Tag: authenticity

Same change

Season 1 Disc 1. By the time you read this (if I’m that lucky!) I will have had my breakfast with the IAP2 group. The topic is authentic leadership and I know that most of the people who are coming along have had to deal with a lot of change over the last year or so. I sometimes use a photograph of a major motorway under construction and for a bit of fun, get the people present to see if they can identify it. Then later, I show a photograph of another motorway under construction. It’s odd, because it looks familiar but not quite right. Actually it’s the same motorway, first construction 45 years ago and then the reconstruction, right now.

my-pohutukawa-becoming-variegated-or-maybe-becoming-not-variegated.jpg
My Pohutukawa going through change – either becoming variegated or not variegated. Time will tell.

I’m revisiting the first few episodes of Seinfeld in preparation for the presentation in the morning (good thing they won’t read this first!). The most successful television series of all time and watching the first disc after quite a few years it certainly appears to be the show about nothing. Or is it?  They look a little younger, the set is dated, the humour is slightly more obvious. There’s constant change to be dealt with from an endless pit of shallow human interaction you might think, somewhat cynically. They are stories though.

I’ve a feeling that in the morning we’ll have some stories about change – some that hurt, some that’s exciting and some grudgingly accepted. We can learn a lot from the change that we’ve had in the past. That’s not exactly new of course although we can easily overlook past experiences in dealing with the current change.

So how to tap into the change learnings from the past that might be buried? Think about where you go for your authenticity stories? What’s your Season 1 Disc 1? The more you practice your authentic stories with your teams, the more change you will uncover further and further back, that  is the same as what you’ve got going on now.

We’ll be there in the morning. Happening right now if you’re reading this first thing.

Stephen

True Colours

My friends from Melbourne have gone, leaving as they always do, a selection of olives, cheeses, sun dried tomatoes, cold meats and other delectable items which I’ve turned into a colourful, tasty and nutritious meal to suit me right now.  It’s a rainy evening, this Equinox, and I’m cosy after a 26km run and shower. Comfortable.

This boy unknown to me at the Grey Lynn Festival in November seemed very proud of his new colours!

Speaking of running, we had two marathon Seinfeld sessions and I’m continuing tonight solo. Jerry and Kramer have just run into someone who called Jerry a phoney five years ago. “Is Jerry still mad at me for the phoney comment?”. “Oh no” said Kramer “it’s water near a bridge!”.  “Maybe I’ll see you in another five years”, said Jerry.

At the risk of showing your true colours sometimes you feel the need to say something that has the potential to cause injury. In your own language, the truth might hurt. In the recipient’s eyes, you’re showing unpleasant, but true colours.

Last week I ran a great workshop on story telling (well I thought is was great anyway!). As you might expect I started with a story. The story started with the events of 22 February 2011 with my son Thomas and Dad in Christchurch. And somehow I went to a classic photograph of my parents in 1952 in Queen Street, taken by a roving street photographer and restored by me for their 55th wedding anniversary (actually the credit for the restoration goes to my talented former assistant Ivana Dimovski). The photograph stirs deep thoughts in me, of a young couple in love and makes me reflect back over the 48 years or so that my DNA has been part of that union. And because it means that much I like to be clear.  So in the weekend I had a ‘showing my true colours’  moment, because something challenged my values that I didn’t think had been properly dealt with.

So this blog is written I admit with a slightly bruised feeling – I’m the one that’s done the bruising – and I don’t feel flash for doing it. Funny how you can bruise yourself when showing your true colours. And I forgot the power of the story for a moment – I did the telling bit, but not the story with all it’s grit, love, rights, wrongs and meaning. And without doubt I made somethings that were actually good, not good, to justify my sense of wrong.

The story of life is gritty and true colour moments come and go.  With those that really matter they are building blocks to greater meaning. Nice words, probably true, but I need to tell myself, easy fella, make sure I don’t do more harm than good in my truth moments. And remind myself that the buttons that get pushed – mine is usually around transparency when the water is still near the bridge – are my buttons, not everyone elses.

And the couple in the photograph in 1952 are just the best parents you could ever ask for and if you don’t know that about someone special in your life, maybe you’re afraid of the true colour moment, maybe you never recovered from a true colour moment, maybe the water is near the bridge and you haven’t had the courage to let it flow. Whatever the reason don’t wait for the next Equinox to realise that it’s time to sort it. And don’t save up some crap until the next Equinox either.

