Category: growth

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Workshops, & Territories, & Ideas

Did some strategy things. Worked with a client group to get them to really think about what they do and why. Pushed some buttons that made them uncomfortable (in a nice way) and that really got them woken up to the idea that they can’t sleepwalk their way to growth. Went well.

Part of the work was looking at broad territories that we could explore together. I always do three. One is safe. It’s now. One is a little bit scary, a nudge towards an (I think) obvious future. And one is there to make them super concerned that they don’t have the aspiration or the actual chops to do. Except they do. And they could easily do it with the right tools, the right coaching and the right foundations. They went with that! Rarely happens, but they were visibly excited to just embrace the change. They know it won’t be easy but they don’t want to stand still while the rest of their sector moves on. They don’t want to be the losers. Yes, there is ai involved. Not the usual nonsense grift but good ideas around ML and pattern matching and insight sifting. Nothing new but presented in a way that sounds new.

Today I have given things a real focus. I’m working on giving it clarity. Tomorrow will refine my thinking. Wednesday will be about building out the tools they need to execute this strategy, and set out the pathways they can take. Next week it’ll be brought to life properly. I’ll even do some marketing work for them so they can take the ideas to their customers. The ones they have. The ones they want to have. Test and learn. Some (hopefully) minor refinements and then done. Invoice and move on.

Looking forward to what’s next.

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It’s not me, it’s you

Someone wrote to me on a certain professional social media to say they’d read something I’d written and that they recalled me as being ‘cantankerous’ at a job we worked together at some 25 years ago.

I felt a little flummoxed by that comment. A little put out. Perhaps I was.

Then I thought about why I was. Maybe it was them that had made me a little bristling? In fact, they admitted they weren’t very good at the job they’d been employed to do. So, why was it that I was the problem they’d identified?

The more I thought about it, the more I sit with the notion that your reality is a reflection of your own behaviour within it, this was as much about them and their abilities as it was about my reaction to it.

So, yeah, I probably was cantankerous. But they were fucking shit at their job and I felt the sharp end of that.

While I’m still not pleased with their choice of word to describe me, I’m also okay with knowing that I’m good at what I do (or did) and there are far more inadequate people in roles they are unsuited for that deserve someone being cantankerous. Or, doing what is necessary and pointing their failing out.

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A Step Into The Past

I’ve just come off an hour-long call with some academics where we dicussed a paper they’d written that will now go forward to an online ‘Journal Club’ where people who are not academics, but have studied the subject, get together to critically discuss this paper.

What’s refreshing is that these academics (all women, I should say, which may or may not play a part in their response) are open to learning through reflection. In my career (lol) world the idea of reflecting and being reflexive is almost frowned upon. You’re just on to the next thing.

When I started blogging back in the early 2000s, I used it as a way to get feedback. Later, perhaps between 2009 and 2016, I used it as a way to think out loud. Even later, I used it as a way to reflect, although that was mostly in the early 2020s. Finally, as I learned more about myself and my way of working I used it to do all three, sometimes in the same blog post.

Now, I’m starting to do that again after a fair while of simply thinking out loud, or just shouting for no reason.

Looking back over the two decades or more of blog posts (they’re all available online) I see that the frequency of reflexive and reflecting posts increases around the same time, which is when I started to work for myself and beginning to try and understand what it was that was doing, or attempting to do. Some of those posts are still valid and useful – in some ways more so.

For being seen as a fleeting medaia, the internet offers a quite solid medium in which to express ourselves. And perhaps we should spend time looking back and instead of using older ideas as a method of cancelling, we use it as a way to consider the journey we’ve been on. (I’m not including the obvious racist, misogynistic or outright vile things people say and have said, but just your everyday observations based on what you knew at the time).

I wonder if we don’t throw out questions now which we can only answer later because we’re scared of it coming back to haunt us. That golden age of blogging where people knew they didn’t know but wrote things anyway in order to get more perspectives.

So, yeah. I have been talking about Systems literacy and it’s made me really think about not only what I’m doing when I write into this text field and click ‘publish’ but also what I could be doing with the output. The thing I wanted to do, yet have not quite done: to reflect.

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Carry On Regardless

Not a comedy film from the post-war British film franchise, but some thoughts about projects and when it might be time to call a day. This applies as much to my own personal projects as it does freelance/contracting stints.

I’m currently waiting for a project to get going having stalled somewhat due to what I would term ‘client reticence’. My feeling is the client knows what they’re offering and therefore they don’t need to go through the preliminary strategic work to determine how they take it to market. I could be wrong, but that’s my takeaway from the email conversations I get to see.

