever anything I couldn't handle, I could turn to my family for help.  If all else failed, I knew they would step in, drive me wherever I needed to go at whatever hour of the night, be the extra pair of hands to keep things from falling apart or offer the listening ear to help me figure out a solution.  Even if I had never ended up needing their help, just knowing that it was going to be there allowed me to try things I would have otherwise shied away from.

The safety net makes a huge difference.  It's the difference between trying and failing, learning and stagnating, daring to make a change and settling for the status quo.

Who's your safety net?  How can you be one for someone else?

People fuel

Have you ever seen people contribute enthusiastically towards a project and then lose that enthusiasm until they're only doing the bare minimum to get by?  It's like they had tons of fuel and then it ran out, making any further progress painful and slow.  Previously enthusiastic team members start resenting the project and, sometimes, even each other.

I watched this unfold recently and I started wondering what happened?  What went wrong?  How can someone who is normally so helpful and generous become so reluctant and stingy?

My theory: people need fuel to work.  In particular, they need respect and appreciation.  Imagine working in a group where people are disrespecting you and ignoring your contributions.  How much extra work are you going to contribute?

It's not hard to give respect and appreciation.  It's a matter of listening to people's opinions and giving them due consideration.  It's giving people responsibilities commensurate with their abilities and resources.  It's answering emails -- even if the answer is 'I don't know'.  It's trusting people and not second-guessing them or asking them to defend every single decision they make.  It's thank you's and recognition of their contributions.  It's amazing how far people can go with a little fuel -- and how difficult it is to move forward when that fuel is missing.

I am the decisive element

Amy presented this beautiful quote at my toastmasters meeting a couple of weeks ago...  

I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element.  It is my personal approach that creates the climate.  It is my daily mood that makes the weather.  I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous.  I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration, I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person is humanized or de-humanized.  If we treat people as they are, we make them worse.  If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Activation energy

In chemistry, the activation energy is the energy you need to start a chemcal reaction.  Once this energy is put into the system, the reaction will go on its own, often producing much more than the energy required to start it.  For example, a little bit of heat is required to start a fire.  Once we have that spark, the fire burns on its own, releasing much more energy than that little spark used to light it.

I find that a lot of the things we do are like that chemical reaction.  You have to put a little bit of effort into it to begin with, but once you get started, the ball starts rolling and in the end, you get a lot more out of it than you put in.  For example, today, I went out for a run for the first time in a long time.  All I really had to do was decide to go, put on my sneakers and get outside.  Once I'm out there with my running buddy, the running takes care of itself and in the end, I feel great.

Similarly, I love visiting people.  I always find that it makes me really happy.  All I need to do is pick up the phone, set a time and date and the rest takes care of itself.  And in the end, I've gotten so much more out of it than I put in.

The same thing happens with my sewing.  I just pick the fabric and a project as simple as a drawstring bag and fifteen minutes later, I've got a new reusable bag, reduced my fabric stash, and I feel awesome.

The thing is, sometimes, even that little bit of activation energy becomes a barrier.  This is especially true when there are so many options that require almost no activation energy -- things like surfing the internet or checking my email or watching TV.  They're not just attention leaks, they're time and opportunity leaks too. That's just another reason why I try to limit my media consumption.

Almost invariably, once I do invest the energy to start some activity, I don't regret it and, on the contrary, I'm very happy that I made that decision.  I just need to remind myself that the activation energy of the activities is but a small investment for a much larger reward.

Writing and learning

I struggle for hours sometimes, trying to think of something to write.  I don't know why I find it so hard.  It's not for a lack of things to say.  I've got tons on my mind.  I think the problem is that I want to get it right (the first time, of course!).  So, if I don't think I can get it right the first time -- if I can't think through the whole brilliant piece that I want to write from beginning to end -- then I don't even try.  I don't even start.  Not a word is written.  It's ridiculous. 

I think this is my manifestation of the fixed mindset that Carol Dweck writes about.  The fixed mindset says that you are born with as much talent or ability or intelligence as you'll ever have.  So, if you have a fixed mindset, you're afraid of failure because you feel it will be a damning indictment on you -- on your intelligence, on your abilities, on your potential for success.  And you get so afraid of failure, that you don't even try.

The alternative is a growth mindset.  Those with a growth mindset believe that talent, ability and intelligence are built through effort.  They see failure as milestones on the road to success -- as building blocks and learning opportunities.  You need to make mistakes because that's how you learn.

That's what I'm trying to do with in writing every day.  No, not the mistakes, but the learning.  And I know that to learn, I've got to try and practice.  And I'll make mistakes.  But that's how I'm going to learn.

An attitude of generosity

One of the things I've learned from living with over 20 different roommates in the past eight years, is that it helps to have an attitude of generosity.

Generosity encompasses much more than giving money.  We can be generous in our thoughts by thinking well of people and giving them excuses when things go wrong.  We can be generous in our words by thanking people, complimenting them and praising their good work.  We can be generous in our time by listening, spending time with people and paying attention to them.  We can be generous in our actions by doing things that we think others would appreciate.  It could be washing dishes or taking out the garbage or choosing to buy the type of juice or cereal they like or adjusting the driver's seat of the car after we're done with it so that they don't have to adjust it themselves when they use it next.  The possibilities for being generous are endless -- and most of them, especially the most meaningful ones, have nothing to do with money.