I recently wrote about a cousins barbecue at the memory-filled Stanmore Bay where most of us there shared some DNA.  But remember, your DNA only lasts for so long.

Stephen

Don’t stop me now!

So is the title of the Queen song. Inspired by the New Zealand movie Love Birds which made me laugh and cry at the same time I’ve had a serious and sudden desire to listen to all things Queen. No, not the head of state but the Freddie Mercury one. Doug, played by Rhys Darby gets dumped by his long-time girlfriend ‘cos he’s too boring. A fanatic of Queen, the movie features lots of Queen and great shots of an Auckland you’d be proud to call home.

Yesterday, I helped a group of Masters students get ready for a presentation today. Everyone is winding them up – the client, themselves, the other groups – and it seemed that their 20 minutes of fame followed by 5 minutes of Q&A was an Everest event. Practicing the words, understanding the jargon, suggestions to drug one of the panelists by their helpful lecturer all combined to raise anxiety. Actually they’re quite confident sounding so I coached them around being themselves, not reading stuff out (we can do that ourselves you know!) and making a stand: What actually are you recommending? (a surprisingly common oversight).

Yesterday at a senior management meeting someone forgot what they wanted to say “well I can’t say it now can I!” or something, he said. Exactly. So what? We laughed and realised our own imperfections. Yes we’ve all forgotten something we really thought we wanted to say, or do. Damn, forgot to make a recommendation on what we were asked!

Can you forget to be yourself? Yes, it seems, and usually by people who aren’t. Advice advice advice about this, that, tactics, long winded rants about what you NEED to do, all by people who are supposedly leading groups to grow.

Actually they’ve probably got no idea about what the motives and preferences of the people being presented to are – just throw out some stuff to them, say lots of technical stuff, get ready to wiz them with technical jargon, make sure you stand tall and confident. Practice the words and get them right.

What a load of shit.  Be yourself, engage from what you know – if someone advising you about a presentation doesn’t have anything insightful to say about the people you’re talking to, find someone else to help you. And if you can’t, who cares, trust yourself. What’s the worst thing that can happen? People will see the real you in all your frailties and with any sort of luck, you’ll forget something you meant to say. And then you’ll have ’em.

Once you’re going then you’re unstoppable.

Don’t stop me now!

Stephen

Truth

A simple concept, often used in troubling ways. I’ve just come back from the movie Fair Game, based on actual events which gave rise to the American invasion and war in Iraq. A simple phrase used by President George W Bush described as a fact that the Iraqis had purchased uranium from Niger. This was to support the proposition, now discredited, that the Iraqis were building a nuclear bomb.  Joe Wilson, a former Ambassador played by Sean Penn knew this to be a lie – not just something that wasn’t supported – but something that enquires had established didn’t happen. So what do to?

Amy Gallo in her ‘When you think the strategy is wrong’ lists three things to do before disagreeing:

  • Understand the big picture – use your networks to understand the political complexities and assumptions used
  • contextualise your concerns – what is it about me that gives me some concern? What am I feeling?
  • Ask others for input – look to your peers and others. Explain your concerns and get other’s perspectives

These events are tragic. Countless dead and I doubt the world is any safer now than it was 10 years ago. It seems trivial to say that getting as close to the truth as you can before starting a war, might be a good idea. And if you know that one has or is about to be started based on a lie, how far do you go? Especially if those you need to confront include some of the most powerful men on the planet.

Earlier this week as I was driving into my local cafe (well the carpark) a van being driven enthusiastically with some urgency drove out: Chinese Christian Truth Church  read the signage on the side.

In a leadership role dealing with the complexities of human behaviour, change and differing mental models makes dealing with the truth, well, not really the point.

Keeping your "truth" speeches in the right place

How a team is put together, performs, strategises, implements, deals with adversity are not simple right-wrong propositions. But if there is a truth: something indisputable, the results, the findings, especially if it’s simply communicated, it can be really important for leaders to express it. And that might mean expressing both up and down something quite unpalatable.

I feel a twinge of fundamentalism when I hear someone express their views as the truth. Occasionally it has a more Monty Pythonesque feel about it, like the van, but we need to take some care. Honest we must be, but pushing forward that your honesty is in fact the truth should be saved for mission critical moments. 

Strange thought really: be honest, but spare the truth talks. Like Joe Wilson did, when it mattered. John Lennon’s Imagine played soothingly on the drive home. Beautiful song. Now that is the truth!