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Lessons in leadership from the conductor’s podium

Developing as a leader, ,



This article is one of two I offered this week for publication on Discuss HR.  Take a look to see which one got posted!
Recently, I reached a point when I could look back on half a lifetime as an active member of the London Symphony Chorus.  As such, I have enjoyed the extraordinary privilege of performing alongside many leading professionals whilst still being an amateur, enjoying my love of music whilst pursuing my career.  Today I take time to bring both interests together in order to ask:  what have I learnt about leadership as a member of the London Symphony Chorus?
In case you read Janice Caplan’s article last week, I preface this article by highlighting differences between the concert hall maestro and line managers in more traditional workplaces.  On a day-to-day basis, for example, it is our “voice reps” who ensure that we have enough singers for each concert and who will soon notice if attendance is poor.  Our music director, on the other hand, is attentive to the quality of our singing.  The re-audition is our only one-to-one though, as well as re-auditioning chorus members every three years, a good music director will attend to an individual’s contribution on an ongoing basis.
Conductors have a variety of relationships with us.  Some of them will work with us on a regular basis over a number of years whilst others will be rare partners in making music.  Some have inspired us to new heights in our music making whilst others have left such a poor impression that the queue to sing under their baton is perilously short.
Amongst the leadership qualities I notice conductors often show a life-time commitment to music-making.  Leonard Benstein, for example, died just weeks after we recorded his own work, Candide, in December 1989.  Sir Colin Davis, now in his 80s, conducted my parents many years before I first sang under his baton.
Some conductors are driven by a vision and, like musical entrepreneurs, spend many years in pursuit of their vision.  Whilst hindsight makes a career look easy, the truth is it takes hard graft, persistence and a tolerance of uncertainty to succeed.  Davis’ Wikipedia entrance references the “freelance wilderness” he himself described, beginning in 1949.  It’s only with hindsight that he’s become known as a great champion of the now much-loved music of Berlioz.  In a similar way, Richard Hickox worked hard to develop his reputation as a champion of British music, slowly earning the license to conduct and record works that were barely known and rarely performed.  The persistence of both men has afforded opportunities to me to sing an extraordinary breadth of music.
At the level at which we sing, conductors relentlessly pursue high standards as well as interpreting the music.  In his pursuit of musical perfection Hickox never finished a rehearsal early, for example, and Davis is consistent in urging us to sing slightly ahead of the beat and in encouraging us not to “chew” our vowels.  In rehearsal, such conductors show extraordinary attention to detail.  Still, the moment comes when it’s time to let go of refining the details and engage with the spirit of a piece.  In my early years with the Chorus, when Hickox was our music director, I appreciated his pep talk ahead of a concert, which helped me to step onto the platform with a strong sense of connection with the music.
The best conductors are themselves fine musicians and in this sense they lead by example.  If they’re not, it soon shows:  when one conductor repeatedly berated the chorus in rehearsal we were quick to notice that the error was his and slow to forgive him for his behaviour towards us.  The relationship between a conductor and musicians can be tricky and this is often a function of his (or her) world view and personal confidence.  Solti famously never worked with amateur musicians, for example, so that when we were scheduled to sing with him in 1997 we sang alongside professional singers.  In rehearsal his assistant conductor repeatedly asked to hear the ‘professionals’ and then the ‘amateurs’.  This was not a move which earned our respect even though we were thrilled to have the opportunity to sing with him (an opportunity thwarted by his death just days before the concert).
There are other ways in which conductors lead by example.  The conductor is, for example, the visual centre-point for the audience as well as for all the musicians.  If (s)he slips, there’s nowhere to hide.  What’s more the conductor is the chief interpreter of the score, and every performance carries his personal stamp:  no critic expects to write “great performance – except for the conductor”.  I vividly remember a performance of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, conducted by Daniel Barenboim at London’s Royal Festival Hall.  It’s rare for me to be carried away by a performance of Beethoven’s 9th – it is too frequently performed and uncomfortably and persistently high in the voice.  Barenboim stood on the podium and barely moved a muscle in a performance that had everyone involved completely spellbound.  His was the courage to do something that is rarely (if ever) done and to risk the extremes of success and failure.  More recently, Martyn Brabbins showed a different kind of courage when he conducted Havergal Brian’s rarely performed Gothic Symphony, conducting 800 singers and 120 orchestral players as well as soloists.
Some of the conductors whose leadership I have most enjoyed have inspired me with their love and generosity.  It has always been a pleasure to sing under the baton of Antonio Pappano.  I always think ‘ice cream seller’ when I work with Pappano.  At the same time, more than any other conductor, he radiates a quality I can only describe as love – for the music he conducts and for the people he works with.  I feel safe in his care as well as inspired to perform from a place of deep connection with the music.  How can I do anything other than give of my best?
As it happens, Pappano was Barenboim’s assistant at the Bayreuth Festival some years ago:  leadership in the world of music includes nurturing the next generation.  I remember watching one quietly understated act of sponsorship some years ago, when the chorus was rehearsing Mahler’s 8th Symphony alongside the National Youth Orchestra under the baton of Sir Simon Rattle.  Part way through the rehearsal Rattle signalled to the young timpanist to take his place on his podium so that he could walk back into the hall and listen to the assembled forces.  I remember thinking that this was no accident – that this was as much about sponsoring this young man in the role of conductor as it was about any need to test the balance of sound from chorus and orchestra.  (And yes, I was delighted to watch the young man concerned, Robin Ticciati, make his debut conducting the London Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican).
So, vision, commitment, pursuing high standards, leading by example, love and generosity – these are some of the qualities it has been my privilege to observe amongst conductors.  What qualities do you observe – and appreciate – amongst leaders inside and outside the world of work?

