Treading Purposefully

I took myself off for a long walk 'up-country' on Friday last week, with the intention of putting some kilometres under my boots without worrying about who else was around or was likely to cause me any concerns (see last week's blog). 

I was able to walk from home up into the South Downs National Park and National Trust land, and westward from there into the flatlands beyond the village of Angmering.

For four and a half hours, I walked into the wind and away from the day-to-day niggling concerns and worries which seem to predominate my thinking nowadays.

And the way I was able to do that was to follow pathways hitherto unexplored by me, but helpfully - and literally - mapped out for me in the Ordnance Survey map in my hand.

Much of the walk towards and into Angmering, I knew already. From there on, I relied on the map to take me further.

And I still went wrong almost immediately. The pathway wasn't as clear on the ground (up a side street) as it appeared to be on the map. 

But I was reminded that "a map is not the territory" (mathematician Alfred Korzybski, 1931). So I back-tracked, without giving myself a hard time about it, and essentially 'got back on track', mindful of something @CraigTaylor74 said on a map-reading and navigation exploration day a couple of years ago, "The landscape is never wrong".

Further on, back in the open countryside, I got to a point where I could turn left or right to start the farthest North/South leg of my walk before turning back East again. I had a choice to make - right (North) or left (South). Consulting the map, I went North, following the more interesting track indicated, around and between ponds and forest, until I found myself back in Angmering, where, once again, I got slightly lost in a housing estate.

But my sense of direction is good and I completed the circular part of my walk and had a wee break again in Angmering, before setting off for the final leg back home over known and previously-walked paths, with renewed intent and, despite tired legs, at a decent pace.

When I got home, I was invigorated and pleased to realise that both during my walk, and afterwards, my mind had quietened; that the volume of the  'noise' which usually accompanies me on shorter, local walks, had been turned down and I felt more at peace with myself.

The difference between walking just to get out of the house (Covid wandering) and walking with intent, albeit without a geographical destination in mind other than coming back home, and supported by a map and compass by which to navigate, was considerably more significant that I had realised.

My internal, noisy map had been taking over my wanderings. By navigating with intent and appropriate tools, I was able to focus on the landscape, looking up (there it is again!) and enjoying the physical and mental benefits of being in nature in those moments.

To steal from someone else again, "When map and terrain differ, follow the terrain".*

* fs blog

Unsaid

Here's a few of the undeveloped blogs that are currently languishing in the depths of my Evernote 'Blog Ideas' folder. Anything take your fancy? Please comment.

Photo under Creative Commons CCO 1.0

"Who's Lurking Under Your Bridge?" - something about trolls

"Why I'll Never be Eric Morecombe or Sean Connery" - something about confidence and voice

"Up Periscope!" - you could write this one yourself

"Motives and Madness" - Why show up? And what would happen if I didn't?

"Smiling Assassins" - a colleague's experience of being shafted behind their back

"Stranger Danger" - something about lessons from Netflix's 'Stranger Things'

"Ready for Redundancy" - preparedness for an increasingly likely scenario

"Who would want to listen to me?" - Imposter syndrome, social media & blogging

"Can't (Don't) Know it All" - and that's OK

"Intent versus Impact" - something about self awareness, assumptions, empathy

"The Universe & Me" - spirituality or philosophy?

"Unsaid" - something about blogs I may never work up and publish.

Oh, wait...

Proud

Earlier this week, I joined and participated in a particular professional tweetchat for the first time in several months and I was 'Mr Grumpy Pants' throughout. I found myself getting impatient with the L&D/ID/eLearning practitioner discussion, with only one or two other contributors reminding us about the 'customer' - be it the business or the learner themselves - whilst the main focus of the discussion rotated around eLearning outputs and related technology. I've tweeted and commented before about the tendency for us 'providers' to focus on our outputs, rather than our stakeholders' desired outcomes, and how we thereby perpetuate the disengagement of learners with 'product' and content, so I shan't repeat that here.

What really pushed me over the edge, however, was a comment made by one of the contributors, the CEO of a L&D/Training organisation, about their staff, which, I am sure, was meant in jest, but which surprised me by being aired in what I consider to be a reasonably 'enlightened' forum. The trigger word they used was 'subordinates'.

I've been a 'Manager' in both the public and private sectors for over 25 years. I've run my own business in partnership with my wife and others. I have a Level 4 Diploma in Management and have won a Training Manager of the Year award (for which I was nominated, without my knowledge, by my team and my own line manager). When I was ill last year, my team carried on our work autonomously and seamlessly, and continue to do so (apparently) now that I have followed a different professional path. If you read my LinkedIn profile, you will see that my career has always been one where I have worked collaboratively WITH others, even tho' I frequently held the title of being their 'Manager'. I have always considered those people to be my colleagues first and foremost and have never thought of myself as being 'superior' to them. I have always viewed my role to be that of developing my colleagues to get the best out of them that delivered the organisational requirements. To do that, I have met them as equals, as fellow-travellers with a shared interest in our field. And I have relied on them to fill in my blanks as I focussed on delivering our functional objectives.