Having an attitude of generosity goes a long way towards living happily with people.  The key is, in our generosity we mustn't come with an expectation of reciprocation from others.  Some people may be generous in return and some may not.  We may also find our generosity rewarded in ways that we could never have foreseen.  But even if we don't see such rewards, internally we feel the reward of our generosity through a goodness growing in our hearts.  And ultimately, we pray that the final rewards of our generosity come from The Most Generous.

Photosynthesis

When I was a kid, I thought plants were made of soil and water.  That's all you give them to grow, right?  I figured that the plant uses water and nutrients from the soil to make the bark and the trunk and the branches and the leaves.

Many years later, I learned about photosynthesis in school.  But it didn't click immediately.

Then one day, I was looking at some trees and thinking.  If the branches and leaves and trunk of the tree are made purely of stuff that comes out of the ground, then you would expect to see a large hole or depression around every tree.  It's simple conservation of matter.  You can't make stuff out of nothing.  So, if the material in the tree is coming out of the ground, then the more tree there is, the less ground you'd have.

Then I got it.

The stuff that makes up the tree isn't coming from the ground.  Yes, the tree gets some nutrients and water from the ground but the bulk of the material that makes up the tree is actually from the air.  That's photosynthesis.  It's using light energy to take carbon dioxide from the air and water from the ground to make carbohydrates.  It's turning air and water into plants -- into the wood and the bark and the leaves and the fruits.  And it happens all the time.

How awesome is that?!

The costs of 'free'

What is the cost of a free item?

• the thoughts/attention, effort and time spent to
• use it
• decide where to store it
• worry about losing it
• find it if it's lost
• decide whether or not to keep it and then how to transport or dispose of it during a move
• the space it takes to store it
• the time and effort it takes to maintain it
• the loss of neatness to clutter...

It's not really free, is it?

Self check out

A couple of weeks ago, my local branch of the public library started aggressively promoting their self check out machines.  I've used self check out before, but when there are library staff around, I prefer going to the counter to check out my books.  It's not like I have big conversations with the staff or anything.  I just give them my book, then they ask for my library card, they scan everything, ask me if I need anything else, I say no, they give me my receipt and my books and I say thank you and go.  That's it. 

During their self check out promotion blitz, staff directed all patrons to check the books out themselves using self check out.  Out of habit, I still went to the counter.  They had a self check out machine set up there too.  When I got to the front of the line, the librarian directed me step by step on how to use the machine to check my books out myself.  I got the message.

So at my most recent trip to the library, I used self check out.  It's very simple.  It's quick.  But I didn't like it.  I missed the little dialog with the staff. the little thank you and good bye, the acknowledgement of my presence and patronage of their library.  With self check out, I just go in and out.  No one acknowledges that I came, nor do I acknowledge anyone else.  It's almost like I wasn't there.

It just doesn't sit right with me.  There we are, all these people, sharing a common space and a common interest in books but everyone is in their own world.  And one of the few points of contact between individual worlds, i.e. the check out counter, has been removed.

I can see the benefit of self-serve options in situations when it's not practical to employ someone to serve customers.  For example, vending machines allow us to buy things at odd hours and in locations where it wouldn't pay to have an employee at the cashier.  Zipcar makes renting cars from many different locations at any time of day possible through their self-serve model.  But in a library, the staff have to be there anyways.  And the patrons are there too.  If everyone is in the same place at the same time, what does it hurt to have them interact a bit?

I just miss getting my books checked out at the counter.

Attention leaks

After sehri this morning, I prayed a few raka'ahs of tahajjud and sat to make du'a.  I was trying to take advantage of the last third of the night, when prayers are more likely to be answered.  But I struggled.  I kept getting tempted to open my computer -- to look at what, I don't really know.  But I could barely sit still.  I actually walked to my computer and then walked myself back to my prayer mat a couple of times.

Later in the day, I prayed at the Pickering Islamic Centre.  It's a beautiful masjid.  One of my favourites.  And I found it so much easier to pray.  And to focus.  And still my mind.  It was amazing.

It was as if my attention was water in a dam and distractions like my computer were leaks in that dam, allowing my attention to trickle away.  When I was at the masjid, I could focus.  The dam held.  There were no leaks.  Now I just need to figure out how to plug those leaks when they appear.  Because Pickering is a long way to go to focus and pray.

Effort and impact

It took me a long time to learn this, but I've found that there is a relationship between effort and impact.  It's not always linear but it's generally positive.  The more effort you put into something, the better the final product is and the greater its impact.

Now I see it in even the simplest of things.  For example, there are many ways to deliver a message.  You can send it in an email, you can say it over the phone or you can meet someone and say it in person.  It takes more effort to meet someone in person than it does to make a phone call and more effort to make a phone call than it does to send an email.  Likewise, even when the words are the same, the impact of the message is related to the effort used to deliver it.

Hajj memories

As the crowds grow in Mecca this week, I'm remembering my own hajj five years ago. 

