Improv Wisdom for a Meaningful Life

Posted on March 23, 2013 by

IMPROV WISDOM for a MEANINGFUL LIFE

A Playful Path to Courage, Creativity, and Connection 

Green Gulch Zen Center, Sausalito, CA * Mon-Wed, July 22nd-24th, 2013

Enrollment limited to approx. 14 participants

Path to Heaven Detlef Kuonen  In the long history of humankind (and animal kind) those who learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed.   –Charles Darwin

Dig below the surface and improvisation means much more than comedy. Creating in the moment, artists and athletes sharpen awareness and build resilience in the face of setbacks. Business leaders learn to innovate with nimble responsiveness. Educators find profound direction for teaching and learning. And spiritual seekers of all sorts discover layer after layer of philosophical and ethical insight. Approached with an open heart and contemplative mind, improvisation opens up uncountable paths of wisdom and meaning—all over the landscape of human experience.

This workshop will explore such possibility from the inside out. Together, we’ll create a safe, playful, experiential learning lab that stretches self-awareness and strengthens connection with others. Holding up the mirror of improv insights and exercises and  drawing from the well of rigorous contemplation, you will learn to:

  • Find and express greater spontaneity
  • Transform your approach to failure
  • Increase your sensory acuity and in-the-moment awareness
  • Trust your creative leanings
  • Improve your communication: better listening, clearer speaking, deeper understanding
  • Reach new levels of generosity
  • Collaborate with greater ease
  • Tell better stories

Prerequisites

This workshop is designed for those with little or no prior experience with improvisational theater. Those with more substantial improv chops who are just beginning to tap its deeper levels may also find the workshop fruitful. No particular religious or spiritual path is required, but those with an inquiring heart and open mind will gain the most from and contribute the most to the experience.

About the Instructors

Ted picture for webSince completing his graduate work at Stanford (MBA) and Harvard (Masters of Theology), Ted DesMaisons has taught religious studies and philosophy at Northfield Mount Hermon in western Massachusetts. He has studied improvisation with Patricia Ryan Madson, Bay Area Theater Sports (BATS) and Loose Moose, and has trained extensively with the Center for Courage and Renewal. Combining humor with gravitas and intention with inspiration, Ted helps create safe spaces for exploring what really matters. He writes regularly about improv, contemplation, and positive reinforcement on his TED WORDS blog (www.tedwordsblog.com).

Lisa Rowland pic for webOne of the most recognizable and most beloved teachers of improvisation in the world, Lisa Rowland has performed, coached, and conducted corporate trainings with San Francisco’s BATS mainstage company for more than seven years. Students from Palo Alto and the Presidio to Amsterdam and Arabia rave about the way she combines power and generosity in the service of their learning. A graduate of Stanford University and an uncannily astute observer of what’s needed next, Lisa was recently named the 2012 San Francisco Actor of the Year.

Patricia Ryan MadsonFounder of the Stanford Improvisors (SIMPS) and author of the artfully sage Improv Wisdom: Don’t Prepare, Just Show Up, special guest instructor Patricia Ryan Madson has followed a life path that has led her to landscapes, art forms, and deeper inquiries of all sorts. She has mentored multiple generations of compassionate players, many of whom continue to spread the good news of improv in her familiar, generous style. She has graciously agreed to join us for an evening’s session to share some of her insights and to help us generate our own.

Location and Accommodations

Gardens at Green Gulch.

Gardens at Green Gulch.

This retreat takes place at historic Green Gulch Zen Center just north of San Francisco.  The Center’s rolling hills, organic gardens, and meditative spaces will make an idyllic setting for our time together.  Muir Beach lies a short walk away.  With both private and communal space available, we will share three organic, primarily vegetarian meals each day. Guests will stay in simple, clean rooms, two to a room.  For more information about the setting, please visit the Center’s web site: http://www.sfzc.org/ggf/.

Cost

$550 per person. Includes all program fees, two nights lodging, and three meals per day. Full program fee due with registration. Payment refundable (minus $25 processing charge) if the workshop is full and you or we are able to find a replacement.  $35 discount for any referral who attends the workshop.

Registration/Contact Us

If you would like to register or if you have any questions about the workshop, please contact either facilitator. We’d be delighted to talk with you!

Ted DesMaisons: teddyd@stanfordalumni.org           Lisa Rowland: lcrowland@gmail.com

Muir Beach

Muir Beach, a short walk from the Green Gulch Zen Center.

Who am I here in this moment?       What choice is needed now?

How can I help those around me?

How does this story connect me to something larger or deeper?

Posted in Contemplation, Improv | 3 Comments

The Diversity-Unity Double Helix

Posted on February 10, 2013 by

 

Teachers at Northfield Mount Hermon met this week to work through concerns about equity and justice raised by our faculty of color. While at times difficult, the honest conversation opened up some previously blocked avenues for healing. I wrote the following as a continuation of that conversation.

Hello all.

I’m very glad that I came in for our faculty meeting yesterday so that I could listen to and learn from our conversations there. I especially appreciate the courage of you who spoke honestly about ways in which you’ve felt hurt, isolated, or underappreciated. That takes guts—and your courage impels us all to take further responsibility for building the community and school we intend. I’ve been thinking about our meeting since then and hope that sharing some of those thoughts here contributes to more discussion.

The Wheeler School's logo--an interweaving blend of two equally valuable elements.

The Wheeler School’s logo–an interweaving blend of two equally valuable elements.

A few years ago, I attended an alumni function at the Wheeler School in Providence, Rhode Island.[1] It caught my attention to see and hear that the school now frames its multicultural programs under the heading of “Unity and Diversity.” Though I’ve taken part in many multicultural trainings and worked hard to investigate and challenge my own considerable levels of privilege—I grew up male, white, heterosexual, educated, middle-class Christian—I’d never heard those two words linked so directly and so intentionally. The combination conveys an elegant truth I’d previously only felt: both diversity and unity are crucial components of full humanness. Calling for one without the other, I notice, activates a kind of defensiveness. I don’t want to have to give up or ignore either of the pair.

Unified, we create patterns impossible in isolation.

Unified, we create patterns impossible in isolation.

I long—and I trust that we all long—for some measure of unity. We thirst for connection, we yearn for belonging, and we seek shared experiences that stitch us together. We find untapped reserves of resolution and resilience when we have a common purpose. When we’re a part of an effective team, we accomplish far more than we could on our own. Athletes working in unison in the heat of competition, musicians finding the sweet spot of harmony, different folks pulling in the same workplace direction: they all generate significant joy and achievement.

Diverse patches make for a beautiful quilt......Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Diverse patches make for a beautiful quilt.
…..
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

I also know that we thrive when we can recognize and celebrate our differences. Each of us brings a unique perspective to any situation. Bringing out those multiple perspectives adds richness, vitality, flavor, and color. Our worldviews open up to wider vistas. As is true in any ecosystem, greater diversity increases our resilience to threats from outside. You can see and respond to threats that I cannot—and I offer the same for your blind or weak spots in return. We harness the difference in diversity and reach creative combinations that otherwise remain impossible. Faulty assumptions get corrected. The alloy strengthens the steel.

The tricky part comes in finding the right balance. Promoting diversity without a conscious effort toward unity can lead to a splintering that furthers distance and isolation. It can calcify resentment and fear—why are they getting privileges? what about my suffering? they can’t possibly understand what it’s like!—and foster self defeating hesitation—will I misstep? will they mock me? why would they want me to join them?

Unity programs with no political awareness can actually serve to whitewash over important differences.
…..
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Likewise, promoting unity without a full accounting for diversity can cause more harm than good, encouraging superficial smiles to whitewash histories of real division and pain. Calls for unity can morph into demands for conformity, especially destructive when the required conforming means having to adhere to a dominant ideal or privilege paradigm. “Can’t we all get along?” asks the naïve-to-racism white person, not realizing that the ‘getting along’ they suggest includes hopping on board with a white cultural, emotional, and interpersonal standard.

It’s important that this work addresses such deeper political questions head-on. As one colleague noted when she and I processed the meeting afterwards, maybe we should bypass calling this work “diversity” and instead go directly for “social justice and equity” instead. It’s not just the differences that matter. Yes, honoring and celebrating difference is good. But we also need to name and undo the institutional structures and systems that codify and replicate inequalities based on those differences. Such power injustice may not be intentional. That makes it no less real.

