Not fighting.

Ok, so if you follow or know me, you probably know that I train in the Japanese martial art of aikido. That said, if this doesn’t make sense to you, my apologies. But hopefully, you’ll be able to take something from it. If nothing else, maybe you’ll get an inkling of how “not fighting” can work.

If you want to know more about aikido or the dojo where I train give a holler. I look forward to talking with you. :)

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A new person has joined our dojo community. What a pleasure…new faces, new wonderful ukes (partners) to train with. This person has lots of experience and, I can tell, has been training for years. His technique is well-studied and he has a great attitude.

And he’s big. Not tall, just built. And strong. With attacks in motion, he’s wonderful to work with. It’s kind of like practicing with a live blade; when you see a strike coming with all the mass he has to deliver behind it, you move. NOW. For if you don’t, you’re going to get flattened.

The real challenge comes in his grabs. They hurt. Intentional or not, he clamps down extremely hard, and every time I’m paired with him on a katate (wrist grab) technique, I simply take it as a given that I’m going to come out bruised.

So there I am. The fight within becomes a struggle between the heart-felt desire to welcome and train with every individual in the dojo without pause or hesitation, and the simple self-preserving desire to avoid this individual due to the dread of ending up with black and blue forearms.

The lesson I take? Not fighting. Our Path teaches us not to fight, but to move. To arrive beyond the attack before it comes. To not plan ahead, but to control and lead.

In this case, I make the decision to let my inner conflict dissolve away and take the situation as it comes. When sensei finishes his or her demonstration, I look down the line for the eyes of a partner to train with–to lend me their body so that I might learn. And should my eyes meet his, I welcome him, but with inner caution, for I know that he is a live blade.

In practical terms, I can talk to him and simply ask him to not grab as hard. Or I can move earlier and not let the grab fully develop. In any case, I have options. I have ways to take the fight out of the situation before that dreaded stalemate of pain occurs.

Aikido teaches us the lessons of the Art of Peace lie within everything, everyone and every situation. They are only there for us to listen and learn from them.

Here, I’ve learned control. I’ve learned to talk. I’ve learned to be brave enough to confront someone causing me pain–and still find the peace and strength to welcome them into my sphere again.

Crayon living.

“Oh, be serious.”

With crayons, you just can’t.

Write the words “Be serious.” with a black Sharpie. Now, write the exact same words in Vivid Violet. What happened?

By the nature of the medium, your communication has gone from being hard and, well, serious, to downright whimsical.

So, why crayons? Here’s a quick scribble of quick crayon ideas for your noodle:

1. Everything can be fun. Write “Pick up dry cleaning” with a ballpoint pen. Now, write it in Burnt Sienna. Now write it one more time using 5 different crayon colors, alternating colors for each letter. (You’ve done this before, haven’t you?) Now, look at the task again. Does the new look change your motivation?
2. Open-ended permanence. Crayons can’t be erased. They’re permanent. But it’s different than Sharpie permanence. Crayon permanence is “oops” permanence. Not, “OMG, you really f***ed that up and now you’ll pay” permanence. With crayons, we learn by doing and by making mistakes. But we smile at those mistakes and then transform them into something new by simply adding a little more creativity.
3. Fuzzy lines. You can’t draw a hard line with a crayon. It’s not possible. A crayon line, by its nature, is filled with and surrounded by whitespace. That’s space where, if we let it, our imagination fills in the blanks.
4. Snapability. Just like people, a crayon must be treated according to its nature; that’s how we get the most out of it. Too much pressure and it snaps. Not enough and we don’t get good results. (If you’re a people manager, this idea might be especially applicable. Try using crayons and a flip chart instead of a whiteboard at your next team meeting and see how folks respond.)
5. Real paper. No whiteboards. No computers. No internet. No tapping of keyboards. (For once!) If you’re using crayons, it’s you and the sheet of paper. Sure, you can share it, but at the moment of creation, it’s all you. And living as we do in the world of electronic, virtual communcations, there’s something incredibly peaceful and grounding about sitting down with a box of crayons and a silent, blank piece of white construction paper. Really. Try it.
6. That smell. You know exactly what I mean. It’s the smell of 1st grade.
7. A whole spectrum of ideas. In 1902, the first crayon set had 8 colors. On their website, Crayola lists 120 colors as current, including names like Aquamarine, Blizzard Blue, Cornflower and Cerulean. (And those are just a few of the blues!) Business thinking comes in so many more colors than red, green, blue and black. How can we tap into that?
8. They’re non-toxic. Dunk one with your latte and chow down. No harm done. (Try THAT trick at a team meeting!)
9. Cool idea spawn. A great many thinkers out there have come up with a lot of amazing ideas as a result of crayons. Just look at Crayon Physics Deluxe, 2008 Grand Prize Winner of the Independent Games Festival. (Download the demo…it’s SO worth it.)