It was...amazing.  All of it.  The crowds, the beautiful masjid, the kaabah, all the people gathered together by a common purpose.  Just the people amazed me.  Walking together in rivers flowing to and from the sacred mosque in rhythm with the daily prayers.  Millions of people standing together to pray and saying ameen together and bowing together and prostrating together...amazing.  I remember the feel of the cool marble floor beneath my feet, the sound of the adhan echoing through the city, the sight of the sky changing colour as the sun rose after Fajr prayer.  Absolutely amazing.

It was trying as well.  The waits.  So much waiting.  Waiting for the bus to arrive, waiting for everyone to get on, waiting for the luggage to get loaded, waiting for the bus to move, waiting to get off the bus.  And the people were a trial as well.  I kept thinking of the verse in the Qur'an "And we have created some of you as a trial for others: will ye have patience?" (25:20).  Yes, the patience.  Lots of patience.

It wasn't just patience to endure the long waits.  It was the patience of not getting angry when things didn't go the way we wanted -- when it seemed that someone did something to wrong us.  It was the patience of not complaining about things that were not in our control.  It was the patience to understand people from different places and cultures and environments as they behaved in different ways in shared buses, tents, streets and sacred spaces.

It was the brotherhood and sisterhood.  Giving and receiving cups of zamzam water to and from strangers.  Conversing in gestures, for lack of a common language.  Sharing meals.  Holding hands.  Pushing wheelchairs.  Praying side by side.  Smiling.

Amazing.

Counting -- and missing what counts

Albert Einstein once said "Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted."

I find that's particularly true for community work.

Funders are always looking for numbers -- number of meetings, number of attendees, number of volunteer hours, number of partner agencies, number of actions, etc.  But these numbers may have little correlation to the amount of benefit that comes out of a community project.  How do you measure inspiration or a sense of belonging?  How do you measure increased confidence or trust or strengthened relationships?  Is an hour spent listening to the troubles of one youth less valuable than an hour spent running a workshop attended by 10?

A project may look great in the numbers and yet have little real impact with people on the ground.  With the right incentives (e.g. food, bus tokens, honoraria), people will attend meetings or fill out surveys or do actions on a checklist.  There are ways to get good numbers.  But in this quest for numbers and focus on counting, we risk losing the immeasurable things that really count.

We don't have to, though.  I believe it is possible to get both good numbers and real impact.  But our focus must stay on the people.

Sincerity speaks through our actions.  If we're looking for good numbers, people can feel it.  If we're looking to make a difference, people can feel it too.   We must only be sincere in our intents and let the numbers fall where they may.

Education and grades

When I was in school, my main goal from each class was to get a credit with a good grade to put on my transcript.

It was only recently that I realized how badly I had missed the point.  The purpose of an education is not a nice transcript or degree.  Nicely printed pieces of paper can be obtained through much simpler means.  The purpose of the education is improvement of the student -- her refinement and transformation so that she is better when she comes out of it than when she went into it.

It's like physical exercise -- the purpose is not to lift the weight or to cover the distance.  If it were, we'd use cranes or vehicles.  That would be much easier.  But no, the purpose is to make the person doing it stronger, healthier and more fit.  The weights and kilometres are only means to achieve that -- as are the tests, assignments and grades.

The carpet merchants

I once heard about a group of carpet merchants whose shops are all next to each other in the marketplace.  Individually, they don't keep regular hours.  As soon as one of them makes the amount he wants for the day, he'll close up shop and leave the rest of the day's business to the others.

When I first heard about them, I thought, "Don't they know how to do business?"  Then I thought, "Wow!  How altruistic!  Instead of competing, they're sharing the business."  Now, I see it differently.

They're just choosing how to spend their time.  Once they have the money that they need, they move on with the rest of their day and do other things.  Instead of living to make money, these merchants making money to live.

Questioning business as usual

It isn't news to anyone that there's something wrong with our economy.  And I'm not just talking about the crash or the bailouts either.

In my high school economics class we learned that the goal of an economic system is to efficiently use and equitably distribute resources in a society.  Somewhere, it seems like we've veered off course.

Is it an efficient use of resources to cut down trees, burn fossil fuels, pollute our land, air and water to make cups, cartons and cameras that will only be used once and then thrown into landfills?  Is it equitable that executives receive million dollar bonuses as they lay off hundreds of workers?  Does it make sense that in a time and place of so much natural, material and technological wealth, food banks are serving record numbers of people?

It seems like business as usual isn't working for us anymore.

In her book, True Wealth (previously published as Plenitude), Juliet Schor suggests an alternative.  In a nutshell, she suggests that we work less, buy less, create more and connect more.  If people could work fewer hours, we could reduce unemployment by sharing the work amongst more people.  The lower income associated with shorter hours could also restrict consumption, thereby saving natural resources.  Fewer hours at work also means more hours of leisure, which people could use to create more on their own (through cooking, sewing, DIY projects, etc.).  Finally, more free time means more time to connect with other people and build community.

Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.

Thanking people

There's a hadith that says whomsoever does not thank people, has not thanked God.  And there's a verse in the Qur'an that says "If you are thankful, I will surely give you more." (14:7).

If you look at the verse on it's own, the connection between being thankful and getting more is not that obvious.  Of course we believe that it's true, but how being thankful can get us more is not clear.  We believe in the connection as an act of faith.