It’s a tiny bit off for them to make such an assumption – both for me and also for their current and prospective customers. It’s also telling that the thing they’re wanting to bring to market does not yet exist, and nor do they have customers queuing up to buy this service. That’s not to say it isn’t amazing or perfect for the market, etc. It’s the state of play.

When do you walk away, having already invested a great deal of time and effort?

The second project is my own. Unspun Heroes.

It’s faltering a little. It’s incredibly time consuming and it takes a long time for the financial side of things to stack up. So, when the next release has clauses from the rights owner that shortens the time available to sell a given number of records, adds in costs that could be handled differently – all while you’re still selling the last of the stock from the previous releases… well, there are times when the easy decision is to throw in the towel and move on.

However, as money is not the motivator, it’s hard to make that decision to stop. It doesn’t feel right. There’s definitely something there, with willing customers and a lot of love, but the risk/reward has shifted more towards the risk and farther away from the reward (beyond the joy of playing the record once it’s pressed).

As with all these things, there is often a way through. The easy option is not always the right one. In the first instance above, someone else will likely make a decision that I’ll adhere to; in the second instance, some creative thinking is needed and some test-and-learn principles applied. If, after that, it doesn’t stack up, then it will be mothballed as a physical product project and shift into a simple blog/newsletter project. I’m still convinced that at some point I’ll be able to resurrect the physical product side of things, even if it means saving some money to do it.

What both of these situations have shown me is that failure is what happens in other people’s eyes. I know I’ve done some amazing work on both, and had a lot of successes (small ones, but successes all the same). There is a chance to renergise, to recoup some losses by shifting how I make the gains. That could be creating momentum with the client on what their vision is and then looping back to start some of the strategy process afterwards once they see why it’s needed. That could be pulling together enough people to put up some funds to make the pressing happen and using that to offset the risk – and finding a way to do it without anyone losing money, or at least the fear of it.

Ultimately, I think acting creatively and thinking creatively will win out. Even if the final verdict is to stop and walk away. It’s just that doing that without some form of exploration is as much a failure as continuing when it’s clearly not working out as intended.

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Hard things look easy and simple things are complex

When I started Unspun Heroes I thought the most difficult part would be finding artists and bands willing to let me take their music and press it into bio-plastic discs. Turns out, that’s quite easy to get sorted. It’s definitely a binary thing: yes you can, no you can’t.

I thought handling all the manufacturing and design myself, across multiple suppliers, might also be difficult. However, that’s just about getting a process organised and managing it as things move forward.

Fulfilment always seemed like a nightmare. And it is. Above a certain limit it’s not easy to do yourself. I found this out when I agreed to ship albums and CDs on behalf of another indie label. Getting 1000+ products out to people around the world was quite the task. I made three mistakes, although the customer feedback each time was as if I’d demolished their house, stolen their life savings and killed their cat. Ultimately, on each occasion all I’d done is send them a tracking code earlier than expected. Michael is a popular name in the vinyl-buying demographic.

Turns out the hardest bit of selling product. Not only do I need to convince people they need this album which will likely be a little more expensive than, say, a band who sell hundreds of thousands of records, I also have to factor in postage. Let me tell you, postal costs are enormous!

I met someone at a record industry event and they asked me what I thought was the thing I didn’t think about enough that turned out to be the most important. I replied: go-to-market strategy. Not having a clear strategy in place to begin with stymied my ability to sell albums. It still does, despite me getting better at it and with a clearer proposition.

However, when I think about what I’ve learned between album one and soon-to-be organised album six, I can see how far I’ve come. Whether I’ll get to reach a critical mass that means sales come to me more often rather than me going to the market all the time remains to be seen.

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Not interested, thanks

I’ve always liked the phrase ‘zero fucks to give’. It’s final. There’s no opening for discussion and negotiation. This year, I’ve decided to apply this snappy phrase to what other people think. It’s not about growing a thicker skin – critical analysis of one’s self is important, and if someone else can help you with that then that is welcomed. This is about ignoring the haters, those who seek to undermine or turn me away from doing what I want to do, and generally not getting on board with the whole ‘this is how you should be doing things’ brigade that breeds ‘best practice’ blandness and strict routines.

Nowhere is this more important to me than here. What I write here is, for the most part for me. I’m not seeking an audience. If I were I’d start a newsletter. Blogging is – aside from fodder for the AI techbros’ machine learning programs – there for me to think things through, to explore, to get stuff out of my head.