Accountability: are we getting it right?

Developing as a leader,

David Cameron speaks at a youth center

This blog posting was one of two I offered for posting on Discuss HR on Thursday 18th August.  Take a look to see which one was posted!

On Monday evening, 8th August I was at home in a quiet side-road in the suburbs of South East London when I became aware that there were far more people on the pavements than I am used to seeing.  Looking down the street towards the Shopping Centre (which is just two minutes walk away) I was shocked to see a line of police officers carrying riot shields.  I watched the scenes that unfolded, which culminated in two cars being set alight before the young men and women involved moved on.

The implications for the organisations we work for have, without doubt, been significant.  A variety of organisations (magistrates’ courts, prisons, the police etc.) have played a very direct role in restoring law and order.  Retailers have been coping with damage to their property as well as the cost of stolen goods.  Diverse employers have had to make decisions about employees who have been identified as participants in the riots.

The rhetoric of politicians has been predictable.  Prime Minister David Cameron, following his first emergency meeting, was quick to condemn the acts of rioters, setting up a moral dichotomy between the bad guys and the good guys (those who took part in the riots and those who were in some way affected by their actions or involved in responding to them).  Having quickly coined the term “broken Britain” he laid out plans on Monday to “turn around the lives of the 120,000 most troubled families” by the next election.  As well as recognising the direct impact on many organisations of last week’s riots I invite you to consider what politicians’ responses tell us about the dos and don’ts of accountability.

Accountability is a tricky term, with multiple meanings and applications.  The banking crisis in 2008 highlighted questions of accountability between organisations – the banks to governments, for example, and governments to their electorate.  Within organisations, it raised questions of who is accountable to whom – and how to hold people to account.  When we get accountability wrong, we mask the problems of our organisations even whilst appearing to take action.  This is the “sound and fury” approach to accountability, characterised by vociferous complaints and maybe even decisive action – without ever taking long enough to get to the root causes of a problem or issue.  It has its benefits – at least on the surface:  in particular, it can protect an organisation’s leaders from the pain and vulnerability that comes with owning their mistakes.