And number 10? Well, I leave that one up to you. What have crayons taught you?

Oh…and be serious. :)

*Paul

Cold warmth in the morning.

It’s cold. As I sit here writing on my front porch, it’s still early–just after sunrise–and I reflect upon the first 60 minutes of the day as the perspiration from my run dries on my skin. Today proves to be wonderful, because I’ve already felt the desert’s cool morning arms around my shoulders.

When I opened my eyes, the sky was still night dark. I thought it was still too early to get out of bed, but, feeling awake, my eyes were drawn to a bright watery light coming through the window to the west. There, an absolutely immense orange shebet moon stood balanced on the western horizon, ready to slide down the back of the mountains. Well, that was the first sign that I should get out of bed, get dressed and go out to share the morning with the moon.

After donning my running gear, I eased body and bones with a good stretch in the darkeness and then went out the front door, where I was greeted by wonder number two of the day: a bottle of red wine left by the doormat, blue envelope bearing my name attached. Since tonight we celebrate my fortieth year, I assume that it’s a gift for that occasion, but I have as yet not opened the note. I’m saving that surprise for later in the day.

So down the steps and out into the cold dark morning, silence broken by only the flip-flap of the flag across the street and the clank of the rope’s clips against the flagpole. And, of course, the singing of the windchimes I gave Joanna last year.

My feet take me through turns, down lanes, through the neighborhood. A few headlights here and there, a man walking two dogs waves.

And then, as I round the corner at about mile number two, the movement catches my eye and I quietly, quickly stop when greeted by wonder number three.

Saying good morning to a coyote through a simple look into each other’s eyes is always a pleasure. But today, I was greeted by a pack of eight, all stopped in their tracks and looking at me, and I at them. We all stared at one another as if to simply make sure that we were all on the same team, and then, after that moment of silence, they cautiously moved off down the wash, taking turns checking on me to make sure I wasn’t following. So, I just stood quietly, enjoying their silent padding across the desert floor, taking in how they were all the same and yet such individuals–especially the one bringing up the rear. His deep reddish coat and black tipped tail carried more color than I’ve ever seen in the usually sandy furred creatures.

And with a last look, he too disappeared.

The run finished quietly, and here I am–as I said–on my porch, fingers typing stiffly with the morning cold.

But it’s going to be an amazing day. I’ve already felt the welcoming cold warmth of the desert’s embrace.

Just a place to start…

Ok, I could start anywhere, but let’s start with education. It’s something I’m incredibly passionate about. It’s a field of professional focus. It’s fantastically frustrating. And it’s all about hope.

Today marks the 7th anniversary of good ‘ol NCLB. Check out today’s Wall Street Journal article by John D. McKinnon’s here: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123137380916262737.html?mod=dist_smartbrief.

Sure, test scores are improving. But while the article talks about the pros and cons and debates around NCLB, one of the key questions is really still on the sidelines: Are the standards and the tests covering the right bases? Are our students learning the skills they need to be successful going forward? What about skills like negotiation? Collaboration? Foreign language? Even truly clear, quality writing? These are all skills that research has shown will be important in the 21st century. More at http://www.21stcenturyskills.org/.

We all need to get involved and better informed about the system. I count myself in that group, especially having two youngsters of my own going through that system as I write this entry.

So keep the conversation going. Talk to teachers and policy makers. Be heard.