Take this very meeting, for a subtle example. We were encouraged by an intelligent, well-meaning white faculty member to use a Quaker-style approach to our conversation: we stay quiet until feeling moved to speak, then one person at a time stands to share. In that mode together, we’d find a collective wisdom rather than engage in a debate or a dialogue. Lord knows, I go all in with such ritual forms. Quakers have developed a powerful ‘technology’ for talking about what really matters and for discerning shared wisdom (though it should be noted that any Quaker Meeting would be a religious meeting designed to find Spirit’s leading). They also have long demonstrated a commitment to social justice concerns. In this case, the format worked to create what seemed like a valuable conversation. That said, it’s also still an exceedingly white form.

A Quaker Meeting for Business: admittedly, a white form. .....Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

A Quaker Meeting for Business: admittedly, a white form.
…..
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

An African-American church, in contrast, might employ a call-and-response format. In that setting, silence between speakers would indicate lack of resonance or even disagreement. The meeting would lack life rather than demonstrate respect. By choosing the approach we did—and without naming it as a white approach or explaining its benefits—we unwittingly offered a conversational advantage to those more likely to be familiar with it. A subtle advantage, perhaps, but again, it’s a real one. I wonder if some felt silenced rather than welcomed by the form.

The ideal would simultaneously promote two fundamental and paradoxical truths: we are each unique—a singular combination of identities and affinities—and we’re also interconnected, radically interwoven into one grand whole. Unity and diversity work can rise together like a double helix, always turning into and around each other.

The double helix swirls in dynamic relationship......Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

The double helix swirls in dynamic relationship.
…..
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Or perhaps they can form a Möbius strip, one actually leading directly into the other.

A Möbius strip crafted with a piece of paper and tape. If one side is Unity and other Diversity, you can walk both paths just by moving forward......Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

A Möbius strip crafted with a piece of paper and tape. If one side is Unity and other Diversity, you can walk both paths just by moving forward.
…..
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

In that way, we’d find and build an active, engaged, vital diversity that serves a larger totality. At the same time, we’d develop a unity that thrived on the gifts and perspectives of every individual.

How do we make all this happen then? What tangible steps can we take? I can think of at least five.

  1. As institutions and individuals, we can begin telling our truthful stories. The vulnerability of honesty is a real risk: if you know about my tender places, you can hurt me. I have to figure out how to take that risk, though: it’s a necessary step for building connection.
  2. We can assume positive intentions. The various smogs of oppression—racism, sexism, homophobia, and the rest—have poisoned and blinded us. But we aren’t born with hate in our hearts. Speaking to the positive core in others softens defenses and builds generosity.
  3. We can work to earn that assumption. Actions do more to engender trust than words do. Those of us who attend a diversity conference, bring a different perspective into the curriculum, or even sit at a new table make tangible our commitment to healing past hurts and building a diversity-welcoming unity. We embody our intention.
  4. We can take the risk of failing—and then be willing to forgive ourselves and others for those failures. Walls of injustice won’t fall under hesitant dismantling. Only bold authenticity will break the barriers down. Call each other out on the occasional hurts and offenses, yes—that’s part of how we learn—but do so in a spirit of generosity and resilience.
  5. We can shift our language. When we talk about diversity, we can offer a nod to unity. When we promote unity, we can remember our difference. Doing so prevents any reflexive defensiveness or dismissal that results from having one of the elements ignored or devalued.

Take these thoughts as you will, one man’s (one white, educated, heterosexual, middle-class man’s) beginning reflections on a profoundly complex and important topic. I’d be delighted to hear your thoughts in return.

[1] Though I graduated from a different high school, my middle school years at Wheeler proved formative enough that I still consider myself an alum.

Posted in Contemplation, Mindset, Miscellaneous | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Improvisation and Spirituality: A Personal and Collaborative Inquiry

Posted on February 9, 2013 by

My friend and colleague Cort Worthington and I are excited to announce an inaugural Improvisation and Spirituality workshop we’ll offer this summer at the Green Gulch Zen Center in Marin County, just north of San Francisco. We’ve already generated some great questions and exercises to get us rolling. We hope this will serve as the first of many such gatherings to explore this fertile ground. Come join us if you can!

Warmly,

Ted

Improvisation & Spirituality

A personal and collaborative inquiry

Green Gulch Zen Center, Sausalito, CA * Sun-Wed, July 7th-10th, 2013

Enrollment limited to approx. 14 participants

Green Gulch Tea GardenMany seasoned improvisors recognize the depth of meaning and insight available through this art form.  When we apply improv principles to our everyday lives, we find greater vitality, resilience, and joy.  We learn to pay careful attention, to embrace possibility, and to play well with others.  These positive outcomes are strikingly similar to those found on many spiritual paths.

This experiential workshop will explore the numerous synergies between improvisational theater and the spiritual life.  We will use improv games and scenework as tools for personal reflection.  We will enter contemplative practice as a vehicle for deeper improv. Together, we’ll ask big questions—and find intriguing answers.  Participants can expect significant space for self-inquiry as well as ample opportunity for productive groupwork.

Prerequisites

Participants should be well-versed in improv principles and willing to practice them “on stage” in front of others.  No particular religious or spiritual path is required, but those with an inquiring heart will gain the most from the workshop.

Location and Accommodations

Lindisfarne HouseThis retreat takes place at historic Green Gulch Zen Center just north of San Francisco.  The Center’s rolling hills, organic gardens, and meditative spaces will make an idyllic setting for our time together.  Muir Beach lies a short walk away.  With both private and communal space available, we will share three organic, primarily vegetarian meals each day. Guests will stay in simple, clean rooms, two to a room.  For more information about the setting, please visit the Center’s web site: http://www.sfzc.org/ggf/.

 

– EVALUATION QUOTES FROM FUTURE PARTICIPANTS –

  • “What a delicious opportunity to draw from the depth of these two wells!”
  • “The food, the place, the leaders, my fellow participants: everything came together to make one magical whole.”
  • “To my whole life, I now say ‘Yes, And!’  Thank you, thank you.”
  • “A perfect combo of me-time and we-time.  Just what I needed.”

 

About the Instructors

Ted photoSince completing his graduate work at Stanford (MBA) and Harvard (Masters of Theology), Ted DesMaisons has taught religious studies and philosophy at Northfield Mount Hermon in western Massachusetts, including the senior elective “Identity and Transformation: Models of Spiritual Adulthood.” He has studied improvisation with Patricia Ryan, Bay Area Theater Sports (BATS) and Loose Moose, and has trained extensively with the Center for Courage and Renewal. Combining humor with gravitas and intention with inspiration, Ted helps create safe spaces for exploring what really matters. He writes regularly about improv and contemplation on his TED WORDS blog (www.tedwordsblog.com).

Cort photoCort Worthington is a full-time lecturer in leadership at the University of California, Berkeley Haas School of Business.  His current research focuses on improvisation and human development.  Trained to improvise at BATS in San Francisco, Cort has spent the past 15 years exploring the connections between improvisation, leadership, and personal growth. Founder or co-founder of numerous businesses, his first experience with improvisation was leading elite crews fighting wilderness forest fires as a parachuting U.S. Forest Service Smokejumper.  Cort holds an MA in Communication from Stanford, and MBA degrees from Columbia and UC Berkeley.

Patrica Ryan for Improv and Spirituality workshop

Founder of the Stanford Improvisors (SIMPS) and author of the artfully sage Improv Wisdom: Don’t Prepare, Just Show Up, special guest instructor Patricia Ryan Madson has followed a life path that has led her to landscapes, art forms, and deeper inquiries of all sorts. She has mentored multiple generations of compassionate players, many of whom continue to spread the good news of improv in her familiar, generous style. She has graciously agreed to join us for an evening’s session to share some of her insights and to help us generate our own.

Cost

$750 per person. Includes all program fees, three nights lodging, and three meals per day. Full payment due upon acceptance. Payment refundable (minus $25 processing charge) if the workshop is full and you or we are able to find a replacement.  $50 discount for any referrals.

Application/Contact Us

To ensure an ideal balance and diversity in our circle, we ask anyone interested in registering for this retreat to respond to a few reflective questions first. To receive an application, or if you have any questions about the workshop, please contact either facilitator. We’d be delighted to talk with you!