The hadith, however, gives a clue to at least one mechanism through which being thankful can get us more.  People are far more inclined to give to those who appreciate their efforts than to those who don't.  So, by thanking people, we endear ourselves to them so that they will be inclined to give us more.  It's one way that God gives us more if we are thankful.

I need you to need me

I need you to need me
So I can know
I have a place in your life
A space in your life
Reserved
For me

The gift economy

There's a gift economy and a market economy.

In the gift economy, goods and services are given without condition of reciprocation.  This is what you see in families and friendships.  Parents do not expect payment for the food they serve their children at the dinner table.  Friends don't charge a fee for advice or company.  Goods and services are given and given and given.  They may be returned or they may not.

On a balance sheet of tangibles there may not be a profit.  But on both sides of the transaction, invaluable intangibles grow with compound interest.

Brain exercise

I mentioned to my friend today that I've found that writing these daily posts has been really beneficial for me.  She asked me why.  I told her it's helped me to know myself better -- to be able to see the patterns and recurring themes in my daily thoughts.

But just this evening, as I struggled to write my daily post while sitting in front of the television, and then struggled again in another room where I could still hear the television in the background, and then finally moved to another room and closed the door so I can hear myself think, I've found another reason.  Writing every day forces me to sit and think and concentrate and stop listening to the noise and stop reading yet another entertaining book or article.  It forces me to think and hear my own thoughts.  And record them.  And arrange them.  And expand on them.  And link them together.  And evaluate them.  So that I can write something and post it.

With so much to learn and read and so many distractions and options for entertainment, it's easy to lose yourself in this feast of information -- to just take in more and more and more.  But just as it's not healthy to simply eat and never exercise, I don't think it's healthy to simply absorb external input into the brain and leave it sitting there.  The brain needs its exercise too.

Even a smile is charity

Our Girl Guide and Brownie unit was selling cookies today in front of the Metro at Liberty Village.  We had our cartons of cookies stacked in a little display near the store's entrance.  The girls were carrying a box in each hand (later reduced to only one box carried with both hands because too many boxes were getting dropped), eager to display their wares and sell them to interested customers.  Each time anyone came approached the door, the girls would ask, in the sweetest way they could, and often in unison, "Would you like to buy some Girl Guide cookies?"

Lots of people did.  In fact, we completely ran out of cookies about 10 minutes before the girls were getting picked up by their parents.  It was great.

But of course, not everyone bought cookies.  Lots of people walked right past us.  Some were busy talking on their phones.  Some completely ignored us.

And some would say "No, thank you." or "Sorry, I've already bought a bunch of cookies from my (friend/niece/grand daughter/etc.)" or "No, thanks, but good luck on the campaign!" and they would smile.

We appreciated that.

It also made a difference.

Feeding hungry hearts

When we started Project Downtown, we learned that it's not just about feeding hungry stomachs, but also hungry hearts.  So, when we go out and deliver our food packages, we try to stop and talk to the people we meet, ask them how they're doing and listen to them.  It's our small attempt to alleviate hunger in the heart as well as the stomach.

Today, I was reminded again of how the benefits of giving don't fall solely upon the recipient.

As we were walking back to the car after delivering our packages, we passed a group of the guys opening their packages and eating the sandwiches we made.  They smiled and thanked us and wished us a good evening and a good weekend.  We wished them the same.  My heart swelled.

After Project Downtown, a few of us had dinner together and spent the rest of the evening chatting and hanging out.  I love to spend an evening spent chatting and hanging out with friends.  It just fills me up.  And because we do Project Downtown every week, we get to hang out every week as well.  And I realized that Project Downtown also feeds my own hungry heart.

Ecological responsibility

I was invited to gave a talk on ecological responsibility today at the Multifaith Centre at U of T as part of their Faiths Engaging the World Lunch Series.  When I was preparing for the talk, I came across the verse in the Qur’an that describes the slaves of the Most Merciful.

In Surah Furqan, chapter 25, verse 63, it says: 

wa ‘ibaadurahmani lladhina yamshuna ‘ala al ardi hawnan

And the slaves of the Most Merciful are those who walk on the earth easily (gently, with dignity but without arrogance)

What a beautiful verse to describe ecological responsibility; walking on the earth gently, easily, with humility (which are all meanings that can be found in the word hawn).  It’s treading lightly on the earth, with humility.

For a truly humble servant could never destroy, pollute and waste the gifts of his Master.

Useful - not used

A good leader makes people feel useful, without making them feel used.

Technological burdens

A few days ago, I went out for a walk with my friend.  Because of the outage in the Blackberry network, she left her phone at home.

As we walked and talked and then sought shelter from the rain, she remarked how free she felt without her Blackberry.  She had no idea what sort of messages she missed.  Due to the outage, she couldn't know and didn't have to know and was quite content not knowing.

I wonder how many technological innovations become burdensome to their owners like this.

Initially conceived as a way to make lives easier, to enable us to do what we couldn't do before, they somehow make our lives more difficult and stressful.  For the ability to do something is often quickly followed with the expectation to do it.  If you don't have a smart phone, you can't read and answer email anytime from anywhere.  But if you do have one, not only can you read and answer email from wherever you are, but you are now expected to.  Even if that expectation comes only from yourself, it's something else that draws your attention, something else on your mental to do list, another distraction.