When we get it right, something deeper and more lasting occurs.  Accountability is no longer a matter of blame and condemnation when something goes wrong.  It is an ongoing dialogue between parties (a manager and employee, one team and another, or members of the Board) about desired aims and outcomes, who will do what and when in order to move towards those desired outcomes, what’s working and what’s not working and what needs to happen next.  In an accountable organisation, for example, feedback at annual appraisal time comes as no surprise and is openly shared as the basis of a discussion, rather than given under the cover of anonymity as a stick used to beat the unsuspecting employee.

It seems to me that there is a paradox at work at the heart of every effective system of accountability.  When we strip out blame we create the opportunity for a deeper and more productive mutual dialogue because we make it safe to be “in the wrong”.  At the same time, in a true system of accountability, each party knows that it may be them who has the hardest lessons to learn.  By creating safety for everyone involved we make it possible to engage in the very depth of the dialogue needed to hold people to account.  In other words, true accountability is safe – but not the easy option.

If our country’s politicians act with wisdom in their response to the recent riots, they will understand that the louder the sound and fury, the more key people are likely to be let off the hook.  I hope they will take time to investigate the complex factors which, together, stimulated the riots and to take the most difficult learning for themselves as well as to mete out justice to others.  Closer to home I wonder, how has your business been affected by the riots?  What do you see as the key lessons in organisations if they want, truly, to create effective systems of accountability?  And what is the role of HR in facilitating accountability in their organisations?

Talking about leadership

Developing as a leader,

Monday, 8th August.  This afternoon I finished my first draft of an article about leadership, drawing on my experience as a membership of the London Symphony Chorus.  The article will be published next week, on Discuss HR as well as here on my blog.  I mentioned a number of conductors I worked with and wondered, afterwards, if any of them have spoken about leadership.  My first stop has been YouTube, which is such a fabulous resource.

Perhaps because he was one of the last conductors I mentioned in my article, I looked first for interviews with Antonio Pappano.  It has been a rare treat for me to sing under Pappano’s baton and I feel blessed every time.  I always find myself thinking of Pappano as having something of the ice-cream seller about him – there’s something about his Italian/Essex/American accent and his looks that makes me think gelato.  This takes nothing away from my deep respect and affection for him – in truth, these are simply qualities he transmits in abundance and which I mirror back.  I found a number of interviews with him and dipped into one in which he talks about the genre of verismo in Opera – just follow this link to hear him.

It led me in turn to another in which I listened to Jonas Kaufmann singing Vesti la giubba under Pappano’s baton.  Kaufmann’s singing is powerfully emotional and – as Pappano describes in his interview – nonetheless perfectly controlled.

Now… back to leadership.

There were riots outside my front door today

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There were riots outside my front door today.  This is not something I ever thought I’d say.

As I left my home office at the back of the house at about 6pm this evening I was surprised to notice the number of people lingering outside in the normally quiet side-street in which I live.  Looking down the street I was shocked to see police in riot gear.

The scenes that followed were not pretty.  The police were significantly outnumbered by the people on the street, who looked young, included many black men – and white men and women, too.  They started to seek out items they could throw – the local dustbins, wheely bins, items from front gardens (including mine).

Most of the projectiles were aimed at the police.  Soon, though, the small number of cars parked on the street became targets.  First one window was broken.  Then another.  Over time the cars went from being a side show to becoming the main attraction as it became increasingly clear that there was a determination amongst the rioters to set them alight.  Soon they had succeeded and, given the fire hazard, it was time for the rioters to move on.

For a while I sat indoors wondering if it was safe to be in the rooms overlooking the street.  Then I ventured out to ask the police if it was safe to pop down the road for some food and fresh air.  They encouraged me to stay safely at home, in case the rioters returned.  As I returned home, two young men were in front of my gate and I asked if I could come through and encouraged them to get away from the proximity of the still burning cars.  We got talking.