Ted DesMaisons: teddyd@stanfordalumni.org

Cort Worthington: cort@stanfordalumni.org

If you would like to save or print a copy of this workshop information in PDF form, please click here:

 Improvisation and Spirituality Flyer

Posted in Contemplation, Improv, Miscellaneous | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Cruising Toward Community

Posted on January 26, 2013 by
The Norwegian Pearl: not a place you'd normally guess you could find me.

The Norwegian Pearl: not a place you’d normally guess you could find me.

I wouldn’t normally consider myself a cruise ship vacation kind of guy. Overabundant opulence with a dash of seasickness tossed in? A confined setting where entertainment options run from smoky casino to overpriced spa? Descending upon destination harbors with hordes of other pasty-faced travelers to be met by pushy vendors selling questionably authentic goo-gaws? Toss me overboard. Given all that, why did I leave the Norwegian Pearl this last week wishing I could squeeze a few more days in? Call it the Cayamo Community.

For starters, Cayamo combines a standard cruise itinerary with the big bonus of a full-fledged summer music festival. Headliners like Brandi Carlile, Lyle Lovett, Keb Mo’, and Richard Thompson join mid-level folks like Shawn Mullins, Joan Osborne and Edwin McCain on board. Rising jewels like Teddy Thompson, Liz Longley, and Delta Rae come along for the ride too. Six indoor and outdoor venues crackle with talent and passion throughout the day and into the early morning. With 40 bands and more than 90 musicians, every day gets packed with more great music than a mere mortal could possibly take in.[1] If you dig folk-rock or alternative country, you’ll dig this boat.

Pool Deck concerts on the Pearl.

Pool Deck concerts on the Pearl.

Great music alone won’t weave a sense of community, though. Cayamo relies on a number of other factors to generate that feeling:

Abundance. Yes, you’re stuck on a big boat with loads of other folks, but you’re also “stuck with” the ample sunshine and mid-winter warmth of the Caribbean. Vibrant Miami to the historic seaside promenades of San Juan, Puerto Rico and then on to the crystal-blue beaches of Antigua and Tortola: it could be worse. A concerned citizen could also rightly question the decadence of 24/7 buffet lines with foods from all over the world—and of paying handsomely for them. At the same time, that citizen could not deny that access to such deliciousness puts travelers in a more relaxed state of mind. It is a vacation, after all.

Freedom from responsibility. Life gets a lot easier when you don’t have to worry about cooking, cleaning, or housekeeping. From galley to bridge, the Norwegian Cruise Lines staff proved remarkably courteous, cheerful, and proficient. Everyone seemed sincerely interested in making the trip both comfortable and easy and they clearly understood the value of taking a break from life’s regular demands.

Isolation from isolating technologies. This may not hold true even two or three years from now, but, for the moment, the ship still offers a haven from the houndings of the digital world. Cell phone coverage and internet connection, while available, remain prohibitively expensive. TV selection stays thin. Without the distractions of texting, e-mail, and social networking, folks turn their attention to each other and to the musical wonders in front of them. They settle into the now.

Sixthman works behind the scenes so Cayamo crowds get to enjoy great music.

Sixthman works behind the scenes so Cayamo crowds get to enjoy great music.

Good cheer. The trip’s promoters, a merry and motley crew called Sixthman, do a good job creating a welcoming, playful atmosphere. They respond flexibly to good suggestions and they give generously to make sure that passengers have a great time. The Sixthman folks work hard, often into the wee hours, and they have as much fun as anyone else.

An invested crowd. Unlike most cruises or winter break junkets, Cayamo cruisers don’t take the trip just to laze around or booze it up. With a shared sense of purpose and joy, there’s little need for the idiocy and obnoxiousness of overt, intentional drunkenness.[2] Folks come for the music. That makes a strong sense of connection.

Collaboration. The musicians on Cayamo revel in the opportunity to play with other musicians. Everyone stays on the boat so they get time to dream up original arrangements and to rehearse them. And every night brings some new combination of artists. Shawn Mullins’ lead guitarist delivered an incandescent exchange with Taylor Goldsmith, the lead singer of Dawes. Goldsmith in turn showed up to help power a driving Delta Rae version of Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain.” Keb Mo’ sang a touching duet with Joan Osborne. Brandi Carlile raced from her closing set to sneak into the end of a multi-artist concert tribute to Levon Helm of The Band. The multiple permutations create a kind of magic—the audience never knows who’s going to use that extra microphone or step behind that added drum set but it knows someone will.

Keb Mo' teaming up with Joan Osborne for a memorable duet.

Keb Mo’ teaming up with Joan Osborne for a memorable duet.

Stewardship. The artists recognize they’ve got it good and want to pass their fortune along. On this trip, well-seasoned vets like Lyle Lovett and Buddy Miller graciously ceded stage time to lesser-known newcomers or long-time band members. Chart-toppers like Edwin McCain (he of “I’ll Be” [link to McCain song]) spoke of someone else having given them a shot and feeling a drive to return the favor. Brandi Carlile pulled an understandably wide-eyed 17-year old girl on stage in the middle of a concert to give her a brand new electric guitar. Such visible generosity inspires a similar sense of responsibility among audience and crew members alike. People want to take care of the trip’s preciousness.[3]

Brandi Carlile takes a supporting role to help the Hanseroth twins out.

Brandi Carlile takes a supporting role to help the Hanseroth twins out in their breakout show.

Serendipity. Again, because the whole trip happens with everyone tucked in so tightly, you never know who you’ll run into or what magic moment will appear out of nowhere. One late night, just after I had prepared myself for bed, I called down to the front desk to make last-minute arrangements for the next day. I got frustrated when they insisted that I had to come to the service desk to make my request in person, but reluctantly got myself appropriate and trudged my way down a few floors and back to the middle of the boat. On my return trip to our room, I heard a beautiful voice singing a Patty Griffin song to simple piano accompaniment and when I turned the corner saw Brandi Carlile performing for about a dozen slack-jawed folks. I joined them and got to enjoy a half-hour’s worth of acoustic sing-along requests. So much for my frustration. I heard similar stories from other nights when I had gone to bed early.

So Ian and I got to talking...

So Ian and I got to talking…

Mingling with the talent. Cayamo breaks down the standard consumer mindset of fandom and allows for a much more relational interaction. You run into artists on the elevators or in the buffet lines. You sit next to them on the beach or at another artist’s show in the main theater. And it’s all cool. As we stood in the waves waiting for a tender boat back to our day-trip shuttle, I chatted with Ian Hölljes, a lead singer of Delta Rae, about his experience of the band’s budding fame. Walking out from lunch on the last full day, I ran into the drummer and bassist from Dawes and got to share my admiration for their songwriting and musical originality. I shared a lovely conversation with Joanne Hanserroth, mother of Phil and Tim, the über-cool identical twins who back Brandi Carlile, before their outdoor showcase set. (Apparently, I bear a striking resemblance to the twins’ older brother, an impression they laughingly confirmed when my sister, Melissa, and I got a photo with them after the show.) Such connections dissolve the usual hierarchies of stardom. The literal truth becomes figurative as well: we were all on the same boat, all fans of great music.

The Hanseroth twins share the Cayamo joy.

The Hanseroth twins share the Cayamo joy.

Appreciation for the music. In the end, Cayamo comes back to the music. All those other factors—the abundance and withdrawal of vacation, the collaboration and stewardship of gifted artists, the investment of other cruisers and the serendipity of precious moments—lets the music reach even deeper. One mid-trip morning as we both got teary recalling Dawes’ poignant lyrics to “A Little Bit Of Everything”, my partner Melissa put it well:

Every day on this trip, I’m getting more and more of a sense how music is such a gift. It’s a gift for the musicians who write and play because they get to make sense of the complexities in their own lives in ways that simple words just can’t do. And it’s a gift for us that they bring us along for the ride, that we get to witness their vulnerability—and that they help us face our own.

Melissa and I shared that experience and I’m confident that most of the more than 2300 other passengers were feeling similarly. There’s a tenderness, a joy, and an intimacy that comes from creating that kind of open-hearted time together. Life gets fuller and more vibrant.

The fading light of the cruise's last show makes for a bittersweet beauty. Such a taste of community leaves me wanting more.

The fading light of the cruise’s last show (in this case, Devil Makes Three) creates a bittersweet beauty. Such a taste of community leaves me wanting more.