So, back to the use of the term 'subordinates' in the above-mentioned tweetchat. I am not a fan of the use of the word 'passionate' in a professional context (as in, "I'm passionate about [insert subject here]". I think it's overused and consequently undervalued. It's become a cliche. As a result, I rarely use it. In fact, as circumstances and subsequent decisions have caused me to reflect on my professional future, I've realised that, actually, I'm not 'passionate' about L&D or Learning Technologies (that may turn out to be a career-limiting statement, of course). I'm good at them tho'. My track record demonstrates that. I am still very interested in and enjoy working in the field. I love the interactions and conversations I have with my peers and Personal Learning Network via Social Media and face to face. I know I have much still to offer, based on the knowledge, experience and skills I have developed over the last 35 years. But am I passionate about it? Really?

So I was surprised at my own reaction to the afore-mentioned tweet, referring to staff as 'subordinates'. I was genuinely shocked to see it, and I reacted in a totally emotional way. I was outraged. But I've learned about the pitfalls of 'firing from the hip' on social media What Else I Learned on my Holidays (2011) so I sat back, analysed how I really felt about it and then crafted and dropped a tweet anyway, acknowledging (hoping) that the comment had been made in jest, but challenging if that was an appropriate term to use nowadays.

One doesn't tweet challenging tweets without expecting some kind of response, so I wasn't surprised when the individual in question did respond. But I was surprised by the unrepentant (and frankly smug) response, that in their business, they do use that term (remember, this is the CEO of a large, apparently well-respected organisation, a self-proclaimed "performance training thought-leader"). 

Now well and truly triggered, I crafted and deleted several responses, finally settling on something close to what I wanted to say, which I then ran past my wife (@MandyRG) and asked her if I should even 'rise to the bait' by sending it. Her advice (as a trained psychotherapist) was that I was being invited into a 'game' and should be very careful about replying (wise woman!). But here's where 'passion' creeps back into the story. I really cared about this. I didn't want to let it lie. So I responded, acknowledging their right to operate their business as the liked, but that I chose to use different language in referring to my colleagues. Respectful but still making my point, I felt.

And then they hung themselves out to dry. Keen to get the last word in and/or to wind me up further, but forgetting that this was in a public forum, that their own staff may well see their tweets, forgetting that one person's 'humour' does not necessarily translate well in <140 characters, they further insulted their staff by tweeting two further even more dismissive and disrespectful terms to describe them. At which point, I withdrew from the conversation and walked away

Why have I shared this story with you? Not to name and shame (although regular followers may well have worked things out for themselves). Not to present myself as a champion of the underdog, nor some kind of 'supermanager'. But as a reflective piece on where and how it can all go wrong on social media, if and when we let our self-belief or passion (there, I've said it!) get ahead of our thinking and our mouths/fingers; how the difference between intent and impact should never be underestimated in public fora like Twitter.

Of course, I may have over-reacted to the whole thing. Maybe it was all tongue in cheek. Maybe I have played right into that individual's hands and shown myself up to be a self-righteous, humourless attention-seeker. I am, however, proud of myself. Proud of standing up for my values and beliefs in a professional and respectful manner. Proud of not being drawn into someone else's game. Proud of intuiting when to walk away.  And proud of not making a public and potentially business-impacting fool of myself.

Unless, of course, I have just done exactly that.

Your thoughts and comments are, as ever, very welcome.

Exclusion Zone

I kept away from social media yesterday. I felt that my SoMe (social media) communities were engaged in a collective discussion around a topic for which, although I had some sympathy, I was not 'qualified' nor engaged with enough to want to participate in or discuss, nor to raise any other topic which could be construed as 'off message'. The topic, of course, was the death of David Bowie.

This got me thinking about why so many people have a view that social media is 'not for them'; how they feel excluded from 'the club'; that they 'don't have anything to say' in those spaces. I get that. I have found a community - and a voice - in social media, principally in my professional field of Learning & Development, but also in other areas of personal interest. And those communities  have been enormously important and supportive to me and my family in this last year, for which I am eternally grateful.

But sometimes, it feels like I'm the only person in the world who hasn't been touched by - or indeed, cares enough about - some events. And that triggers my 'not belonging' injunction, big time. I feel myself drawing back into my shell, wanting to keep my head down, whilst trying to resist an underlying anger and almost contempt for others' genuine and sincere sharing of their individual feelings. This makes me feel even more unworthy and shallow, as though I am lacking in empathy or cultural awareness, whilst all around me are remembering, emoting, respecting and sharing their grief and their loss. 

This is difficult stuff, by the way, and I share my thoughts here advisedly. I made the mistake several years ago (2011 in fact) of expressing a contrary view to the death of another cultural icon in a fairly dismissive tweet, and was rightly called out on it. I blogged then about how that changed my perspective and thinking about intent versus impact in social media "What Else I Learned on my Holidays"

Nowadays, I try to exercise consideration (and thereby constraint) in my SoMe activities. I am very conscious of the appropriateness of topic or comment in the face of others' national, community, collective or indeed, individual experience, which is immediate and heartfelt. Whilst I recognise the importance and significance of David Bowie's leadership in our art, music and culture over the last 50 years, and I totally get how important he was to so many people - particularly, it appears, in my SoMe and PLN (Personal Learning Network) communities - and whilst sad for his family, friends and admirers for their loss, I remain pretty untouched by his death.

So I stepped back yesterday and let everyone get on with it. No offence intended.  As my Jewish In-Laws say at times like this, I wish you a long life.