Is it worth it?  I don't know.

But for the time being, I'm not going to try to find out.

Exclusion

There is a hadith that says, if three people are together, two of them should not whisper to each other in the presence of the third because it would sadden him.

I always thought that third person would be hurt because he would think that the other two were whispering about him.

I realized recently that it's not just that.   Even if he knows exactly what the other two are talking about, the third person could be hurt simply because he is being excluded.  What he sees is that for some reason, he is not good enough to be included with the other two.  Whether the whisperers are excluding the third person intentionally or they are just mindlessly exchanging information that they didn't think the third person was interested in, the effect is the same.

As social creatures, exclusion creates in us a very distinct kind of pain.  Unfortunately, even though it's felt very acutely, the social pain of exclusion can be inflicted completely unintentionally -- with the perpetrators oblivious to the hurt of their victim.  Since victims don't always share their pain with those who have inflicted it, the perpetrators often remain oblivious, which leaves them prone to hurting people again in a similar way.

May we all be guided and protected from hurting people this way and from being hurt by them.

Asking for help

It's hard to ask for help.

When I was writing my thesis, I struggled alone for months -- maybe even a year or more -- afraid to ask for help.  I didn't think anyone could help me.  I didn't want to burden anyone with my problems.  I was afraid of what people would think of me if I came to them with such a terrible piece of work.  I was afraid they would think I was incompetent. 

Fortunately, with help from friends and family (who came to help me before I was able to ask), I learned to ask for help.  This was one of the biggest lessons I took from graduate school.   It was instrumental to me finally being able to finish and graduate.

Now, while I'm taking time off and I'm not working or studying, I get to see asking for help from another perspective.

Without work or school, it's easy to feel lost, to feel out of place, to not have a place to belong.  I think the main reason I've been spared much of that is that people ask me for help.

It's little things, like picking up groceries, editing an essay, helping my neighbour bake muffins, or taking my friend's child to the doctor.  It takes just a few minutes here, maybe a couple of hours there.  None of the tasks are difficult or extraordinary, but the pleasure and satisfaction I get from first being asked and then being able to do something are tremendous.   I'm honoured.  I feel like I belong somewhere.  I feel like I matter and that I make a difference -- however small it may be.

It's like those puzzle pieces.  When we struggle alone, we're like separate pieces lying scattered on the table.  When we ask and give help, we're putting pieces together.  We're giving each other a place to fit.

Obstacles on the road

Sometimes, the road of life is smooth and easy.

Sometimes, it get's a little bit rocky and uncomfortable.  The road isn't too bad, but it's not good either.  It's certainly not bad enough to consider turning around, retracing your steps and finding a better road.  So you stay on it telling yourself that the road could get better any time now.  You never know what's up ahead.  You chug along.

Then sometimes, the road becomes almost impassable.  Life gets really, really hard. 

Some obstacles on the road give you no choice but to stop.  And think.  What is this road?  Where is it going?  How badly do I want to get there?  Is this the only road that I can take?  Could I try another path?  Would I prefer to go somewhere else?

As frustrating as they are, the obstacles on the road -- especially the really big ones -- give us an opportunity to think, to regroup and to question our goals and assumptions.  Then we can strengthen our resolve to continue on this path or to try another one.

What do you want to do?

Seems like a simple question, doesn't it?

I remember a friend asking me this close to ten years ago.   He had asked me what I wanted to do after graduating and I mentioned something along the lines of whatever would make my family happy.

I actually didn't see it as my own choice to make.  I saw my life as an optimization problem where my task was to do whatever would be most pleasing to people around me.   I was quite content with that.

My friend wasn't.

He tried to ask me what I wanted to do.   I told him it doesn't matter what I wanted to do and so I never really put much thought into it.  I didn't know what I wanted to do and I wasn't too keen on figuring it out.  I honestly didn't think that what I wanted was important.  My plan was to do whatever I needed to do, to do my duty and do what was needed of me.

My, how things have changed...

Now, I find myself devoting much of my time trying to figure out the answer to that question that I didn't even think was worth answering.  What do I want to do?

If I've learned anything in the past few years, it's that I don't want to do what I don't want to do.  It's just too hard.  And painful.  And frustrating.  And a waste of my time and effort.  A waste of my life.

So, while I have the luxury and the opportunity to do it, I'm going to spend some time trying to figure out some answers.  Because now, I want to do what I want to do.

Salmon run

We watched the salmon run today at Etienne Brule Park.   It was another beautiful day in this unusually warm Thanksgiving long weekend.  Lots of people were out in the park.   Lots of people were watching the salmon.

We cheered each time one of the fish struggled frantically to get up the falls.  And we sighed in sympathy and disappointment each time one of them didn't make it up.  We didn't actually see any of them make it up today.  But from the cheering we heard when we were walking on the path on the other side of the falls, we're pretty sure that one of them did.

Regardless of whether they made it, their struggle was moving to watch.  As silly as it seemed, we couldn't help but to cheer them on.  We could see how hard they were swishing their tails to push themselves up the waterfall.  And we could see them trying again and again each time the water pushed them back down.

