So begins my first series; ten thought pieces, dedicated to the ten components of Nancy Kline’s Thinking Environment; the optimum environment for independent thinking. It’s not the first time I’ve touched on this philosophy, but I’m hungry to think and write more on these components, since each is an absolute treasure trove of ideas.
Before we get to grips with the first component, attention, let’s start with an appreciation of the core premise behind the Thinking Environment:
The quality of everything we do depends on the quality of thinking we do first.
So, whether you’re interested in improving productivity or well-being in your work environment, or whether it’s about how you interact with friends and family, to your broader philosophy on life and how to live it; it all comes down to the quality of your thinking. Too often, groups focus on learning skills, knowledge and new ways of doing, without consideration of the ‘being’ quality that forms the foundation for it all; our thinking. That’s why I’m dedicating my next ten thought pieces to exactly that; ten ways of being with others that enables them to think at their best. I’m more than just a little enamoured with the ten components of a thinking environment, and I’m quietly confident that, after the next ten ‘G & Biscuits’, you will be too. Just fifty minutes of your time to reframe almost everything you do in life. Bargain!
Behind the ten components is a single ethos. A promise not to interrupt, because interruptions are exactly what we need to avoid, breaking the flow of thinking, be it our own or another’s. The promise is beautiful in its simplicity, yet glorious in its complexity, and I’m hopeful that we’ll return to the subject of interruption in its many guises at the end of this series. Before we talk about attention, we need to talk about what Nancy Kline describes as ‘The Positive Philosophical Choice’. Ironically, it could prove quite a distraction from the subject of attention, and I can feel myself promising to come back to this one too, but for the moment let’s keep this mammoth concept as brief and contained as possible.
The Positive Philosophical Choice is our choice to believe that, fundamentally, all human beings are born good. Any behaviour to the contrary throughout their lives is the result of untrue assumptions generated over a lifetime, caveated by a number of neurological conditions we’re only really just starting to truly understand at a biological level. Actually, I struggled with this. Not because I disagree with the fundamental premise. I do make this choice, and believing it as opposed to believing I’m born evil (whatever evil is) or a blank canvas, feels invigorating and liberating; a bit like choosing to believe that life is a gift, rather than a curse. No, the further caveat comes from immediately assuming off the back of this choice that there is some kind of associated duty to others. Personally, I feel the need to add that, even if I could, it is not my responsibility to help others realise that change in themselves, nor my dutiful endeavour. I will at least admit to wishing that realisation for others, as much as I wish it for myself in those moments when behaviours (others and my own) challenge the principle at its core. Nevertheless, that is my choice and my journey, and I am not here to preach or convert. Regardless, the philosophical stance at the outset acts as a powerful amplifier for all the components. Why is that? My interpretation is that this positive philosophical choice places trust and belief in the thinker at the outset, before the conversation has even begun, and that’s both powerful and life-affirming. A more neutral position loses that affirmation or encouragement (we shall come to that component some time mid April). As for cynics, I fear they may be too preoccupied with questioning the ethics of the thinker in front of them, perhaps wanting to redirect them, and in so doing, they have already undermined the thinkers independent thinking before they have begun.
See, it’s already happened. Sucked into the abyss of ‘good and evil’. My apologies. I’m nearly ready to focus in on attention, but first, I need a lens. It’s such a huge subject, that without some focus, I fear I may lose you, or myself for that matter. The lens I’d like to offer then, is one of compassion for what I recognise is a fast-paced, adrenaline-fueled, anxiety-ridden reality for most people; the workplace. More than anyone, this thought piece is for you, and before I start to extol the virtues of pure generative attention without interruption, I need you to know that this is not an absolute proposal. You do not need to become Buddha-like in your attentive presence to benefit. Any movement of the needle is a positive step, and every single positive step is wholeheartedly welcome.
Nancy Kline defines the component of attention as follows;
“Listening without interruption, and with interest in where the person will go next.”
Now, be honest with yourself. When was the last time you remember listening to someone, and all that occupied you was interest in where their thoughts might take them? If you can recall that moment, and you were truly raptured, then ask yourself this; was your attention entirely on what was being said, or was your mind judging what was being said. Placing ourselves back in the workplace, we’re almost certainly mentally concocting a response to what’s being said, searching for the opportunity to interject. Rarely is the workplace such a psychologically safe place that we’re not consumed with trying to understand and manage other people’s agendas, attempting to get our voices heard, and with others attempting to do likewise. Expectations rife, some real, some just assumed, we’re primed to constantly attempt to live up to them, or prove them wrong, searching for opportunities in meetings to do so, amidst a host of other anxieties. I haven’t even touched on the deliberate decision to interrupt as some form of powerplay. If that’s your game, I’m not sure this article is for you, though if it is, I wonder why you’re really choosing to do it. What insecurities could be driving that behaviour?
