thefutureisquantum

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The future is quantum

“There’s a physics equation for that”.

There are times in our lives that are accompanied by total, absolute clarity, uninterrupted by anything other than the experience of the moment. It’s fashionable today in organisational life to talk mindfulness as a means to achieve clarity, wellbeing, and experience the moment, live in the present etc. And of course there is the inevitable plethora of solutions packaged as an App, a workshop or several. Often packaged to the smallest amount of time possible by the way.

Solutions and apps have their place. Of course they do. But. And there is always a but, or at least there should be if you really care about the impact your work has on others. In a field that is still described as fluffy or woolly it’s critical that we can make a case for our HR & OD offerings. That means having a sound understanding of the theoretical basis for our work and the skill, wisdom and judgement to apply what theory tells us to the dynamic, challenging, inspiring, infuriating, maddening, often inexplicable places that we work in.

I’m not sure we spend enough time on the science. We’re excited now about neuroscience but neuroscience has been around for millenia. Our amazing occupational and organisational psychology colleagues have had to spend way too long convincing us of their value too. Safe to say human beings aren’t the early adopters we’d like to think.

I’m also not convinced that we look as wide as we can for what science can offer us in our quest to better understand people, genuinely harness our talents and provide us with opportunities to learn, develop and really thrive at work. For some the science of behaviour is too ‘hard’, it denies the magical, often mysterious connections between people and events. But perhaps it doesn’t have to be one or the other.

“Magic is science we don’t understand yet” is attributed to the late, great Arthur C Clarke. I love this, it speaks to me deeply. It recognises that science has it’s place but that magic does too. It moves me to explore the visible and invisible connections between human beings within and across organisations.

And this is where physics comes in. My memory of physics from my secondary school years was dissecting a bulls eye. Not the most pleasant memory imaginable. Together with the endless equations, it’s safe to say that physics was not my favourite topic. Years later however, quantum physics would become the gateway to magical explorations about the human mind, human behaviour and soul/spirit that I expect will continue until the day this life ends. And who knows after that.

It’s hard to know quite when I started to love physics again and think about how it applies to life and organisations. A car crash nearly 25 years ago was a definite start. An evening drive back in the middle of January from a 2 day workshop in Birmingham turned out to be much longer thanks to really bad weather outside the city.

Stay overs were not my first choice in my consulting days if they could be avoided and it was safe to travel. I love night driving, there is a peace to it and much less distraction from other drivers. It offers safe space, peace and time to process everything that close working with colleagues brings. This particular client was in the midst of an acquisition-merger which was, in reality, a complete takeover. We were wrestling with all sorts of silly bullshit stuff around operating models and business process re-engineering when what the programme team (and HR) were crying out for was us to focus on the people. It’s always the people stupid.

This particular night found me listening to Alanis Morissette and looking forward to the last five minutes of the drive so I could get home and use the loo. I was thinking how quickly I could get out of the car, open the front door and why is it that you always starting thinking about how much you need a widdle when you are so close to home. And then of course, it happened.

Because things always happen when they are inconvenient or you have something else on your mind (or at least that is how it is for me).

I hit black ice.

Two miles out from the village at midnight in Winter is stunning. Breathtaking really. It is pitch black, but if you are lucky the sky is filled with more stars than you could imagine, never mind count. The shapes of trees, ancient hedges and farm buildings loom large and demand attention. The sounds of nature echo eerily but in a way that captures, humbles and profoundly moves the soul. Alanis Morisette’s ‘Thank You’ blaring was pretty magical too, and apt as it turned out.

I knew as soon as I hit it that I had totally lost control of the car. I remember thinking very clearly that I should turn the steering wheel the other way but my hands lifted off the wheel completely. Definitely not what your driving instructor recommends. I remember feeling profoundly curious and utterly detached watching my hands come off the wheel and me wondering why on earth would I do that? Everything, until I hit the verge on the opposite side of the road was mesmerising, slow motion. I could see lights coming in the other direction and I knew with absolute certainty that if that car came around the corner as mine was veering on the wrong side of the road I would be dead. And I remember feeling how sad it would be if someone else was hurt; and how bloody typical to have an accident so soon after I had moved into my home.