I don't think these fish have any idea that we were watching or cheering them on.  They were just doing what they had to do.  And in doing that, and in struggling and not giving up, they impacted people in ways they don't even know.

Things that matter

I started writing on this blog every day for two weeks before really telling anyone about it.  I don't know why, but I was scared. 

It's easy to do things that don't matter -- that have little to no potential impact.  If I sew something just for fun, talk to someone about the weather or write something that almost no one is going to read, there's no pressure.  It doesn't really matter.  Whether I do it well or not, it hardly makes a difference.  But that's just the problem, isn't it?  It doesn't matter.  Why do things that don't matter?

Answer: Fear.

When you do things that matter, there's a chance that you'll do something wrong or something people don't like.  There may be negative consequences.  But that's just the risk you'll have to take. 

Because there may be positive consequences as well. 

But you'll only know if you do things that matter.

Thankfulness

There is a verse in the Qur'an that can be translated as: "If you are thankful, I will surely give you more." (14:7).

It's a guarantee.

So much so, that when people complained to some scholars about their straitened circumstances, these scholars would ask them to reflect on the quality of their thankfulness.

Because the verse says, "If you are thankful, I will surely give you more." (14:7).

Three hearts

Every Friday afternoon, my friends and I do Project Downtown.  We put together packages of food and snacks - lately it's been a hot dog or hamburger, a granola bar or two, a cheese bun and/or a muffin, an orange, a banana and juice - and distribute them to people hanging around City Hall who look like they would appreciate the food. 

We learned about Project Downtown four years ago, when a student from the US came to Toronto and introduced it to us.  One of the things he told us has really stuck with me.

Recently, I realized that it's something that applies to any good work or act of kindness done to benefit another person.

He said that when we go out and do Project Downtown, our actions touch three hearts.  One, we touch the heart of the recipient.  Two, we touch the heart of the person who sees us do what we do.  And three, we touch our own hearts.

How are you? Really?

How often do you say 'How are you?' out of habit?  How many times has someone asked you the question without waiting for the answer?  How do you answer when you're not actually fine or good or great or okay?

Can we ask the question differently?  Should we ask How are you feeling? How are you, really? How are you on a scale of one to ten?

It's an important question.  We need to ask it.  We need to answer it.  We need to hear the answer.  We need to have our answer heard.

Seventy excuses

One of the great early Muslims, Hamdun al-Qassar, said, “If a friend among your friends errs, make seventy excuses for them.  If your hearts are unable to do this, then know that the shortcoming is in your own selves.”

I use this one a lot.

I love working in the community where the efforts of a group of people combine to create something greater than the sum of its parts.  But, as in any enterprise involving people, mistakes will be made.  The ball will be dropped (sometimes by me, which is another reason why I use it a lot).  And often, things will not go exactly as planned. 

When this happens, rather than attribute the error to malice, carelessness and disrespect, we make excuses for our friend.  We don't even need to make seventy.  I find once I get to two or three, I start feeling better already. 

I've always thought of this tradition as a good way of maintaining social relations.  And it is.  It keeps us from planting seeds of ill will against each other.  But besides that, it also helps us maintain a good emotional state within ourselves.  For as much as the way we see the world might affect how we treat other people, it really affects ourselves the most.

In the eye of the beholder

True beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  That was the topic in our Toastmasters table topics competition today.  Thankfully, I didn't participate.  I can only imagine what nonsense I would have blabbered on about if I was tasked with talking about this for 1-2 minutes, impromptu.   As a member of the audience, though, I had the benefit of a whole day to think about it.

I thought of how much of what we see is as much a reflection of our selves as it is of what we're looking at.  Sheikh Mukhtar Maghraoui talks about this with respect to what we see with our hearts.  Just as the eyes are organs of perception, so is the heart.  The heart can sense and be moved by beauty in the world around it.

But not all hearts see equally well.  Hearts can become clouded by evil thoughts and actions.  Such hearts may no longer be able to see beauty or they may see the beautiful as ugly.  So we struggle to purify our hearts with good thoughts and good actions.  In the hopes that we can see clearly again.  In the hopes that we can see and be moved by beauty.

Upside down and backwards

I was reading Charles le Gai Eaton's book, King of the Castle today.  In it, he makes a very interesting point about religion and our modern world.  Our modern western society is unique in that it dismisses or puts in the periphery, what all other societies before it had made central in their lives -- namely a belief in the Divine and in an existence beyond our material world.

These beliefs came and still come in many forms.  But they were always there.  Somehow, all humans before us believed in a power beyond themselves.  They saw our world as part of something bigger.

Now, many people view such beliefs as backwards and incompatible with rational thought.  So what they're saying is that our ancestors in humanity -- all of them, for millenia -- have been completely wrong and it is only now, in the past century or so, that we got it right.

Now that is something have a hard time believing.

The joys of doing

There is so much at our fingertips.  We can read about anything, talk to anyone, buy anything we need from anywhere in the world without even getting out of bed.  It's all so convenient.

Just like anything else, convenience also has a cost.  I'm not referring to cost in terms of dollars and cents.  I mean cost in terms of what we've lost or what we give up in exchange for convenience.  These costs include loss of skills, self-reliance and the sheer joy of doing.

But they're not really lost.  They're just available through alternative options.