Casting my mind back to my article on Brand Love, I talked to Bungay Stanier’s TERA model and the four anxieties constantly wracking our minds:
Tribe; are you with me or against me?
Expectancy; do I know what’s about to happen, or not?
Rank; are you more or less important than me?
Autonomy; am I in control, or am I being manipulated?
As the theory espouses, our minds are consumed by at least one of these concerns every four seconds or less. We’d be excused then, or excuse ourselves I hope, if throughout a conversation at work, our minds waver a little, or even a lot, as these questions run amok. This is where compassion steps in for me. It’s human nature to want to make sense of things, and it’s a social norm to want to fit in, and we do so on the basis of what we’ve experienced in life to date. It’s literally how we’re programmed to work - to fact check against our reality - and it’s all-consuming. But what if you were to replace these anxieties, as much as you’re able, with something else; absolute intrigue in where their thinking might take them and a promise to not interrupt. Casting your mind back to whichever work moment you were imagining before, how different might things have been if you or the person you were engaging with had said at the start, “I’m going to promise to not interrupt you, and work really hard on paying attention to everything you’re saying with zero judgement whilst you think.” Place yourself there now; it feels different, doesn’t it?
For me, development reviews offered moments where I got closest to this kind of thinking at work. I recall actively choosing, and encouraging others to choose, to really be present in development reviews and interviews, but I’d be fooling myself if I thought they went a minute without judgement and prejudice. Still, I really did try to listen, and I really did want to get a sense of where they were coming from and where they were going.
The first time I experienced managing to offer truly generative attention - the kind of attention that makes a mind spark - I akined it to meditation. In meditation, we’re taught initially to use the breath as a point of focus. When thoughts enter our mind, we are supposed to note them without judgement, hold them lightly and then return to the breath. A beautifully simple concept that takes a lifetime to master. That’s how it felt with this kind of pure attention, only the focal point was not the breath, but someone else’s words (a mere fragment of what they’re actually thinking, but at least what their mind chose to emphasise in that moment). Judgements and solutions enter your mind - ideas on what they should do, what you would do if you were them, and so much more - and that’s fine. Note them, and then return to that sense of pure interest in where they will go next. The practice of generative attention is incredibly similar to meditation, only with more than one person, and arguably more giving - and what a gift! How does it feel on the other side? This kind of generative attention is described as ‘listening to ignite’ rather than listening to respond, and that’s exactly how it feels. I felt sparks flying. I felt incredibly lucky, inspired and filled with energy; a period of fresh thinking with a number of ‘aha!’ moments, not dissimilar to the ones I sometimes have in the shower, first thing in the morning.
The practice of generative attention is incredibly similar to meditation, only with more than one person
Back to that compassion lens, and aiming just to move the needle. Off the back of a discussion with my wife about multitasking, I did a little digging around attention. It’s the age old trope about how men are incapable of multitasking, and I was bought in - I certainly can’t! But it turns out no one can really, so you can stop beating yourself up. The human brain isn’t designed this way. At best, some actions can become automatic, and operate in the background, but otherwise, our true attention can only be in one place at a time. Our minds are aware of other elements, and biases draw us to zone in on one or another, but only one thing is getting our focussed attention. So, subconsciously we’re aware of many things, but we’re actually paying attention to just one. In the scenario of bad TV in the background and emails on the phone, the truth is only one of these distractions is getting attention at any given moment (and I fear that quite often, that probably isn’t the emails).
The question we ought to ask ourselves then, is who or what deserves that attention? Whilst the sense-making is going on in our minds, we're not paying attention (though we are aware) to what is being said, and that’s OK. That’s human. But like meditation, and consequently without judgement, the more we practice, the better we’ll get at noticing our own sense-making interrupting us, and swiftly return our attention to the thinker. It’s a life-long journey, but the rewards start immediately, and then grow infinitely.
And finally, as a gesture of humility, I’m keen to share my biggest fear, which is still rife in my mind as I endeavour to offer truly generative attention, without interruption, in the hope that I can ‘listen to ignite’. The thing is, sometimes in the middle of their thinking, I feel like I’ve got the best idea. A moment of pure genius, and if I don’t blurt it out, or pause to write it down, it’ll go missing. But writing or blurting would cease the giving of attention!
This feels like another positive philosophical choice, but one directed at me, and arguably a lot harder because of the urge to share. If you want to do justice to the thinking of others, but equally respect your own great thinking, you have to believe that your excellent mind will recall whatever truly matters, when it truly matters. I can’t yet tell you if this is true. I don’t know which of the ideas that I’ve had mid-flow of someone else’s thinking were valuable, yet forgotten. I can’t remember the buggers! But, of course if I did interrupt with my moment of genius, what magical thinking could I be stopping in the mind of the other party?
Which rather nicely brings me to the next component - Equality. Who’s to say that my thinking is better than yours, or yours better than mine. I hope you’ll join me on that journey.
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