I’m using it like ‘morning pages’ (which comes from Julia Cameron’s ‘The Artist’s Way’) to throw out words and not think too hard about them. Unless… unless they spark something that feels worthwhile to follow up on. I want to break the barriers I’ve put up in the past few years, to free up parts of my brain that I have neglected.

Yesterday, as I mentioned in my previous post, I had a meeting where I had a discussion about my process. Someone I’ve worked with a little bit was telling me how interesting they found my methods for engaging with a situation, the questions I pose, how much I listen before I talk, etc. It reminded me of when I was thinking about the ‘How of Work’ stuff from my Formation London days. They mentioned that I did things in a way they’d not seen before, that it was less rigid and more in tune with whatever was required of the challenge in front of me.

In the past, others have said this is a negative of how I work, that I should have a repeatable process. Now, someone was objectively being positive about not having rigidity. At least to begin with.

And so I am not listening to the commentary. Or reading the comments. I’m just doing what I need to do for myself. I’m giving zero fucks, for the time being at least. Because this isn’t written for other people, it’s a tool to get me somewhere else.

You know what? I already feel more confident in my own abilities. I feel lighter. I feel like I want to start doing some things again. Some of the things that I used to do – the silly things, the how-does-this-work experimental things.

I want to fail more again, or not be swayed by success (or perceived success). I want to find my own path once more in the creative aspects of my life. To not be constrained by a prompting machine, or a client brief, or what other people think.

I’ll be happier for it, I reckon.

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Reflections on an MSc in Systems Thinking in Practice

I’m not sure what it was that I expected. How it’s actually turned out is probably not what I would have said in October 2019 when I first put out the idea that I’d start an MSc.

Last month, December 2023, I got my final result for a year-long research module. The module was the culmination of three-and-a-half years of study. Yes, I’d taken a few breaks here and there, as dates didn’t match up, but it was fairly solid study during that time.

There are many things to reflect upon. Some of this is to do with the ‘content’ of my study; some is to do with the way in which the study was conducted; much of it is about my own personal journey. All of these things are interconnected, which is great as my MSc subject was Systems Thinking in Practice, which encompasses the interconnectedness of everything in a bounded situation, and how we choose to engage with that situation as well as the improvements we might make along the way. It’s also about how and what we learn as we engage with a situation.

What took me by surprise was that I had to learn why I learned what I was learning. I hadn’t bargained on this level of reflection. Nor had I considered how important it would be.

What I was learning
Systems Thinking is a term that describes the discipline of understanding and interacting with complex, interrelated ‘things’, often intractable issues for which there is no simple solution. Contrary to its name, it is not about technology in the sense of software and hardware. It’s actually, quite a lot, about people. However, it brings together some principles of economics, engineering, philosophy, sociology, and organisational design.

Again, I thought it was going to be fairly constrained in what it taught, but I’d not taken into account the ‘in Practice’ part of the MSc. This was about learning the theory of cybernetics and Systems Thinking and applying it to, often, live situations I was experiencing.

Of course, I came away with tools, frameworks, and models – and ways to use them – that continue to prove useful in a multitude of situations.

Mostly, though, I learned about learning. And about myself. I’m not sure if this is just the process of post-grad study (or any study) as it’s been a while since I undertook anything so formal in terms of learning. Doing the course changed me in ways that I could not have comprehended at the outset. It enabled me to ask better questions of myself, of the work I was doing, of the reason behind decisions being taken and the direction the work was headed.

Learning
One of the principles of the MSc was to think about second and third-order effects, which often meant thinking about what I was learning while learning it, and thinking about how I was learning while thinking about what I was learning while learning it. To observe myself as objectively as possible while learning. It was as hard as it sounds; however, once I’d got a handle on this – mostly through blogging, which the academic world calls ‘journaling’ – I found the process of learning deepened in ways that I hadn’t anticipated.

I could really see where I needed to pay attention – really see it. I could stop myself jumping to conclusions and to critically evaluate decisions before they were taken. I could work faster, too, which was counter-intuitive. Why? About part-way through a research project about maps and learning, I realised that I wasn’t just thinking systemically, I was behaving systemically. I was systemic. It was a shift that I needed to make to take on the final year-long research project.

Rigour
I don’t think I was necessarily slap-dash before. What I did was determine a starting point and move from there. The thinking systemically stopped all that. I had to make a proper decision about where to start. That may sound terribly time consuming, but it’s a bit like planning to move before you move, to consider a number of possibilities before you start out on the journey. Another counter-intuitive outcome was that this opened up more opportunities as well as making it easier to discount some possibilities simply by thinking in a more systemic and critical way.