The great thing with conveniences it that they're optional.  We don't have to do things the easy way.  We can cook instead of eat out, sew something instead of buy it, do something ourselves instead of paying someone else to do it.  Along with the final product of a meal to eat or an item to use or something that's been fixed, doing things with our own two hands gives us experience, improved skills and satisfaction that money can't buy.

When dreams meet reality

I pulled up an old email a while back.  It was written four years ago.  I wrote it to one of the leaders in  my community, telling him about some of the things I hope to work on and achieve, so that he could assign me tasks accordingly.  Looking at what I wrote, I realize how much things have changed -- or how much I have changed.

It's not that I'm now opposed to the goals and plans I wrote about.  No.  I still believe that these are good things to do.  But what I see in that email was a tremendous amount of hope and optimism that I have since lost.  Reading that email, I'm almost astounded by the naivete of this girl who had and expressed these dreams just a few years back.  It's sad.  I couldn't imagine writing the same thing now -- or even anything close to it.

Maybe that's just how things go.  We have dreams, we try to implement them and when they encounter reality, they get changed, or lost, or broken, or crushed.  Then what are we supposed to do?  Do we find our dreams again, put them back together and try again?  Just the thought of doing that puts a knot in my chest.  Or do we stop dreaming -- put these dreams back on the shelf where they will be safe from the hazards of reality and where they will remain as mere dreams?  No.  I can't do that.  What is the point of the day to day struggle if there is nothing to strive for?   No, I won't shelve my dreams.

No, I'm going to find those dreams again.  I'm going to put them back together and nourish them back to health and try to bring them to reality again.  The alternative is just unacceptable.

Courage and the comfort zone

I've always admired courage -- speaking out against injustice, challenging the status quo, doing what's right in the face of everyone telling you you're wrong.  That's what makes a hero.  Heroes have the courage of their convictions.  I've been reading about these heroes since I was a kid.

By definition, courage can only be exhibited outside the comfort zone.  Trying to be courageous while staying in your comfort zone is about as meaningful as trying to swim on dry land.  Just as swimming only exists in the presence of water, courage only exists in the presence of fear or uncertainty.

My good friend Nazima reminded me of this today.  Because they are frightening and uncomfortable, it is in those times when the odds seem stacked against us and we don't know how it's going to turn out -- that's when we have the chance to display courage.

Freedom and responsibility

I've been taking time off lately.  After finishing my PhD I wanted to spend some time thinking and looking around before jumping into my next big project or job or time commitment.  So, for the past few months, I've been pretty much doing whatever I want, whenever I want.  It's pretty awesome.

Today, it hit me that with this freedom comes responsibility.  It's great to be able to choose what to do each day but that means that I have to choose what to do each day.  There's no boss telling me what to do.  The responsibility of using my time wisely lies squarely on my shoulders.  I can't delegate it to someone else.

It's very easy to take the easy road and lose hours and hours to reading news commentary or watching YouTube.  But like that standing-on-a-hill analogy, although it's fun to run down the hill, it's not much fun afterwards, when you find yourself at the bottom.  I need to keep that empty, at-the-bottom-of-the-hill feeling in mind before I start down the slippery slope of YouTube or Huffington Post.

Freedom is wonderful.  But in and of itself, it's no key to happiness.  That key lies in the choices I make with the freedom I've been given

Rethinking our habits

How many of the things we do, do we do out of habit?  Lots of them, probably.  It's not practical to thoroughly weigh the pros and cons of the hundreds of miniscule actions and choices we make every day.  What time should I wake up?  What should I eat for breakfast?  Which toothpaste do I use?  What should I wear?  How do I get to work?  For most of these things, we find something that works and we stick with it.  Out of habit.

For many of the things we do every day, our habits suit us and everyone else just fine.  But there are some habits that aren't benign.  Some habits cause us to waste money.  Some waste our time.  Some, such as getting a morning coffee in a disposable cup or driving long distances to work every day in a single passenger vehicle, damage the environment that we depend on to live.  Looked at in isolation, these appear to be miniscule actions with miniscule impact.  But multiplied over time amongst millions of people, they add up.  They add up to landfills and floating islands of garbage in the ocean and smog and climate change.

These problems can be depressing to think about.  What can we do to clean up our oceans or mitigate climate change?

Such questions are overwhelming if you're trying to address these problems single-handedly.  But these problems weren't created single-handedly.  They're the sum of seemingly miniscule actions with seemingly miniscule impacts done by millions of people over time.  The existence of these problems shows the tremendous power of our daily habits and the enormous impact they can make on the world.

Now what would happen if we changed them?

The train

A few years ago, I read about how it's like we're all riding a train.  As this train of progress hurtles along, we keep making improvements.  We make the seats more comfortable, we dampen the noise, we improve the climate control but we never look to see that this train is heading towards an abyss.

I think we know about the abyss now.  Climate change, food security, air pollution, declining fish stocks and general environmental degradation are on the radar.  Now, it's a matter of changing the course of this train. 

Listening to the stillness

Just now, as I sat down to write a new blog post, I instinctively started clicking around my web browser, checking different sites, looking for inspiration based on what's going on today.  After a few seconds, I stopped.  I wasn't going to write about the headlines on the Huffington Post.