Were you involved this evening?  I asked.  No, not us, we’re good boys.  We’re just covering up our faces because we don’t want to risk losing our jobs if we’re seen.  But they (pointing to the police) – they’ve got to understand that if they keep taking our jobs away, we’re going to do something – they’ve got to understand.

When they announced there were riots in Lewisham on the 7pm news bulletin I knew to give my Mum a ring and to pop a status update on Facebook.  People have been leaving messages all evening and the phone has not stopped ringing.  It’s a touching reminder of the love people have for me.  As the evening has unfolded I have been watching the BBC 24-hour news of riots in Lewisham, Peckham, Hackney, Croydon, Birmingham.

The phrase “mindless thugs” has been used so many times.  The risk is clear.  Young people crying out to be heard are dismissed by the simple use of a label.  And because they are not being heard, they shout louder.  The police, seeking to do the best for their community, are also not being heard.  Neither side is able to see beyond the label – “police”, “rioters”, “thugs”… with each new label we become a little less human in each others’ eyes.

I want to be clear.  I do not favour the kind of action these young people took this evening and I want them to be held accountable.  At the same time, I want them to be heard.  It seems to me that this is a time for sorting the wheat from the chaff, until we have stripped away the acts of mindless destruction – perhaps even the violence on both sides – to understand the real concerns on all sides.

For me, though, right now, it’s time to sleep.  My dreams cannot be any stranger than the reality of this evening’s events.

What’s going to waste in your organisation?

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Recently I have been finding new pleasure in gardening.  Last year I planted courgettes and tomatoes in my back garden.  This year I have added runner beans, broccoli, cucumber and more besides.  I find a joy and stillness in the daily activities of watering the vegetables and attending to the weeds.  Nothing is more satisfying than the twilight slug raid.

This has been reflected in my reading, too.  Last night I read the first 30 pages of Bob Flowerdew’s book, Composting, and yesterday I tried an intriguing recipe – using beetroot leaves – from Monty and Sarah Don’s Home Cookbook.  The Dons’ recipe involved taking the leaves from some fresh beetroot, blanching it for five minutes and then gently frying it in olive oil with some chilli and garlic.  I added some seeds – a favourite! – and also some beetroot which I’d boiled separately before cutting it into eighths and adding it to the remainder.  I served the lot on fresh toast.  It was totally divine.

“I hate waste, especially wasted food”.  This was the first sentence of the preface to the recipe.  It made me wonder:  what’s going to waste in my life because I don’t recognise its value?  And yes, it made me wonder, in the organisations I work with, what’s going to waste because nobody can see its worth?

Do you have any thoughts about the hidden treasures that might be going to waste in your life or organisation?

When we discover areas in which we need to develop

Developing as a leader, Emotional Intelligence, , ,

On Tuesday, I wrote about playing to our strengths.  Today, I’m wondering if I’m going to contradict myself.  What if you have an accelerated career and then, suddenly, you bump up against a limitation that could trip you up if you go any further on the path you are following?  This was the experience of one client I assessed recently.

After our initial feedback session he did all the right things.  He tested the assessment feedback against the perceptions of a variety of colleagues, recognising the value of diverse perspectives.  He looked for ways to bridge the gap in his repertoire, seeking out a mentor with strengths in the areas in which he needed to develop.  He started to explore a wider range of possibilities for his next career move, recognising that there could be benefits to moving diagonally rather than straight up the ladder.  These benefits include:

  • Broadening his experience and in this way broadening his understanding of the business;
  • Building on his strengths whilst opening up opportunities to close the gaps in his repertoire;
  • Broadening his understanding of the range of roles in which he could succeed.  This in turn carries the potential to build confidence and self esteem by reducing the pressure that comes when you have only one target role in mind.

As a result of his actions, what looked for a moment like a full stop turned out to be something quite different, opening up a broader range of possibilities than my client had previously had in his sights.