It’s true that a cruise ship wouldn’t usually make the top of my list for an ideal vacation. But Cayamo’s no ordinary cruise ship. Mix golden sunshine and Caribbean blue with all these other components and you get more than a vacation—you get a healthy community. It’s no wonder that people return to Cayamo year after year (my folks have gone on all six sailings!). It’s no wonder too that I’m drawn to similar settings for my work. Summer camp, off-site professional retreats, boarding school: each offers the chance for immersive growth experiences. When we put down our distractions and turn toward each other in common purpose—and do so kindly and generously—we cruise to greater creativity. We build a better moment and eventually a better world.

[1] Not surprisingly, this kind of cornucopia has the capacity to leave you feeling more exhausted than eager. Most Cayamo cruisers need a few days to learn how to calibrate drinking from the fire hose.

[2] This point came into sharper focus when we took a shore excursion boat trip to the island of Jost Van Dyke in Tortola. The smaller boat operators were of the booze-it-up variety and their eager entreaties got as much lift as a lead balloon. On our return home, one young staff member shouted out Why are you all so quiet? I will not tolerate soberness. This is what life’s all about: getting wasted!!! Maybe our average age of 50 years allowed us to see it more clearly, but, my dear, there is actually more to life than that…

[3] Edwin McCain demonstrated a special nobility in this regard. Not only did he bring younger musicians up to sing with him, but he also reached out to the NCL staff. Apparently, he’s super-big in the Phillipines, home to a large percentage of the crew. Rather than take his own well-deserved day off in Antigua, he stayed behind to perform a special show just for the crew—many of whom apparently trembled and shrieked at the delight of such close interaction.

Posted in Miscellaneous | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

A Curious Resolution

Posted on January 7, 2013 by
Curiosity: A great name for a Mars rover that sends back new information.

Curiosity: A great name for a Mars rover that sends back new information.

Historically, I’ve considered curiosity among the list of core virtues. I’m drawn to those who demonstrate the quality; I aim to cultivate it in myself. When we wonder—or wander—about the world with open, welcoming eyes, we see differently. Life gains a vitality, a playfulness, a sense of possibility. Curiosity leads us to learn, to grow, and to improve. All good, all good. Or, at least, so I had thought before this week.

A few days ago, I read a collection of New Year’s Resolution lists written by a small range of celebrities. Woody Guthrie’s 1942 list covered a bunch of bases, ranging from the mundanely hygienic (“Take bath” and “Wash teeth if any”) and the intellectually stimulating (“Read lots good books”) to the family-supportive (“Love Mama. Love Papa. Love Pete.”) and politically-charged (“Help win war—beat fascism,” and “Wake up and fight”). Marilyn Monroe’s 1959 list ached for a desire to lift herself out of self-limitation, ending with “try to enjoy myself when I can—I’ll be miserable enough as it is.” All proved fascinating, offering unusual glimpses inside.

Like Scooby-Doo, I was a bit confused. .....Image courtesy of Scooby Doo Facebook fan page.

Like Scooby-Doo here, I was a bit confused when I read Sontag’s resolution.
…..
Image courtesy of Scooby Doo Facebook fan page.

Of all the interesting snippets, however, one from author Susan Sontag’s 1972 list stood out in particular: I will try to confine my reading in the evening. (I read too much—as an escape from writing.) My head tipped in a Scooby-Doo confusion. Aroo?!? Read ress!?! Reading is one of the most powerful expressions of curiosity, a direct avenue into new worlds and opening minds. What the heck was she thinking?

I have always loved to read. I started at the age of three—right around the time Sontag was making her resolution actually—by going through the sports pages with my older brother and rarely looked back from devouring more. World Book encyclopedias. Time-Life compendia covering the Great Wars, American westward expansion, or the scientific wonders of the world’s oceans. The collection of Newsweeks and National Geographics shelved in the basement of my Mom’s office building, colorful documentaries that stretched back through years of wonder. I wanted to take it all in, to know everything.

Stack of Library Books on Piano

Stacks of books opened worlds of wonder.
….
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Such voraciousness served me well as a child and as a young man. I always enjoyed school, never seeing it as a burden but instead welcoming it as an invitation. I suspect it’s part of why I love teaching now. Especially at a private, independent school, our community thirsts for development. Learning defines our success. Curiosity drives our engines. The more I learn, the more I bring to the classroom. I can see it in my students’ eyes that my teaching comes alive.

Now that I’m trying to write more regularly, however, I’m also aware that, like Sontag, I’d do well to turn down—and even turn off—the incoming spigot from time to time. The pace of my posting here has dwindled over the last two months and that has frustrated me. I could lean on several excuses if I wanted to: I returned home after several months away and needed to catch up on unattended matters; the holiday season brought its usual whirlwind of shopping and family travels; and Melissa and I took in a three-legged foster dog—and have come to find that he unexpectedly has not been previously housetrained. Sure, these factors have contributed to my lag in production, but they’re not the main culprit. More directly, it’s the never-ending stream of seeking—a caffeinated curiosity looking for the next thrill—that serves as procrastination.

Wouldn't you have a hard time focusing with this face asking to go outside again?

Wouldn’t you have a hard time focusing with this face asking to go outside again?

Though I don’t often get the chance to just sit and read in a leisurely way any more, I do still read tons. As in my childhood, Newsweek, National Geographic, and sports magazines keep me up-to-date. Alumni magazines, updates from non-profits we support, missives from the many networks we’ve joined: every day brings more compelling material to my mailbox, both physical and electronic. Most powerfully, of course, I wander into the never-ending kaleidoscope of the internet. I just need to check the news or I just want to see the scores, I say, before getting sucked in for hours. Humorous lists. Celebrity hijinks. Consumer comparisons. Add in videos of sports highlights and adorable kittens and it ain’t pretty. In fact, it’s a wonder I can get off the computer at all. For sure, the curiosity virtue crosses into a distraction vice.

Even as it’s happening and the more responsible parts of me suggest getting back on target, a bit of self-righteous defensiveness raises up: It’s not a bad thing to learn about the world. How could that be wrong? Just five more minutes.” It’s those last four words that expose the ruse, however. Just five more minutes becomes another five minutes no top of that. The seeking function, truly a virtue in many settings, takes on an addictive quality that steamrolls over other priorities. Each little exploration—justifiable in isolation, perhaps—adds to the next and hours slip away. I’ve avoided the challenge of putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. When I feel frustrated for not having written more, I often turn back for more distraction. The cycle snowballs: the more exasperated I get, the harder it becomes to actually start.[1]

Even the path of curiosity can become a rut that leads nowhere. .....Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Even the path of curiosity can become a rut that leads nowhere.
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Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

I know others struggle with procrastination as well. For many, such stalling takes another form than reading or curious exploration. Some clean. Others sort. Still others exercise. Whatever the diversion, I’m not alone in turning a virtuous path into a rut. Perhaps it’s just that resolve is weak and temptation strong, but I sense something more at work. I think we resist the deeper calling because it scares us to get real and get big. We’re more powerful and we’re more vulnerable when we’re taking the risk of our real work—and we somehow manage to fear both sides of the same coin. Marianne Williamson’s prayer from A Return to Love often comes to mind when I get to such internal struggles. I’d do well to post it at home as I post it in my classroom:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.[2]

I recognize that mastering the discipline of writing will help bring my best to the world. And I also see that runaway reading and seeking gets in the way of such mastery. That said, I have no intention of shutting down my curiosity as whole. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.

WIthout focus, the flow of information can get a bit overwhelming.

Well-harnessed, the flow offers astounding power.

My work now, perhaps, lies in training it, harnessing it, and honing a focus that moves in alignment with larger, deeper goals. To a great extent, that’s been the work—and the joy—of this sabbatical so far, turning the lens of my seeking onto the ideas and topics that most interest me rather than on those that just happen to cross my doorstep or desktop. Each day of this year gives me another chance to choose and strengthen that focus. And every time I turn the spigot off, even just for a bit, I reaffirm my commitment to that something deeper.

Curiosity still shines brightly as a virtue in my world. Thanks to Susan Sontag’s list, I’m now more aware of the shadow it throws as well. I look forward to the added relief and depth of this new resolution.

[1] I recognize, too, the delicate challenge of writing a blog, in particular. In order to post any thoughts, I need to get on my computer. Even if I turn my wireless signal off while actually writing—no e-mail, no internet—I still have to connect before actually posting. That’s like asking an alcoholic courier to make a delivery in the backroom of a saloon. Oh, just pass right on through to drop it off. You’ll be fine.” Even if I make it safely in one direction, the return trip back out from WordPress can trip the cycle again. I’ve never done drugs or gotten into alcohol and I don’t eat sugar, but I’d say I still inherited my grandfather’s addictive brain chemistry.

