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What kind of water is this like? A simple practice for noticing awareness

A very thin sheet of ice over a shallow body of salt water. Nearer to shore, the ice breaks and one can see the rocks at the bottom of the water.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

A momentary observation for seeing the quality of your experience without, hopefully, worrying too much about how or why.

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Podcast episode 0042: What kind of water is this like?
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You know I love simple practices. This is one of the simplest, coursing down the centuries since, at least, these discourses in the Pāli Canon where the Buddha is in conversation with a guy called Saṅgārava. Now Saṅgārava seems to have been a stand-in or container for various questions and metaphors about water.

You might be thinking of that cliche about ‘mind like water’. Sure, but let’s ask: what kind of water, and in what way? Water as it changes in time and place and circumstance is an example of something that is always becoming otherwise. It has this in common with you, and me, and everything around us, and in us.

So the practice, as I’ve learned it from two different teachers at two different times, is this. Take a moment and notice your own awareness. What kind of water is this like? Perhaps still, or flowing, or murky, or raging, or a turbid estuary, a snowflake or an ice sheet, or overgrown with algae, or a trickle in a dried-up stream.

As you do this, there is no need to adjust, to evaluate, to search for reasons or explanations or blame. It is a practice of noticing, and noticing only—a chance to recall or identify one sensation that is most similar to another. Some qualities are more pleasant or useful than others. And whatever it is now, it will soon be otherwise.

Five contributions to a project: money, effort, attention, memory & wisdom

A line of trees alongside a lake shore on an overcast day.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

Following on Jerry Weinberg’s point that ‘the money is usually the smallest part of the price,’ what other prices are to be paid, and how should a consultant approach these contributions?

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0045: Five contributions to a project
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In a recent discussion amongst independents and consultants on pricing, I was reminded of this quote from Jerry Weinberg, one of his ‘laws of pricing’ for consultants:

The money is usually the smallest part of the price.

I see five contributions to successful consulting projects: money, effort, attention, memory, and wisdom. You’re going to need each of these to pull any nontrivial project off.

Knowing this, you are equipped to notice that a broad set of people might end up making these contributions. Not all of them will know or care about your work in advance. They may not even be associated with the organization that is hiring you.

Your direct client will put in a lot of effort and attention. But they may have a boss or sponsor who directly or indirectly approves the budget, and someone else might actually pay the money. Effort will come from many other people too: everybody you bring into a meeting or workshop, for starters. Spending time, paying attention. See these words we use?

Memory and wisdom are squishier. Some people know what’s what, what has happened, and how things got into the mess they’re in today. If you can find these people and learn from them, that is their contribution. Wisdom is sometimes embodied in memory, sometimes not. However you find it (hint: listen for the undiscussables), wisdom is the greatest gift of all.

My suggestion is this: consultants should attend to each of these contributions with the same level of care as they would pricing. I think a lot of us do this instinctively. But it’s good to do it deliberately, and to draw a picture as we go. In the same way we’d justify a monetary price by showing what we’ll give in return and why that’s important, we can justify each of these other contributions to the individuals and groups making them, and receive them with gratitude.

Remembering Christopher Alexander: love even for the smallest pebble

A stone walking path going up a gentle incline with winter foliage surrounding.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

Two passages from the architect and writer on the fourth anniversary of his passing.

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Podcast episode 0039: Remembering Christopher Alexander
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Christopher Alexander, architect, passed away four years ago today. He was a direct influence on several of my teachers, mentors, and friends, although I knew him mostly as a warm writer of challenging ideas. The independent consulting company I ran for a decade was called ‘Different Chairs’ after a passage he cowrote.

First, let’s enjoy the crispness of Alexander’s writing. Here’s a passage from his first book, Community and Privacy, coauthored with Serge Chermayeff, published 1963:

People want to be everywhere. The reason they moved out was to find the country and escape the disadvantages of the city. The reason they are moving back is that the country is no longer there and they would like to regain the advantages of the city. But when everything is everywhere, wherever you go there is nothing tangible to find.

Second, we dwell in the inviting and clarifying nature of his work. This passage is from the concluding pages of his last book, The Battle for the Life and Beauty of the Earth, with Hans Joachim Neis and Maggie Moore Alexander, published 2012:

Again and again we are confronted daily by decisions, by the question, “What should I do, what path should I take, how should I approach this problem?”

There is no human being who does not, in some form, encounter this kind of self-doubt. Every one of us needs help or guidance in doing the best possible thing, in so far as what is available and practical, on the day when you encounter this question, in yourself.

Gandhi-ji, Christ, the Buddha, Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma, and the man down the street at the gas station. They did it for love. I can do it for love. Any one of us can do it because of love, and because love is simple and so powerful.

Love itself! Not love for this person or that person—but love for a small spider who has fallen into a tin can, love for the field which nourishes, and the individual grasses that sway as the breeze comes gently across.

The ecology of humankind is created by the fabric of buildings, by the human fabric of affection, and by the powerful force of our love for our Earth—love, even for the smallest pebble.

Try to be aware, every waking day and every minute, of the love that lies in your heart. The most tender wakefulness lies in your heart, and gives you the only realistic picture of the world. It can give you access to the ultimate reality. At every moment, remain wakeful and aware of your love for the Earth and for the Universe around you.

I showed up to some consulting work this morning befuddled, tired, and uncertain of which of several alternatives—all equally irritating—to pursue next. This inside the universal local/global backdrop of loss, confusion, and cruelty. Remembering Christopher Alexander’s answer to ‘what should I do?’ has helped me a hundred times over across the years, including today, right now. Maybe it will help you, too.

Thanks, Christopher.

Podcast episode No. 0036: Anecdote of Carlina

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0036: Anecdote of Carlina
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A reading of two short passages, one from The Art of Public Speaking, by John Rippingham (1814), and the other from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s ‘The Comic’ (1875). By way of Wikipedia on the ‘sad clown paradox’ as shared on Mastodon by John Overholt.

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