How does this work to his strengths?  How might it work to yours?  Taking action to develop in areas in which we lack strength may reveal an as yet hidden talent.  This can lead to a new injection of energy and momentum in our careers as leaders.  And yes, in truth, it can lead us to discover an area in which we lack natural ability.

Initially, this doesn’t always feel good.  Some high performers, faced suddenly with a situation in which they lack the skills they need, start to weave a story about how they were never as good as they thought they were, how they lack what it takes to succeed… suddenly, their self esteem takes a dramatic tumble.

Others, though, recognise that they can’t be good at everything.  The most canny amongst them are able to weigh the likelihood that they can bridge the gap and assess the benefits if they do.  Perhaps they will decide that it’s essential to bridge the gap and easy to do:  clearly, this is a “tick yes” scenario.  Perhaps they will recognise that it’s essential to have these skills and hard for them to develop in this area:  this can be a “tick delegate” scenario.  The best leaders know when to delegate and they also feel comfortable about sharing their limitations openly as well as their strategy for plugging the gap.

When in your career have you come up against areas in which you lack the skills you need to succeed?  What strategies have you used to plug the gaps?

Playing to our strengths

Emotional Intelligence,

I have been carrying out a number of assessments in recent months.  By the time of the assessment the people I interview, who already hold senior roles, have been short-listed for a new job.  From time to time, I interview someone who, whilst he or she has everything it takes to succeed in the role, lacks a certain clarity about what s/he wants.  S/he can’t answer the question “is this job for me?” because s/he doesn’t know what job is for him or her.

It’s not uncommon.  Many of us develop skills along the way and get good at all sorts of things.  At the same time, we may be unaware that the skills we have developed do not match our natural strengths.  Indeed, some of our natural strengths may lie dormant – barely developed, let alone used.

I was reminded of this recently, when I received an e-mail from a client with whom I have been in correspondence about a potential coaching client in his organisation.  “Do you know of a suitable venue for the two of you to meet?” he asked.  I was taken by surprise:  I didn’t know that we would be meeting away from the client’s offices.  I scanned our correspondence and quickly found this request, which I’d completely overlooked in a previous e-mail:  “And, she’d prefer to meet off-site, can you recommend a suitable location?”

My first response was:  “How did I miss that?  It’s not like me to overlook something like that.”  Perhaps, though, it is like me to overlook the details – except for the fact that, over the years, I have learnt to be meticulous in following things through.  Is it a natural strength for me to pay attention to detail?  I don’t know for sure.  I do know, though, that a moment like this offers an opportunity to step back and ask:  “Is this strength innate or acquired?”

What’s the significance of this?  The bottom line is simple:  the more we are developing and using our innate strengths, the more likely we are to be in the flow, working successfully and with ease.  The more we are using strengths we have developed though they are not innate, the more we may find our work hard and be prone to errors.  In the case of the people I interview who don’t quite know what they want from their next job, well – they may be doing something they’re good at, something even, in which they excel.  But somehow it’s not giving them joy.  And because they lack practice of connecting with their true strengths, they feel somehow at sea – lacking a sense of connection with themselves via their innate strengths.

I want to add that this is one perspective, with which not everyone would agree.  Whilst I have not read Alex Linley’s The Strengths Book:  Be Confident, Be Successful and Enjoy Better Relationships by Realising the Best of You, for example, I am aware that this posting reflects the theory he and his co-authors put forward.  (I am aware of this because I have had the experience of having feedback using Linley’s theory with the help of Gill How at Buonacorsi Consulting).  Equally, I was recently told about Matthew Syed’s book Bounce:  Mozart, Federer, Picasso, Beckham and the Science of Success by someone who had just started reading it and whose understanding was that this book highlights the importance of practice in creating successful outcomes.

Perhaps the place both theories meet is in the area of flow – that place where we are both happy and successful because we are cultivating the gifts that come to us most naturally.

I wonder, what do you think?

