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.