[2] This quotation often gets misattributed to Nelson Mandela’s first inaugural address. Not only did he not write it, he didn’t even cite it during that speech. It does seem like it would fit though. The actual source is Marianne Williamson’s A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles in A Course in Miracles, Harper Collins, 1992. From Chapter 7, Section 3 (Pg. 190-191).

 

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A Positive-Minded Primer on Punishment and Reinforcement–with a Buddhist Twist (Part 2 of 2)

Posted on December 14, 2012 by

[This is the second half of a two-part post. Part 1 can be found here.]

Negative ReinforcementNegative Reinforcement (R-) makes a wanted behavior more likely by taking away or reducing something the learner does not enjoy. It “eliminates an aversive,” as they say in the field. In this sense, it’s a kind of relief from unpleasantness. Negative reinforcement would work well on me if I were in a super-loud bar, for example. You could get me to do a whole bunch of things I might struggle to do otherwise if you supported my behavior by turning the noise down, down, down. Another example: a horseman trying to get his animal to turn will apply pressure with the reins. When the horse turns toward the reins and the pressure stops, that’s negative reinforcement at work.[1]

When a horse turns in a desired direction and the pressure on the reins loosens, that's negative reinforcement. Of course, some horses keep going in circles no matter the feedback......Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

When a horse turns in a desired direction and the pressure on the reins loosens, that’s negative reinforcement. Of course, some horses keep going in circles no matter the feedback.
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Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

The mistake-prone softballer will experience negative reinforcement when she makes the play correctly and hears her coach stop nagging.[2] The kid who tends to stay out late might find chores reduced when he comes home on time. At the messy one’s first gesture towards cleaning the kitchen, the cleaner partner might quietly do the kindness of relieving some other burden: taking the dog out for a walk or offering a ride to work the next morning. In each case, the movement toward the desired behavior elicits a reduction or elimination of something unpleasant.

Positive ReinforcmentPositive Reinforcement (R+) accelerates or increases a behavior by adding something desirable. Raises, honor rolls, bonuses, and the like usually strive to serve as positive reinforcement. Though they may unwittingly undermine their own cause, many parents and teachers intend praise the same way.  In TAGteaching, the “click” that says Yes, that’s it! becomes a reinforcer. As with the three other forms of operant conditioning, the positive reinforcement most tailored to the specific learner will be most effective. Chocolate and candy will work wonders for some folks. They won’t do a thing for me—I don’t eat sugar.

In the case of our softball example, a coach might note a properly-made play as the team returns to the bench after a defensive inning. Probably the more powerful reinforcer will be to increase the athlete’s playing time. When the wayward teen comes home on time, maybe he finds a gift certificate on his pillow for his favorite pizza place. Or maybe he gets a sincere smile and warm welcome from his folks. The moment the messier partner does clean up—or even begins to do so—would be a good time to play a favorite song or walk through the kitchen wearing a preferred perfume or cologne. In many homes, a simple Thank you is enough.

A Positive Reinforcement Spectrum

The principles of operant conditioning suggest that behavior can be shaped using any of the four quadrants. That said, those of us in the positive reinforcement community—TAGteachers, clicker trainers, members of the Positive Coaching Alliance, and the like—train from the premise that positive reinforcement works best. It’s not a cure-all and it takes hard work: an effective teacher must get crystal sharp about which behaviors she wants to shape and which steps will best help her learner get there. When executed skillfully, however, positive reinforcement draws out the fastest, deepest, most durable and most joyful kinds of learning. Humans and non-humans alike: they keep coming back for more. The progress becomes a reinforcer all its own.

If we take the four quadrants from the operant conditioning 2 x 2 matrix and lay them out from least desirable to most desirable, we generate the following spectrum:

Positive Reinforcment Spectrum for Blog jpg

A spectrum of operant conditioning options–pointing towards positive reinforcement.

As I make choices about working to shape behavior in my classroom and at home—or about shaping my own progress—I try to keep this spectrum in mind. When I instinctively generate an internal response that seems or feels to me like punishment, I challenge myself by asking How can I at least move my reactions toward positive reinforcement? Maybe I’ll only slide one box over in the heat of a moment, but it makes a difference. In other moments, I realize I can do my best to stay neutral and buy time to make a wiser choice. Over time, my instincts have followed my intention. More and more often, my mind generates ways to reinforce the behavior I want rather than railing against what I don’t. I find my students have become more joyful as a result. I know I have.

The Buddhist Twist

Among his many sage lessons, the Buddha taught that “Right Intention” consisted of two elements, seeking the abiding peace of enlightenment and ending suffering for all beings. In other words, build well-being and reduce affliction. For those still struggling to grasp the four quadrants of operant conditioning, we can overlay the Buddha’s words and gain even more clarity. Does the box deal with well-being or suffering? Are we talking about adding or reducing?

Teasing out the answers generates a new Buddha-influenced operant conditioning 2 x 2 matrix that looks like this:

Positive Reinforcement Matrix Buddhist style for blog jpg

When we pull these four boxes into a second spectrum, one can see that the Buddha would agree that we do best to lean toward the right pole. Reinforcement achieves the twin goals of Right Intention. Punishment goes against them.

Positive Reinforcement Spectrum Buddhist style for blog jpg

Which operant conditioning methods would the Buddha use?

I don’t mean to sound flippant or reductive about one of the world’s great religious traditions. The Buddha didn’t clicker train his disciples. Still, I find the language of suffering and well-being helps me ‘get’ the four options of operant conditioning in a much clearer way. I’ll bring more Buddhist principles into the blog when I write my next posts about a similar—but also surprisingly different—feedback matrix and spectrum. More to come…

[1] Note the application of a mild aversive here. In that moment, one could argue that the horse receives some ‘positive punishment’—the pull on the reins—for continuing to trot straight forward. The negative reinforcement comes when the pressure lets up. What’s key is that the let-up happens when the horse makes a choice. That will be a predictable consequence for the behavior of turning into the pull. In contrast, the ‘punishment’ of the pressure to turn doesn’t get applied in any consistent or recognizable pattern.

[2] It kills me how many coaches will continue their nagging even after the athlete has succeeded. As if the original, unhelpful hector weren’t bad enough, now we add in something like “Finally! Now why couldn’t you have done that before?!?” Let it go, Coach. Let it go.

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A Positive-Minded Primer on Punishment and Reinforcement–with a Buddhist Twist (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on December 14, 2012 by

Please oh pleasePeople often misunderstand positive reinforcement because those of us who espouse and employ the technique can get sloppy with our definitions. As we’ve discussed before, for example, the “positive” in positive reinforcement need not mean ‘happy,’ ‘kind,’ or ‘joyful.’ It simply means “added in,” as in the reinforcer added in to make a behavior more likely to occur in the future. Sometimes, we get loose with positive reinforcement talk because we want to avoid sounding too technical or jargony—as some would say I just did in the previous sentence. If we want the world to operate on positive reinforcement principles, wouldn’t it be helpful to have a clear, concise, layman’s-language way to explain what the heck we’re talking about? I say yes, and that’s why I put together a few visual aids—a matrix, a spectrum, and a Buddhist-flavored frame—to help keep things clear. Feel free to use for yourself and share with others if you think these tools might help at all.

The Operant Conditioning Matrix

Positive reinforcement springs from the study of operant conditioning. Based on the often polarizing work of Harvard professor B.F. Skinner, the field of behavioral psychology suggests we operate on our environments—in other words, we act and interact—and that our choices then have consequences—both for ourselves and for others. Any results that select, strengthen, or maintain the original behavior serve as reinforcers. Any outcomes that cause us to avoid, weaken, or eliminate that specific behavior serve as punishers. Neutral consequences that have no effect on the likelihood of the original behavior appearing again—not reinforcers. Operant conditioning, then, uses a variety of stimuli—shaping, schedules, and reinforcements—to encourage or discourage certain behaviors.

Often, you’ll see the options for operant conditioning explained with a 2 x 2 matrix similar to the one pictured below. The top ‘shelf’ shows the two kinds of reinforcement that increase the frequency of a desired behavior, the bottom ‘shelf’ names the two types of punishment that decrease the frequency of an undesired behavior. The left column includes the two “positive” conditioners—those where the consequence meant something added in to the learner’s environment—while the column on the right contains the two “negative” conditioners—those where the consequence took something away from the learner’s environment. Feel free to take a moment to really “get” this. I still find staring at the four blocks helpful.