It's so easy to lose myself in the deluge of information that comes onto this little screen.  Sometimes, I just need to stop.  And listen to the stillness.

Aligned Personal Functioning

A few years ago, I attended a leadership training program given by Anima Leadership.  I've attended leadership programs before.  Several of them.  But this one was different.  This leadership program changed the way that I think of and work with people -- including the way I think of and work with myself.  I would even venture to say that it's changed the course of my life -- hopefully for the better.

The program was sponsored by the university and all the participants were engineering graduate students.  I don't know if Anima runs all their leadership programs this way or they were tailoring it for this particularly left-brained audience, but we spent the first half day or more of the three day program learning about emotions -- essentially, learning that they exist and that they're important.  Pretty basic, I know.  But to an audience of engineering graduate students, this pretty much went against everything we had learned in life up to this point.

We learned that whether we like it or not, we feel.  And, consciously or subconsiously (and usually the latter), these feelings affect the way we act and interact with people.  Even when we try to mask our feelings, people can often sense that something is wrong. 

Having established that we have feelings, we then learned how to work with them.  We learned about triggers and how the stories we tell ourselves can stir up and reinforce certain emotions.  We learned about leadership in a personal context, in a team and in the community.  One of the main things we learned was that we can function most effectively when what we feel, what we think, what we say and what we do are in alignment.  They call this aligned personal functioning.

Suddenly, I understood why I had such trouble doing certain things.  Like working on some projects or going to some meetings.  Often, I did these things because I thought that's what I should be doing.  I didn't want to do them.  I didn't really believe in them.

Now I realized why they didn't feel right.  And beyond that, my new found understanding of feelings and their importance gave me the permission I needed to not do these things anymore.  And, more importantly, to choose to do other things.

The 'enough' point

In economics, we learn about diminishing returns.  Imagine you have a plot of land a certain size.  When you first start planting, you'll find that each plant you plant will give you an increase in output.  As the plot gets more crowded, the increased output that you get with the addition of each new plant will decrease.  For example, at first, maybe you'll find that each tomato plant gives you 20 tomatoes.  When the plot gets crowded, a new plant may only get you 18, then 15, then 10.  And then there comes a point that it gets so crowded that the new plants will decrease the yield of the plants that were already there.

We also see the effect of diminishing returns for possessions.  If you have nothing, the first few possessions you get will bring you a great deal of joy.  Once you have your basic essentials, new possessions may still bring you joy, but not as much as those first few.  If you already have a lot of stuff, getting new things might actually start to be a pain.  You don't have space to store them.  You don't have time to use them or maintain them.  It becomes just another thing to clean and put away and think about.

This also works for activities.  It's nice to have a lot going on in your life.  But after a certain point, it can get to be too much and each new time commitment becomes more stress than enjoyment.

The 'enough' point is the point at which new possessions/activities bring you more harm than good.  This is the point where you've had enough.

A matter of effort

One of the biggest things I learned in graduate school is that, for all but the most trivial of projects, there is a positive correlation between results and efforts.  It seems rather simple, yes, I know.  The more effort you put into something, the better the results are likely to be.

But in all my years of education up until graduate school, this wasn't what I learned from experience.  Maybe the assignments and projects were too easy.  Or I just enjoyed the work so much that I didn't notice that I was putting a lot of effort in to get the results I got.

By the time I got to graduate school, I had made an art of putting the minimum amount of effort into something to get the maximum result.  I saw it as a matter of efficiency. Since efficiency is output over input, reducing the amount of input required to produce a given output increases the efficiency. So, if the grading scheme is such that an A+ is anything between 85%-100%, I would aim for 85% and no more.  I would actually submit assignments, knowing that some of the answers were wrong, calculating that the amount of effort it would take me to get those right wasn't going to impact my letter grade. 

I cringe now, remembering this.

Anyways, unfortunately (or fortunately, when you think of the bigger lesson I learned), this strategy didn't work when it came to research in graduate school.  Unlike school assignments, where you can't get more than an A+, there's no ceiling on the positive result of a research project.  Every week, the brilliant people all around me who were putting their full effort into their research and presenting their results were putting the results of my efficiency strategy in stark relief.  It became clear that holding back on the effort was a flawed strategy.

It took me some time to accept this, though.  Replacing a habit acquired through nearly two decades of life experience isn't going to be instantaneous.  In addition to that, this habit was grounded in a pervasive belief in my schools growing up that if you're really smart, you don't need to try that hard.  Dr. Carol Dweck calls this the fixed mindset.  And it's not helpful.  I needed to acquire the growth mindset, that says that you can effectively make yourself smarter by trying harder.  Or that effort leads to result.

Anyways, inspired by Seth Godin's blog post, I'm going to apply this hard earned lesson and start writing regularly and publicly in my effort to become a better writer.

Puzzle pieces

I love jigsaw puzzles. While helping my neighbour with her jigsaw puzzle one evening, I started thinking that puzzle pieces are a lot like people. They're all different. They have different shapes and different colours. On their own, they even look a bit quirky and odd. But each one of the protrusions that awkwardly jut out from one puzzle piece will fill a cavity in another piece. When we start bringing pieces together, we start finding places where every piece fits. And when every piece has been placed where it fits, we have a beautiful picture.