Taking it personally: the other side of the coin

Emotional Intelligence,

So, you’ve decided the last person you want to talk to is your colleague Sandra.  You can’t stand her.  If you see her coming you change your route (the last thing you want to do is get in the lift with her).  You can’t see the good in anything she does.  And as the leader of your team, you have made it very easy for your team members to ignore any directives that come from her department.  Perhaps Sandra is in your Finance Department (why can’t we process invoices the old way?) or HR (let them choke on their policy handbook!)  You don’t care.

You think your dislike is all about Sandra.  Who does she think she is?!  She turns up out of nowhere full of new ideas and expects you to jump to her tune.  You notice every little thing you don’t like about her (that she’s female, a “dumb blonde”, too posh, unjustly promoted… the list goes on and on).  And all the time you’re thinking about Sandra, you don’t begin to notice what’s really going on for you.

A start in this direction would be to use a few phrases that take ownership of the way you’re thinking about your colleague.  I notice that when I think of Sandra, I have really strong feelings – of anger, frustration, hatred…  I’m telling myself that there are all sorts of things wrong with her:  that she’s female, a “dumb blonde”, too posh, unjustly promoted…  The more I tell myself these things, the more my feelings intensify.  The more I tell myself these things, the more I feel justified in behaving towards her in ways I would never behave towards anyone I respect.

Noticing what’s going on on the surface is just the beginning.  What’s going on underneath?  My guess as your observer is that behind the anger and hatred lies some fear – and it is just a guess.  Perhaps you’re afraid that you don’t have what it takes to organise your troupes to respond to her requests, even though, deep down, you know you need to.  Perhaps you’re finding it hard to accept that people younger than you (and women, too) are starting to overtake you in the hierarchy of the organisation.  Perhaps… perhaps…

Perhaps you find Sandra a little intimidating.  You’re putting on your best brave face and doing your best to stay safe and formal but underneath it, you’d love to know that she’s as human as you are.  You’d love to know it – and you’re waiting for her to show some sign.  You hope that if you push her just a little she might just crack – without you having to reveal your own fears and vulnerabilities.

Some readers might imagine that you’re a junior member of the team, old and unsophisticated.  I have sometimes met you at the most senior levels of organisations.  Sandra knows who you are and in what capacity you – and she – work.  What’s hardest for you and Sandra – at what ever level you work – is to see that your current behaviours are simply your best attempts to meet your needs, needs that you probably don’t even recognise.  They’re not the most effective strategies for meeting your needs but that hasn’t stopped you from continuing to use them.

What would I say to you?  It’s time to get under the skin of your needs and really understanding them.  That way you can begin to find ways to meet them – ways that work.  Perhaps, in order to do so, you need to face your fears.  I know that’s hard for you.

What would I say to Sandra?  Perhaps she, too, needs to get under the skin of your needs and understand them.  She needs to understand her own needs, too.  A first step towards understanding your needs and hers may well be to know that your behaviour is about you and not about her.

And as for you, as reader of this blog, I wonder, what does this blog posting evoke for you?

Taking it personally

Emotional Intelligence,

Taking on a new team, my client* faces a wall of resistance.  The signs are sometimes subtle, sometimes open and obvious.  How is it that you are never able to get through to one colleague by phone, except when you phone from a number other than your own?  How many times have you seen colleagues take a sharp left rather than join you in conversation as you leave the building to walk to the car park?  How is it that meetings are always formal and never friendly?  How is it that it’s Team A’s members who are always late?

The obvious signs of resistance are far easier to deal with than those which leave us to infer.  An open statement of resistance allows us to ask questions and find out what’s going on.  The hidden signs – perhaps the quasi hidden signs – are more challenging.  We can observe the behaviours and notice the patterns and still, without more information, we can only guess what they denote.  Are they signs of resistance or dislike?  Or are they simply signs that Jo is an introvert and prefers not to walk to the car park with his colleagues?  Or that people from Team A are more likely to be late to meetings – to any meetings – than colleagues elsewhere in the building.