Positive Reinforcement Matrix for blog jpg

The success of any of these conditioning techniques relies directly on the skillfulness of the trainer employing them. The feedback has to be timed well: reinforcement happens best exactly as the behavior is happening. The consequence needs clarity, not getting linked with other conflicting or conflating messages. Frequency matters as well—too often can become meaningless, too rare can create apathy or confusion. In all cases, the consequence must have relevance for the learner. If he or she doesn’t care, the reinforcement or the punishment won’t hold.

Let’s run through each of the four quadrants with examples. I’ll mention responses a ‘trainer’ (i.e., a coach, parent, or significant other) could use in three different troublesome situations: an athlete making a repeated error in practice, like an errant softball throw; a teenager staying out past curfew; and a partner continuing to leave a kitchen messy.[1] None of my examples will be perfect, and I imagine you’ll have responses of your own spring to mind. Noting your own suggestions will help the ideas grab hold.

Positive PunishmentPositive Punishment (P+) adds something unpleasant to the learner’s environment. Most of us have an intuitive sense what we mean by the word “punishment.” Harsh words or a slap to the face would qualify, but the pain need not be so obvious. A disapproving look a roll of the eyes, or even the threat of future punishment can serve the same function: they decrease the likelihood of an undesired behavior. Major or minor, they inflict some kind of pain.

"I'll get you, my pretty...and your little dog too!!!".....The threat of future punishment can act as a punishment of its own. In this case, the Wicked Witch of the West wants to *decrease* the likelihood that Dorothy will continue her trouble-making incursions. I'm not sure the witch worked so closely with Skinner, though.

“I’ll get you, my pretty…and your little dog too!!!”
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The threat of future punishment can act as a punishment of its own. In this case, the Wicked Witch of the West wants to *decrease* the likelihood that Dorothy will continue her trouble-making incursions. I’m not so sure the witch worked closely with Skinner, however.

In the case of the softball player making the errant throw, the coach might throw her clipboard to the ground in disgust or add extra wind sprints—both would qualify as positive punishment though the second would likely have little effect for its significant time lag. Screaming at the kid would as well. For the teenager out too late carousing, a parent could add extra chores or otherwise make life miserable. A partner finding dirty dishes in the sink could throw the dishes against the wall, put them on the offending partner’s desk, curse and yell, and so on.

Negative PunishmentNegative Punishment (P-) takes away or reduces something the learner enjoys or wants. It’s a kind of penalty, as in football where an offending team has to give up yardage or in hockey where a player who gets his stick too high in the air has to sit off-ice for a few minutes. Some imagine that negative punishment hurts less than positive, but it can pack just as much of a wallop. Yes, physical abuse, a positive punishment, is awful. But an active withdrawal of love or an abandonment, both negative punishments, can be cruel as well. Negative punishment doesn’t have to be harsh, but it can be.

Applying this method to our ongoing examples, a coach might pull her softball player making the error from the lineup, either right away or for the next.[2] The teenager continually coming home late might get grounded (taking away freedom of movement), lose cell phone privileges (reducing connection with friends), or have to box up the video game (loss of entertainment). The cleaner housemate might stop smiling around the ‘offender’ as long as the kitchen stays dirty or perhaps might cease cooking dinner for the other.

Note that a consequence can have elements of both positive and negative punishment, in this ‘adding in’ and ‘taking away’ sense. A speeding ticket adds points to an offender’s driving record and takes away money from his bank account. A prison sentence takes  away freedom and access to loved ones (negative punishment) and adds unpleasant living conditions and a social stigma (positive punishment). In such cases, the two types operate in tandem.

A prison sentence includes elements of both positive and negative punishment......Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

A prison sentence includes elements of both positive and negative punishment.
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Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Note also that much of our society turns to punishment, both positive and negative, almost as a default. Partly it’s because we’ve been told that it works—even where it doesn’t—and we experienced it as kids (so it must work, right?). Maybe just as much, it’s because it seems to satisfy the trainer on some emotional level. Often, we think of and enact punishment as retribution, like it’s an agent of moral righteousness. The miscreant got what they deserved, we think. Now they’ll know. Of course, none of that motivation or emotional involvement as a trainer measures whether the punishment gets the learner any closer to the behavior we do want.

[Part 2 of this post can be found here.]

[1] One could ask whether these situations actually qualify as ‘problems’ or if they’re merely inconveniences for an outsider wanting to change someone else. That’s a fair question. When applying these techniques, it most certainly makes sense to check if we’re trying to encourage a behavior because it gives us a feeling of control and makes our lives more convenient or because it’s truly in the learner’s best interest—from their point of view. Our choices will often contain both motivations, of course, but it’s best to keep them distinct and to at least admit our own less-than-savory reasons for doing what we do. Hopefully, that keeps our eye on the ball of what matters most: the learner’s development.

[2] This is one of toughest dilemmas I face as a coach, particularly in softball, where we get limited flexibility with substitutions. If a player continues to make mistakes defensively, I may need to get her out of the game for the team’s sake, but I don’t want it to come across as a punishment. This is where all the relational and growth mindset ground work we do before such charged moments comes into play.

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4 Reasons We Avoid Our Inner Knowing–and 7 Things We Can Do About It

Posted on December 12, 2012 by

In you are natural powers. You already possess everything necessary to become great.

                                                                                    –Chief Crow

"Homeward Bound" by E. Martin Hennings.....Courtesy of the Smithsonian American Museum of Art

“Homeward Bound” by E. Martin Hennings
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Courtesy of the Smithsonian American Museum of Art

The above quotation hangs over the sink in our kitchen, a quiet touchstone for a truth so easily forgotten. It’s a message I want to pass along to every young person (and adult) I work with. It’s also a reminder I often need myself.

So much of what we do—at the school where I work and in our culture at large—leads us away from the wisdom we carry within. We tell our kids and each other that we have to learn more before anyone will take us seriously. Experts have the answers. We think others and outside events control the way we feel.  We work to tap meaning from the dried-out shells of a culture that has been co-opted by corporations. Rarely do we notice—yet alone resist—such notions. We buy the superficial slop we’re being sold and turn right around and sell it to others. We fall for the lies. We move even further from our inner guidance.

When I noticed Chief Crow’s words again this week, a few questions called out:

  • Why don’t we turn to our inner wisdom more often?
  • If we were to make an active connection more often, what might our lives look like?
  • Assuming that it would be a good thing, how can we transition from Point A—from the surface-oriented society we are now—to Point B, the deeper, inner-guided community we want to be?

I’ll take them on one at time….

Why don’t we turn to our inner wisdom more often?

1. So many forces lead us away from looking inside, from making space for internal guidance. For one, we’re unexperienced and uneasy with listening for it. When things get too quiet—or to make sure they don’t—our society serves up stimulation around every corner. The extroverts among us think the introverts shy, hesitant, or otherwise odd. Taking time alone seems anti-social. We’re also told that our inner leanings aren’t trustworthy. Intuition floats to us on a woo-woo cloud, they say. We’d do better to follow the sound surgical logic that comes from external reasoning. In addition, most of us lack role models to show us how to turn inward. When friends, colleagues, and everyone around us seems to live their lives on the surface, how can we know what’s possible? Maybe we get an inkling or feel a longing—an impulse flares—but we have no idea how to follow it up. In that vacuum, the flicker fades.

2. Most of us also spend our time in the overlapping trances of consumption, technology, and obligation. We try to stay conscious but get pulled into the vortex of celebrity gossip, sports results, and media-made controversy. We spin ever faster to keep up with the latest news, the trending Twitter feeds, and the crazy cats and epic fails of YouTube. Our work schedules compound with our “entertainment” demands and available time shrinks to nothing. Those with children struggle to even remember what a free moment feels like. We intend to trim the distractions away, but we rarely do.

Oooh, shiny things! Must….have….now!
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Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

To some extent, such addiction has developed by design. Advertisers leverage our genetic history and neuroscientific coding to draw our attention outward. We turn to shiny things almost automatically—is that a threat on the landscape? is this a potential partner? what beauty!—and reinforce the short-term rush of sugar, shopping, and caffeine. We long for real intimacy but get seduced by the siren song of sexual titillation. If only we could be slimmer, stronger, more striking. If only, we lament, and the outward pull continues.

