THE PERSPECTIVE TREE

I work in what used to be a convent. Outside my office window is a giant sequoia tree. It is over a century old, which is relatively young for a sequoia. Barring any natural or human-instigated catastrophe, that tree could very well stand where it is for another millennia or two. 

I've come to view that tree as a persistent symbol of perspective. As important as my work may seem to me or anybody else today, odds are it will not last as long as that tree has - let alone as long as it could last. Whatever I'm working on may matter in the here and now, but it probably won't matter much decades from now. A century from now it will probably be forgotten. The tree is more likely to endure.

I suppose that could be discouraging, but for me it's helpful. What matters is entirely relative. What matters right now to a defined group of people may not matter at all to a different group or even to the same group in the future. What matters to me won't matter to everyone. What matters to me now may not matter to me tomorrow. None of that is to say that whatever you're doing isn't worthwhile. It probably is in your context. If it matters to someone, then it does matter. And maybe it will change the world (although I'm not entirely sure why everyone seems to use that as a goal these days - but more on that another time). Maybe a century from now you and your thing will continue to be regarded as something remarkable. But it's also okay if you aren't. And being comfortable with that could actually make your work and life easier. It helps strip away some of the stress and pressure. 

One final note on the tree: it was planted by the parents of a young girl when she first came to study at the convent. They planted it, I assume, in the hope that it would be a symbol of their pride and affection for their daughter. I figure the world is a better place if that is the kind of thing that endures. 

THEY DON'T NEED YOU TO BE SMART

Nobody likes to look like an idiot. That's why the phrase "I don't know" can be remarkably difficult to say. But the one thing that will always be worse than admitting you don't know is pretending you do and then getting it wrong. Because then you look not only like an idiot but also an unreliable liar.

Not that smart is a bad thing, but people don't always need you to be smart. Sure, they need you to be reasonably competent and knowledgeable. But, more than that, they need you to be reliable. They need you to be trustworthy. They need you to be honest. And they need you to care enough to try to find answers to things you don't know. I'd take all those things over smart any day.

IT IS UP TO THEM

Policy decision, business change, campaign promise, crowd-funded idea, whatever - even the best ideas are only as good as your ability to implement. Making the choice or declaring the idea is half the battle, but only winning half the battle is losing. Can you deliver? As Godin would say, can you ship?

And the tricky part to implementation is that it isn't entirely up to you. It's also, to a large degree, up to them - the people your thing affects. Clients, customers, citizens, employees, voters, funders. If they don't get it, don't trust it or don't buy it - as perfect and beautiful and elegant and better as it may be - your thing doesn't matter. You need to help them, but they get to decide. 

More often than not, they will decide not based on what they think about your thing but based on how they feel about you. And that is going to be heavily determined by how you make them feel about themselves. When we talk about "hearts and minds" there's a reason "hearts" comes first.

VIEWS AND LIKES AND LIES

We're spoiled for data these days, and spoiled for opportunities to use it meaningless ways. I read a column recently about the alleged evils of wi-fi and its impact on children. It profiled a doctor from the "wi-fi is evil" camp and noted how many thousand videos her YouTube lecture had. This was offered as evidence that what she said was valid. Which is, of course, pointless.

YouTube views are exactly the kind of vanity stats that get trotted out all the time as evidence of the importance of something. But all that means is a bunch of people have watched your video. It tells you nothing about why they watched or what they thought of it. Popularity is no proxy for validity or value. If we're to believe otherwise, it would mean that Gangnam Style with its billions of views is the best music we have, and I don't think anyone is prepared to make that argument.

I'm not judging the validity of the wi-fi doctor's argument. I'm just saying how many people watch (or don't watch) her video has no bearing on its validity, and it's dishonest to suggest it does. History is filled with popular but wrong ideas that ended up being set aside, and less popular ideas that changed the world. Just ask Galilieo or Rosa Parks. The point is, if likes or visits are the best evidence you have to support your argument, you need either better evidence or a better argument.

FORGET THE BOX

Thinking outside the box has become such a cliche that it now means pretty much the opposite of what people intend when they say it. If you're still defining yourself and your thing in the context of the box, you're missing the point. You're living a lie. Forget about the box. Don't worry about whether you are inside it or outside it. The box does not exist. It's an artificial construct that only has as much power as you give it.

Oh I know, there are rules and expectations and norms that at some point you and your thing are going to bump up against. But norms and expectations are just that - they aren't immutable laws of the universe (those you do kinda need to live with). And one rule worth remembering is the one that says the rules can always be rewritten. 

Granted, there is no rule that says this will be easy. But if you want easy, keep thinking in a world of boxes. Keep starting from a place with limits. Keep starting from the belief that there's a clearly defined boundary between possible and impossible. If that's where you're comfortable, that's fine. You won't be lonely. But you'll also never really be free. Someone will put you in a box eventually. Or at least they'll try. You're under no obligation to make it easy for them. 

THESE ARE NOT YOUR PEOPLE

There will always be people who won't believe you. There will always be people who won't see what you see. There will always be people who won't listen - to reason, to passion, to logic, to ideas, to truth. There will always be people rooted in place. There will always be people too afraid to try, to risk, to imagine, to hope, to act, to trust. There will always be people content to move the same pieces around the same board. There will always be people who need a map. There will always be people who don't understand your art, whatever form it takes. There will always be people who only draw lines to divide and not connect. There will always be people who believe in boxes. There will always be people who suppress their restless hearts. There will always be people who have given up on wonder. There will always be people who think they are smarter. There will always be people who need you to be wrong so they can be right. There will always be people who make right harder. 

These are not your people. And you don't have to be one of them. 

WHY ARE WE HERE?

"We create institutions to serve missions, to serve a purpose. But a lot of times, after a while, maintaining the institution becomes the purpose."

- Yong Zhao

That's the risk for any institution that has been around for a while. It was established with some noble purpose that everyone who joined it may believe in deeply. That purpose probably remains front and centre in annual reports and strategic plans and communication materials. But somewhere along the line, decisions start being made that don't necessarily line up. 

It starts small enough and usually with the best of intentions. But before you know it, somehow things start to be done not in the best interests of fulfilling that original purpose but in the best interests of meeting the administrative needs of the institution. You can see how it happens. The institution has become so established and so interconnected with the purpose, it starts to seem indispensable. Longevity and tradition replace meaning and impact as measures of progress. And then the people inside the institution start to confuse existing with doing. Then they lose touch, and then they lose trust, and then lose their ability to actually achieve their purpose because nobody believes in them anymore. And then the thread is lost.

Effective institutions don't ever think they matter more than their purpose. Effective institutions don't ever forget who they serve, and they know it's not themselves. Effective institutions don't assume their original purpose is even still valid. Great institutions are aspirational. They constantly question. They challenge their own beliefs and place, and are even willing to step aside if they can't find a way to matter. That takes a lot of courage. But courage is probably what got them started in the first place. An institution that loses its courage will almost surely lose its way. But you can find your way back.