As I hit the verge on the other side of the road I remember being acutely aware of a presence surrounding me – a force between me and the steering wheel. And a knowing that I would be ok even as I was hurtling towards huge oak trees in front of me. I remember my glasses flying off my face. They flew over my left shoulder and I remember turning my head to watch them and listening to a voice saying in my right ear:

“There’s a physics equation for that”.

Seconds later the car had taken out several oak saplings, but it caught on the saplings underneath and turned 90 degrees. Thanks be to the Gods I say. The passenger side of the car caught the Oak trees full on and completely shattered the back window. If it hadn’t turned, I would have been head on in those oak trees. Then silence. And then Alanis singing her heart out God Bless her. I remember thinking I’ve got to get out because I didn’t know what damage had been done to the petrol tank. And I remember thinking why the hell hadn’t the air bag gone off and then of course, a memory – forces unseen protecting me. The invisible air bag.

The shortsighted amongst us will know that pitch black is something else when you don’t have your specs on. I remember being able to open the back door and feeling my way through shattered glass and picking my specs up. Not a single damned scratch on them. At all. All these years later I’m still taken aback by that.

Call it fate, call it synchronicity, call it whatever. The fabulous lady driving towards me had seen the accident, stopped and found me dazed and muttering about my specs and the back windscreen being completely shattered. The whiplash would kick in the next day and last many months. Apparently that day the weather had been awful and there’d been multiple accidents round and about. She called 999.

I sat in a police car with a wonderful police lady until the recovery chap came. She told me about all the road problems that day, so some comfort that it wasn’t shite driving. She sat with me whilst I shook uncontrollably as I recited what had happened. I remember her laughing as I asked her if she’d mind if I widdled in the hedge – a wrecked pair of tights a small price to pay. She said to me that I was looked after that night. When the recovery chap came he said I know I’m not supposed to say this but that car is a write-off. He too said that I was lucky to be alive.

Lovely WPC got me home and lovely best friend forced me to drive her car on the same road the next day. I drove to where the car crashed and we could see the damage and the front headlights and other bits of car. I can’t remember how I got to see the car again. I must have taken a cab to the recovery garage but I remember I had to collect log book and Alanis and other CD’s. I remember feeling horrified and deeply shocked at the damage – the left hand side of the car was destroyed, front left bumper crumpled, neither passenger side doors could be opened, axle ruined and God knows what else. There are only so many times it’s good to hear that you are lucky to be alive. That car, my first wonderful car saved my life. As did a good bit of magic – forces unseen.

And the point of this story?

It’s in the detachment; the power of observing with absolute clarity unencumbered by anything else. The insight that comes from total attention given to a situation, or a person. The total lack of control but the empowerment that trust offers when you can separate yourself from knowing what an outcome might be. That distance is a powerful mediator in how we see things. Lifetimes seemingly lived in moments. And the profound transformation that often happens at the very edges, in places we don’t often find ourselves. The invisible is as powerful a force in our lives as the visible – and worthy of exploration in our working and private lives.

The Future is Quantum is a contribution to that exploration.

Extras

Neuroscience rightly, is being explored further in our HR & OD practice. It’s a much broader discipline than you’d think and it’s origins much much earlier too. Eric Chudler, PhD sets out an amazing history for the University of Washington.

The lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s Thank You can be found here at Genius. It’s a beautiful song I think. And it will stick with me forever. I have a lot to thank forces unseen for. There’s a brilliant and very moving explanation of the journey that led to her writing that song in India. It resonates I think with the challenges that many of us experience between outward signs of success versus the experience of our inner life.

I’m going to be writing much more about Quantum stuff. But a brilliant starting point is What the Bleep Do We Know. The link takes you to the website behind the film. I can’t recommend it highly enough, it is one of the most inspiring films I have ever watched and I’m pretty ancient these days and have watched alot of films. It’s a gateway to some of the most extraordinary thinkers around these days and a fabulous introduction to quantum physics.

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Forces unseen

“You have to go back”.

And that was the end of what is commonly described these days as my near death experience (NDE). It happened during a first visit with a family friend to our local swimming pool. I don’t know why I slipped on the floor of the pool but I did – the comical thing to me about the whole thing is that I wasn’t anywhere near the deep end. By the way, that would turn out to be a metaphor for the most interesting times in my life and career, but more of that in future blogs perhaps.