3. Even those of us with the intention of turning inward often lack the community to support doing so. We talk with colleagues about the affairs of the day rather than finding friends who follow the tracks of our hearts. Our conversations become snippier and snarkier, more focused on the clever quip than the patient insight. We rarely notice how our friendships drift toward correction, skepticism, and advice-giving—none of which helps welcome the hesitant soul out of its hidden thicket.

4. More than anything, I contend that we avoid our inner landscape because we’re afraid of what we’ll find. If I stop to breathe and to notice what’s really going on inside, I may see that, even with a generous circle of friends and a lovely life partner, I still feel lonely. I may notice deep sadness for a past relationship or for my own lost potential. Maybe I fear for the future of the planet in the face of ecological and political threats. Or maybe I’m angry with myself for having denied my truest desires or with the world for continuing violence and injustice. An honest look below the surface can bring unsavory qualities or tendencies to light—maybe I’m not the man I hoped I was. Maybe I’m an impostor. And while new insights from turning the searchlight inward can prove helpful, they can also make demands of their own. The genie won’t go back in the bottle. He’ll make us take responsibility for our wishes.

If we were to make an active connection with our inner world more often, what might our daily lives look like?

To start, we would have more open space in our schedules. A relationship with the inner world needs space for wandering and wondering. That’s true in a literal sense, physically getting ourselves outside to move about, and it’s true in a metaphorical sense as well. We need free time. We need enough quiet to hear our intuitive guidance.

In addition, we would nurture and support paths that bring inner wisdom out into the world. We’d teach kids (and adults) the many paths of contemplation, our classes would include the subjective perspective that asks “What stirs in me in response to this subject matter?,” and we’d reinforce the value of silence. We’d encourage creative expression in any format—painting, drawing, ceramics, dance, music, theater—that calls forward native intelligence. Coaches for sports and other athletic endeavors would offer instruction in mental alignment and conscious breathwork, much as happens in the multiple branches of yoga.

One can find many paths inward on the tree of contemplative practices.

One can find many paths inward on the tree of contemplative practices.
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Image courtesy of the Center for Contemplative Mind in Society.

We would set healthy boundaries with (and sometimes against) the many forces that pull us away from that inner groundedness. How many advertisements do we consume? How much time do we interact with screens? When and where will we answer our cell phones or respond to text messages? The ideal need not require cold turkey withdrawal, but it most certainly demands conscious choice-making rather than a hazy drift into addictive entertainment or outer-world stimulation. We need to be in conversation with these demons, perhaps inviting them for a cup of tea–but without letting them take over the house.

We would seek and build genuine circles of community. Like the Circles of Trust workshops offered by the Center for Courage and Renewal, we’d seek ‘communities of solitude’ where each member recognizes the inherent wisdom of the other members. Rather than trying to fix or advise anyone else, we’d work to invite deeper self-reflection. Honest and open questions—the kinds we actually don’t know the answer to—would serve a spirit of inquiry rather than drifting toward debate or dialogue. Your soul knows what you need more than I could ever guess.

Acknowledging clouds of feeling allows the blue sky to re-emerge......Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Acknowledging clouds of feeling allows the blue sky to re-emerge.
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Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

We would acknowledge and allow the full range of our feelings. Ignoring, denying, or stuffing emotional responses doesn’t make them go away. On the contrary, it leaves them to fester and poison the rest of our lives.  If we allow ourselves to honestly feel the isolation, the fear, and the self-doubt—and even better if we share it with other open-minded souls—we begin to build connection, generate courage, and stir new confidence. We see that the walls we’d built to fend off our fears and frustrations had been sealing off our joys as well. Grey clouds clear to blue skies. Our lethargy flushes away and new energies start to surge through us.

Maybe most importantly, we adults would practice what we preach, making sure to pursue these paths ourselves—and to let others know about our experiences. We would need to challenge our chock-full schedules, slow the pace of our consumptive ambitions, and enter the cave of our own feeling-worlds. It’s far easier to talk about the need to go inward than it is to actually go inward.[1] Get to the yoga mat. Sit for meditation. Write in the journal. Breathe. And then trust that we have everything we need. Those around us will notice our congruence. Those receiving from us will appreciate our consistency.

Assuming that it would be a good thing, how can we transition from Point A—from the surface-oriented society we are now—to Point B, the deeper, inner-guided community we want to be?

1. Note the issue. The first step in addressing any problem is to admit that there is a problem. So many of us feel this separation from our inner lives without even consciously registering it. As author and facilitator Parker Palmer says, we long for undivided lives. Trouble is, we usually don’t recognize our ‘tragic gap,’ the distance between what we do and who we truly are. Without the diagnosis, we won’t ever find the remedy.

2. Name the desire for something different. Once we’ve found the root of our suffering, we can start to articulate what we’d want in its place. This post outlines some of what I’d love to build into and around my life. I imagine you’d want your own way of connecting with your inner world. When we declare our intentions clearly, the universe conspires (“breathes-with”) on our behalf. Opportunities arise. Unanticipated solutions emerge.

3. Ask great questions. Honest inquiry has great power. We need not know every answer for how to proceed from Point A to Point B. Honest, skillful questions have a magnetic power of their own. They draw allies towards us and they loosen the soil for new growth. They encourage curiosity and humility, two essential qualities for effective change-making. How do we build a relationship with our inner worlds? I don’t know for sure, but I know that I’ll enjoy the exploration.

4. Pay attention. Once we’ve seeded our fields with great questions, we need to listen and watch carefully for the responses that come back our way. This may mean carving out quiet time or temporarily shutting off the spigot of information flowing into our lives. Or it may simply mean waking up amidst the hubbub we find ourselves in. Either way, we tune our awareness in preparation for the answers coming in.

One step at a time can lead to beautiful places.
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Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

5. Take little steps. We can admit and accept that change may not happen overnight. We likely won’t shake the sleep off our eyes to learn that we’re suddenly undivided no more. Instead, we can find ways—little ways, incremental ways—to support moving in this direction. We can celebrate our own choices that reestablish connection with our inner lives. And we can honor those who make such choices around us. You remembered to close your eyes and to check just how hungry you actually were before plowing into the lunch buffet? Good work. I took five minutes of silence before leaping into my day? Nicely done. Each small step adds more to the great journey.

6. Seek the new skills we need. Again, most of us haven’t had practice for turning inward. We haven’t seen role models. There’s no shame in admitting that we’ll have to learn. Try a mindfulness meditation class. Head to a yoga studio. Take a Deep Listening workshop. Train with a positive reinforcement instructor. Jump into an improvisational theater group. Stretch your body and your mind in ways that honor your own wisdom and forge your self-integrity.

7. Find allies. The Buddha recommended that, before ever stepping onto the Eight-Fold Path toward ending suffering, we should establish Right Association—hanging with the proper posse. The kind of work we’re proposing here invites big change in established systems that actively resist change. As one friend recently noted, “The system is most interested in seeing the system continue.” Who can support our vision? Who sees past our blind spots? Who can make us laugh? Who has the emotional depth, maturity, and curiosity to hold the weight and wonder of what we find when we turn inward? These are the friends we need. These are the allies we seek.

[1] Trust me, I know. This particular blog post has, ironically, taken more time to write than any other I’ve taken on. The persuasive pull of my outer-world dealings—some productive and some not so productive—has kept me from getting back here. One step at a time. Back on track.

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Kohn of Uncertainty: Raising Questions About How to Raise Kids (or Why Positive Reinforcement Might Not Be All It’s Cracked Up to Be)

Posted on November 28, 2012 by

Alfie Kohn’s provocative challenge to positive reinforcement.

 I’ve just started reading Alfie Kohn’s Unconditional Parenting: Moving from Rewards and Punishments to Love and Reason and I can already tell it will stir my pot. Kohn has no love for positive reinforcement. Quite the opposite, he considers it both dangerous and destructive. Given my investment in the topic and my eagerness to examine all sides of the approach, I know the book will make an important read. Good insights and new questions have already bubbled to the surface.

Alfie Kohn has challenged traditional techniques—and even many alternative ones—in the field of education for years. Two of his earlier books, No Contest: The Case Against Competition and Punished by Rewards: The Trouble with Gold Stars, Incentive Plans, A’s, Praise, and Other Bribes, first articulated his contrarian stance and earned him predictably polarizing reviews. Some see his work as revolutionary. Others think he’s off the deep end.[1] I get the sense that those in the latter camp have heavy investment in the models he critiques. That inkling of mine doesn’t automatically make him right, but it does lead me to question my own knee-jerk resistance to his take-down of positive reinforcement.  