We can of course, ask questions.  “I notice that five members of your team have been late to meetings in the last three weeks and that members of other teams have been on time.  Is there a reason for that that you know of?”  It can be so easy.  It can be so difficult.  Sometimes these patterns of subtle resistance stimulate feelings of vulnerability, leaving us slightly off balance.  (Perhaps, we think, they’re intended to do this).

Trusted colleagues join us in wondering what’s behind the behaviours.  He doesn’t like it that you’re female (a “dumb blonde”, too posh, got promoted over his head etc. – the list goes on).  And of course, if you are, there’s nothing you can do to change your inherent characteristics or the circumstances in which you find yourself.  You start to feel stuck.

It’s time to step back and remember:

  • Your own conjectures or those of your colleagues may be right – or they may be wrong.  You don’t know unless you check them out.  (And yes, even then, you may not get an honest answer);
  • Insofar as your colleague does think you’re female (and that’s a problem) or a “dumb blonde”, or too posh, or got promoted over his head – well, that’s about what your colleague thinks rather than about you;
  • Underneath your colleague’s thoughts lie some unmet needs that even he has not yet identified.  I say this with confidence – if he has, it seems to me he wouldn’t be mentioning your gender or the colour of your hair;
  • If you’re feeling vulnerable or off balance it’s a sign that there’s something about the way you’re thinking that has you feel that way.
It’s time to do your work:  to tease out what you know to be true and what is pure conjecture on your part (or the part of your colleague).  And if it feels hard for you to ask the questions that will lead you to the truth, well “hard” is where your work begins.
I wonder, what does this posting evoke for you?

*This example is a composite from the experience of multiple clients and all identifying information has been changed.

Reflecting on A Simpler Way

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It’s Tuesday afternoon as I write and I find myself reflecting on the cycles of nature and how they play out in our work.


Last week, for example, I was at home on Monday, as I usually am, coaching by phone.  The weather was so glorious that I had breakfast in the garden before starting my work.  Later I enjoyed lunch outside in the shade.  I notice how being in nature settles me so that I feel more grounded.  Later in the week the sunshine was followed by rain and a different rhythm to my schedule though the afterglow of a sunny day was with me for several days.


This week, I’m still tired after a demanding weekend.  I was all lined up for a meeting this afternoon, cancelled at short notice.  I get to write this blog posting and to catch up with other tasks.  My body is calling out for sleep… sleep…


The industrial era made machines of us all.  The introduction of mechanisation gave a steady rhythm to manufacturing work and we organised ourselves around the machines that served us.  It was important to start on time, finish on time:  important because the machines needed our care and attention to do their job.


How does this play out in our post-industrial society?  There is a risk that we organise ourselves around needs that no longer exist, measuring our contribution by the number of hours we work.  Anne Wilson Schaef, author of  The Addictive Organization: Why We Overwork, Cover up, Pick up the Pieces, Please the Boss, and Perpetuate Sick Organizations, sees this as a symptom of addiction in organisations and outside of our collective conscious awareness.  Tim Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Work Week:  Escape the 9-5, Live Anywhere and Join the New Rich, is an advocate for a different way of life and so are Margaret J. Wheatley and Myron Kellner-Rogers who, in their book A Simpler Way, draw parallels with nature to invite us to a life that is less arduous and more delightful.


When we check in with our own rhythms as well as the rhythms of nature we know that there are times when we are raring to go and times when we need rest and restoration.  When we check in with the rhythms of our work we know there are times we need to go flat out to meet a deadline and times when such effort is not needed.  How often, though, do we act from this conscious awareness?  How often do we work hard because, somehow, it’s the done thing, looks good, scores points with the boss… even when, deep down, we know it’s costing us and even know it brings no benefit in terms of the quantity or quality of our output.


I wonder, how do you respond to Wheatley’s and Kellner-Rogers’ call to a life that is less arduous and more delightful?