It turned out that I wasn’t under water for that long, but the after effects and impact of what happened that day changed me for ever.

On the threshold of life and ‘not life’ is a pretty interesting place to be. And the assumption of ‘not life’, is interesting too when you think about it. I remember with total clarity falling into a tunnel as soon as I went under water. A tunnel of light. The brightest light I had ever seen, but the most gentle, compelling, nurturing, loving and peaceful light. I remember anticipation and excitement and confusion and curiosity. Who knew that the floor of a tunnel could be made out of light. Not nearly 10 year old me.

And then I saw three shapes. I have never ever ‘worried’ about who the shapes were. I remember feeling profoundly comforted in their presence and a desire to stay with them. But then a voice, from the shape in the middle said “You have to go back”.

Just as I was about to argue that I wanted to stay I remember being aware of something over my right shoulder and my journey down that beautiful tunnel was over. An arm under my stomach pulled me out and there followed some pretty spectacular (and probably not remotely graceful) coughing water out of my lungs.

The most compelling memories still – over 40 years later – are the profound absence of fear. The profound awareness of forces unseen. An urgent curiosity to explore. And often times a deep sense of anger and loss that I could not stay.

The remarkable John O’Donohue wrote in “To Bless the Space Between Us”:

“A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms and atmospheres.”

These frontiers, these territories exist in our own lives, our families, our communities and most definitely our organisations.

I’m yet to fully reconcile the ‘why’ of my entanglement with the frontier between life and not life and the purpose it is meant to serve. But it has left me with a profound sense of awareness that we are much more than a physical being, we are spiritual beings too. And it birthed an endless fascination about how we humans approach these frontiers.

It is in the approaching a frontier that we test our ideas of what we are capable of and it is in the crossing of these frontiers that we expand our lived experience of these new territories, rhythms and atmospheres. And of course we also learn much about others in the process too.

The human spirit is an extraordinary thing and my own experience is that we are limited only by our understanding of what is possible, the limits we impose on ourselves and those imposed by others. The latter are often the most powerful sadly.

It was perhaps inevitable that I would end up working in HR and OD – vacancies for Corporate Shamans were pretty few and far between as you can imagine in those days! And they still are. In my early years working in HR and OD the notion that we would consider spirit, talk about expanding frontiers beyond the physical – marked you out as different, emotional, unreliable and plenty of other unhelpful terms. Our view of human potential limited to endless recycling of talent initiatives that do little to capture our hearts, minds and spirit. Or, at least they don’t tap into the full potential of hearts, mind and spirit. Not by a long shot.

We’re a different profession now thankfully, but there are plenty more thresholds to explore. When dark humour is the order of the day, I reflect that for many of us (far too many of us) crossing the frontier of HR policy can, in itself, feel completely insurmountable. And that’s a total waste of what we are capable of. And we need to address that.

I know with certainty, that forces unseen – visible and invisible thresholds, hold potential for deep exploration. For profound transformation. For magic.

Do it because you carry the fire…

In my last meaningful conversation with Dad, i.e., when morphine didn’t play a role, we talked about his death. In truth it felt like we had been doing that off and on since he’d been diagnosed with Cancer in March 2010, but this time we knew that he was going to die.

We talked about what would happen when he was gone. He always had a really clear view of what he wanted and we sorted those practicalities then. But what he really wanted was that we lived life. We had increasingly talked about the afterlife. He knew I was pretty open to whatever comes next so we made a pact that if I was followed around by a Robin, then I would know it was him.

I was pretty sure I could see the rolling of the eyes then ……

The Robin holds a deep meaning and many different interpretations for many cultures. And one that seems disproportionate to it’s size, but maybe therein lies an assumption that needs to be corrected in time. The three years since Dad died have been very busy and the last 18 months for all of us has been profoundly turbulent. But off and on in the three years, a Robin has appeared.

About a month ago one got in through my back door – which has never happened in the nearly twenty five years I have lived in my home. I figured that was a sign, but the distraction of capturing and releasing the wee thing with two excitable Chocolate Labradors in tow meant I was distracted from too much introspection. I normally run scared with flapping wings but this Robin was both so feisty but yet so gentle and still when it allowed me to both capture and release it.