In the first few chapters, he’s already raised valuable points. Most often, Kohn argues, positive reinforcement works to control behavior not in the direction of a child’s growth or natural unfolding but instead in the interest of compliance, convenience, or adult preference.[2] We use our techniques to develop docility or reward well-behavedness rather than to cultivate curiosity, caring, or creativity. Maybe this critique should be aimed more at curriculum and assessment design—What skills and behaviors do we strive to develop? How do we best measure those? Should we focus on attitudes and mindsets instead?—but it’s still a valid concern for positive reinforcement as well.

Kohn also notes how, by design, positive reinforcement focuses almost exclusively on behavior, leaving out information about a learner’s emotion or intention. Maybe I can elicit a particular action I’m looking for, but if the learner chooses that action to please me or to get a reward rather than choosing it for the joy of its own doing, have I really succeeded? What if she can demonstrate the behavior but does so with hostility or emotional numbness? Maybe my learner struggled because of troubles elsewhere in her life and so was acting out in unpleasant ways. Now she’s learned that she’ll get my approval—earn her reward—only when she puts those feelings away. She may have succeeded with the specific task, but she has also added significant content to what Robert Bly calls “the long bag we drag behind us,” those emotions and ways of being we excise from self-expression to avoid the shame they bring.

Educational consultant Alfie Kohn makes some great points.
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Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Kohn’s main argument is that parents should offer children unconditional love, celebrating that they are rather than what they do. Positive reinforcement, he asserts, automatically teaches a child that love comes with conditions. Succeed at the task I’ve put in front of you and you get my delight and approval. Do the behavior I want, we celebrate. Sure, kids will take praise over punishment or over nothing at all. What they really want and need, though, is to be seen and loved without having to earn that approval.

Again, these are all fair challenges that deserve—and will receive—further consideration during my sabbatical. For sure, I don’t want to buy in to or promote a technique that actually does more harm than good. I expect I’ll include much of those musings in this space as I go. I will be curious to hear Kohn flesh out his arguments further and I’ll be especially keen to hear his suggestions for alternative approaches. In the meantime, I’ve got questions of my own for him.

Kohn says, for example, that extrinsic rewards necessarily diminish intrinsic motivation. If we work for a reward, that undermines the joy we receive from the action itself. In some cases, though, I’ve experienced the opposite. My partner Melissa and I have different standards for cleanliness in our home. I wouldn’t call myself a slob, but neither would I qualify as a neatnik. She has patiently and consistently rewarded me for efforts I make to help meet a higher standard. She never carps or chirps acerbically. She offers a simple “thank you” or a hug and leaves it at that. Even though I know exactly what she’s doing, it’s had an effect over time. I would never have found an intrinsic motivation to clean more often or more thoroughly. That desire simply wasn’t in me. But I have now developed a positive association with doing so. I dare say I’m even coming to enjoy it on my own. When I spent these past two months in California on my own, I kept my space much cleaner than I ever had before even though I was living by myself. Rather than weakening intrinsic motivation, the reinforcement has created it.

Yoga demands balance…AND creates it, whatever the original motivation.
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Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Sometimes, too, the motivation behind the behavior actually doesn’t matter. What does matter is doing the behavior. As Stanford psychologist Amy Cuddy describes, simply taking certain physical positions can create a chemical cascade in our brains that creates a new mood, a new confidence, a more focused creativity. Suddenly, clouds lift and joy moves in. The same can hold true in the practice of yoga. Maybe a novice comes to yoga class because he wants to get toned and trim. He has no spiritual aim in mind; he’s seeking no Self-revelation. He only wants to look good so he’ll have a shot with the hotties in spandex.[3] Even without any noble intention, though, the practice will change his insides. Standing and sitting in dynamic, balanced poses; aligning breath with movement; settling and calming his mind: every class will lead him closer to his spiritual center. Finding his Self more fully might eventually lead him back to class for deeper reasons.

I’ve seen positive reinforcement help build intrinsic motivation on the softball field and in the classroom as well. Maybe the success comes at cross-currents to the method’s downsides, but it still comes. When I encourage my softball girls to stay focused in their hitting drills—even if they’re resistant or they wouldn’t choose that work on that day—they start to develop their skill. Once they have the skill in place and achieve success during a game, they start to want more. They attack the tee or tossed balls with greater focus and ferocity without my having to do a thing. The reps through resistance built their ability. The increased sense of agency fueled their intrinsic motivation. In class, students learn how to annotate their books, write more coherent essays, or ask better questions of their peers. The more they find the joy of mastery, the more they come to class eager to learn.

I don’t pretend to know all there is to know about positive reinforcement. Far from it. As a result, I will take Alfie Kohn’s critique, however blistering, into honest consideration. At the same time, I won’t reflexively shrink in submission to the challenge. I’ve got questions for his questions. I know—I can feel—there’s some truth here, and it’s good truth. I’m confident I’ll keep finding it.

[1] For the record, he was a great inspiration when I was in college and grad school.

[2] Kohn usually talks about carrot-and-stick motivations so he’d include punishment and reward alike. He also makes special mention of his concerns about positive reinforcement specifically, partly to address folks like myself who eschew punishment but still look to shape through affirmation and acknowledgment.

[3] When we study Hinduism in World Religions, I joke with my students that this branch of yoga stems from the Assaghidardha tradition. As in, you do this yoga, your ass’ll get harder.

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The Death Show: A Perspective-Giving Production

Posted on November 27, 2012 by

Artwork for The Death Show (A Recital), Walking the Dog Theater
Image by Nikita Lev Emery

This past weekend, my partner Melissa and I attended The Death Show (A Recital), an intriguing community theater production in Hudson, New York. Simultaneously provocative, poignant, peace-giving, harrowing, and hilarious, the evening has left me thinking about the impact of death in my life—and how to bring its air-clearing quality into my classroom more purposefully.

The Death Show was conceived and crafted by Melania Levinsky and other members of the Walking the Dog Theater company. Each of the five players contributed mightily to the show’s success, reciting a seamless weave of poems, songs, and monologues. Some of the pieces had been tightly rehearsed (like the litany of diseases sung to the tune of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy); others rode improvisational waves in tune with our night’s specific audience (as when “Brother Death” walked silently through the cast and audience, tapping people on the shoulder to indicate that now was their time).

Most memorably, each cast member took the spotlight for a few moments to share individual reflections on the subject. All five of these stories proved deeply personal yet also universal, artfully articulating questions that rarely find the light of day. Each monologue was followed by an improvised “death” based on suggestions given by the audience before the house had opened— we saw “a clown dying of happiness during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade” and “death by mascara while driving down the Taconic Parkway,” for example—and a ritual-like delivery of epitaphs for that particular player. As a whole, the show felt less like a play and more like an open-hearted conversation about the many roles of Death: tormentor, rib-tickler, priority-clarifier, ambassador to the other side, familiar companion.

After the performance, we went out with our dear friend Benedicta—one of the players—and a few other audience members for a drink. Not surprisingly, the show continued to cast its spell, leading us to share stories of our own experiences and perspectives on death. I realized that, for the most part, I’ve escaped any close contact with the Reaper’s blade. Yes, all of my grandparents have passed on but I wouldn’t say that I knew any of them particularly well. A classmate in high school died in a sledding accident, but I was just getting to know her. One of my colleagues at work took his own life this summer—and I have missed his presence—but our connection had always been more peripheral than central. A handful of my closest friends have gotten cancer or suffered heart attacks but all have survived the scare. I have never lost a parent, sibling, partner, or dearest pal. In most senses, that feels lucky. In the wake of last night’s performance, I wonder if my own living lacks a depth for lack of death.

Had I participated in the show as a cast member, I probably would have told the story of losing my beloved Ocicat, Madsen, five years ago. When I first picked her up ten years earlier, I had taken a ferry from the San Juan Islands of Washington state over to Victoria, British Columbia to get her—hop off the boat, get the cat, hop back on the boat—and we had been best buddies since. When I went away for a weekend and accidentally left a ground level window open, however, Maddie got out and never came back home.

I still feel Maddie’s loss. She was a fine feline friend.

For weeks, I struggled with whether to make every effort I could to find her or to face the likelihood that she was gone and I should let go. Continue reading →

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