That is, I think a metaphor for our current times. A global pandemic has captured all of us and we are now in the process of our release.

Over the last few weeks, the visitations of my wee red breasted friend have been increasing – and the persistence has been hard to ignore. This last blessed week of annual leave has pretty much seen me followed every day. The remarkable bit of this is that this has happened both at my home but on a 2 day visit to Mum’s house, well over a hundred miles away.

Some interpretations of Robin visitations would have you think that a Robin flying into your house is a bad thing. That has not been my sense at all. In Native American symbolism, the Robin represents a sign of an Angel and that is always a heartening interpretation. Apparently there is even a meaning for a Robin tattoo. I’m absolutely not inspired to get one of those but I love the symbolism of Robin bringing new beginnings, spring and hope. In helping Mum sort through over 40 years of memories as we sell her house, this sense of new beginning resonates deeply.

The idea of Robin as a power animal includes the idea of Robin representing the connection between the earth and sky. In that last meaningful conversation with Dad I told him that whilst I would miss him, my personal view was that he was still going to be around, it was just he was going to a different place. Robin’s recent visitations have brought the sky (Dad) to me; and that has been deeply nurturing.

Like many, lockdowns have forced in me a review of the idea of place, particularly in the where and who I am connected to. They have also forced a deep think about the what I want to be connected to as well. Staggering acts of dedication, commitment, compassion, kindness and giving have characterised the very best of us. But sadly we’ve also seen staggering selfishness, denial, disinterest and exploitation. The contrast between the sky and our Angels and the earth never clearer.

In a speech delivered by at the Riverside Church in New York City on April 4th, 1967 Dr King said:

“We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history there is such a thing as being too late. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked and dejected with a lost opportunity”.

Dr King was talking about Vietnam in that speech, but I think you can make the case that the pandemic has wrought a global change that the majority of us have never envisaged. And I suspect for many of us, that fierce urgency of now is a fire burning anew. And on so many issues we can no longer contemplate being too late.

It’s always easier to amplify the crap, the absurd and the diminishing – the loose, foolish, misleading headline, the gossip and the slight. The over reaction and indulgence; the overwhelming and distracting ego. It’s not always easy to nurture the fire. Too much air and the fire destroys, too little and the fire whimpers. Just right and the fire thrives, it nourishes us and it sheds light. Light that shows us the path ahead.

As much as the Robin has been my companion this week, Jed Mercurio’s final words for Ted Hastings in the Line of Duty finale have been with me too. They have crashed around my head and heart and I haven’t been able to lose them. They’ve been the kick I think to encourage me to return to the blogging I loved in my former days with PPMA.

Our release from lockdown isn’t going to be a single event; nor is it going to be as easy as the headlines want it to be. We’re changed as a society, as organisations, as families and as humans. We needed to be. If our experience of the best of us during lockdowns is to mean anything, is to translate into sustained change, a more equitable, just, tolerant and listening society we will need to be resilient, focused, and dedicated.

We’ll need to be consistent in our daily efforts to contribute positively, to support the public service workers on their knees because of their efforts, the politicians (of all stripes) who have had to navigate terrifying decisions, the under represented in society, those for whom the pandemic has wrought unimaginable grief. We’re often hooked on a big solution I think, when the reality is that meaningful change is often delivered through the every day acts of the ordinary – the persistent, the tolerant, the loving, the kind, the wise and the repetition that we see in the best of us.

It’s a tall order. But I think Ted’s advice is spot on. If you are to do anything of meaning, with a heartfelt desire to contribute ……

You do it because you carry the fire.

…………………

For those of you interested in learning more about the symbolism of the Robin, this wonderful resource by Garth C. Clifford is a fabulous collation of the various traditions; and it is one of the inspirations behind this blog offering.

You can read the full text of Dr Martin Luther King Jr’s Riverside Speech here.

Your vulnerability is beyond your conscious capability…….

Whoomph.

That was a zinger. A well aimed and precisely landed zinger. Delivered with the clarity and wisdom of someone who has been there themselves.

It landed well. The zinger hasn’t stopped burrowing a hole in my consciousness since it landed.

The rabbit hole of vulnerability that I suspect I am about to venture into more deeply has me thinking about how we define vulnerability, conscious capability and what all those words mean together. And how our organisations support our being vulnerable and the assumptions and expectations people make when we are operating in our day to day roles.

All valid questions in these days of even more demands on organisations and our people. Certainly in public sector there is no let up in rising demands. It’s not without a good slug of self awareness that I know these questions are also a distraction from the experience of vulnerability. More on that later.

Saturday morning has been spent revisiting the humanity, humility, honesty, humour and courage of Brene Brown’s work. It doesn’t matter how many times I watch The power of vulnerability TEDTalk, I am endlessly struck by both the apparent simplicity and complexity of her work. In listening to audiences respond to her questions, it’s always blindingly obvious that people are going to say that they want their leaders to be authentic, more human, more vulnerable. But it is also apparent that people recognise that there is a risk to that – and the risk is the fear of being seen to be weak. Yet again the seen and the unseen embark on a dance that happens every day of our working and non working lives and often takes place without the accompanying music of awareness, transparency, compassion and acceptance.

The zinger has me thinking from a leadership and HR perspective about whether we really take into account vulnerability in the design of our organisations, in development programmes for our people? Or do those of us who recognise and champion Brene’s work and related practice, e.g., Psychological Safety, Civility Saves Lives, settle for less in our organisations. How far are we ready and able to go in promoting and championing the reality of vulnerability and the conditions we need to create to allow it to take root in our organisations?

Why should it matter you say? Well it’s the connections that Brene reminds us that vulnerability helps us weave:

“Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage”.

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change”.

My heart sings a loud yes to both of those observations. Of course the connections are obvious. But my head is struggling to remember the last time I meaningfully included such KPI’s in our workforce dashboards. Would I/we even know how we would define these measures beyond staff survey questions that we’re afraid to ask because we don’t have a response to the answers we’d get? Is the work that we’re doing in places to build effective teams able to take root and grow, or is this work destined to build as much frustration in the knowing what is possible but our organisations being way off in delivering the space for what’s possible to take hold? Are we brave enough to really listen to our people?

That gives me real pause for thought. It takes conscious effort when our organisations are in turbulent times, and at least in my experience when we are ourselves in a state of vulnerability, to remember those connections. And when we have too many priorities, not enough resource, a lack of clear leadership and common purpose we struggle more to create the conditions necessary for us to harness the courage we need to raise difficult issues; encourage the creative spark that will fire innovation and deliver change that is sustainable.

And then there is conscious capability. And it truth those are the words that resonated and not in a good way. I’m not entirely sure why yet. Perhaps it’s tiring of the often experienced challenge for HR & OD practitioners that we will be vulnerable and human, but we will always be on our game and there to pick up the pieces for alot of situations that could have been avoided without complaint.

But perhaps it’s a recognition that in the not being consciously capable there is the potential for mistakes, for pain, for struggle and no guarantees that things will be ok. I’ve looked all day for the reason as to why I can avoid vulnerability and why it’s not necessary. Surprise surprise. It’s not gone well. And the level of resistance I’ve had to the idea has me thinking logically that I need to throw myself into this wholeheartedly, and damn the mess.

‘Surrender’ (sounds really grown up and thoughtful – when in reality it’s facing the inevitable kicking and screaming) was finally accepted when I read today’s horoscope “Everything that’s vulnerable about you, that you try to hide away, can shine through as the moon and Venus meet. And learning to be more open can be the biggest stepping stone towards the future you most want”. Bollocks.

The cover imagery of Keifer Sutherland’s new series ‘Rabbit Hole’ came to my mind. The fall into vulnerability is essentially a journey that is confusing, has twists and turns, uncertainty and discomfort. But ultimately the hope is it will be a place for learning, for meeting myself and others in different ways, for making breakthroughs and envisioning a brave new world.

In other words a place for innovation, creativity and change.

…………………

Rabbit Hole is on Amazon Prime for Keifer fans.

Civility saves lives is an organisation that I have become deeply passionate about over the last five or so years. You can find out more here. I cannot recommend the learning and amazing people involved enough.

Amy Edmonson’s The Fearless Organization: Creating Psychological Safety in the Workplace for Learning, Innovation, and Growth is a must read too.

Whilst I love The power of vulnerability, in truth I love Listening to shame more. It’s a profoundly moving exploration of a fundamental part of being human.