It ultimately meant that I started from the right point rather than tracing my path towards that starting point and having to rush, or missing things until it was too late. It gave me a lot of questions to answer, and a lot of answers to share and discuss, or simply to contemplate on the daily dog walks. It opened my thinking up, and by thinking more I got faster at it. I like to think I got better, but that’s subjective.

I learned how to learn properly. Not just academically, but how to take in large swathes of information and manufacture knowledge from it. This could then be used to gather more information, test theories and hypotheses, to find arguments that would stand up to scrutiny (or not, which was just as important), and to allow me to justify my decisions in ways that could be communicated easily.

Language
I’ve always written. For years. I love words and how they can be put together in ways that make them persuasive, or oddball, or intriguing or simply comfortable on the tongue – kinda like mouthfeel but for sentences.

Systems Thinking gave me a language I knew I needed but hadn’t known where to find it. I finally had the vocabulary to make the connections and relationships between information and knowledge in my head becomes tangible. It allowed me to see boundaries as not just a constraint but to understand how language could bring the focus necessary to bring about beneficial improvements.

It also showed me that language is more than words. Diagramming became my new lexicon. Grappling with this new language was hard work, but once I’d found a way to use it, oh, it rewarded me in so many ways. The ability to show why something wasn’t working with a simple causal loop diagram, or how invisible ‘actors’ would be affected by decisions thanks to developing clearer strategic relationship diagrams… these new ways of ‘talking’ and ‘discussing’ were one of the best things to come out of my study. Suddenly, very complex situations could be condensed into simple structures understandable by all – and most importantly, able to be discussed in groups and then redrawn.

Language evolves. Word and imagery meanings shift between different people. Through discussing diagrams and models, so definitions were clarified, agreed upon and adopted. In fact, using these in my work taught others how these models and diagrams could be used, which broadened my understanding of them. I was able to learn how others learned and how I learned, all at the same time. Reaching back to my thinking around the ‘How of Work’, I could immediately see where I was going with that idea. Now I had the grammar with which to construct. I was able to start to become fluent.

People
I’ve always been interested in people. I look back over my various career (haha) choices and realise that I’ve always been in the service of people. To help them make better decisions. And while some of those choices, in hindsight, may not have been the best way to do this, I’ve come around to realising that the messiness of people who find themselves in situations they are struggling to comprehend, or deal with, is where I am best suited. As an advisor, a confidant, an orienteer.

It’s to this I am turning towards for new projects in 2024.

Everything Improves
These things, which have wrought very big changes in myself have, understandably, created seismic shifts in how I work and the projects I take on. In fact, in some cases they’ve stopped me in my tracks and made me reconsider things; in others, they’ve allowed me to run at a faster pace and rely on iterative maps to get my to the next milestone. And then, working through the layers of paths taken, to see clearly where errors exist, what the outcome might have been, and to equip myself with the knowledge and skills to ensure that mistakes do not get repeated – although they still get made, such is the way learning happens.

However, overall, I feel as if I have more agility to my performance. I know when to move forward towards unknowns, or with questions asked rather than answers provided. I would say I am a better guide for myself and for those with whom I work.

I now have a foundation. Not one from which to build, but one I can leave behind for others to build upon, that’s visible from wherever I head off to. It’s a foundation that has allowed me to explore. To go deeper, wider, higher, further, and to not get lost – or at least not fear getting lost – and to do so swiftly in any and all directions.

I am also looking inward. Not in a selfish sense, but in ways that help me understand my own learning and how I can use these discoveries to build better paths for others I come to work with. One clear-cut outcome of this is that much of my work didn’t deliver enough joy for me. I’d already began to fall out of love with it as the course progressed.

It’s this that has led to me creating Unspun Heroes, a side project that changes that outlook. And for once, it’s a side project that makes money and isn’t done for the sake of doing something creative, or funny. Even though it is creative, and it is fun (if not ha-funny-ha). It’s the first major change that’s having a real positive effect on fundamental aspects of my life. And while I’m starting again in many respects – not to mention the upheaval that it’s wreaking on my consultancy work – I’m happy with how things are going, the questions I’m asking of myself and opportunities it is opening up.

If nothing else, it’s putting some distance into the rear view mirror on the darker times of 2023. And that is a very good thing.

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Systemic sensibilities and post-grad research

For the past three years, on and off, I’ve been studying for an MSc in Systems Thinking in Practice with the Open University.

It’s been a real enjoyable experience, in the main, except for one notable module which was very much aimed at non-systemic thinkers.

This (academic) year, I have one thing to focus on: a research project. This will be the culmination of my formal learning that, I hope, will result in the awarding of my Masters. I chose the Open University as it enabled me to do things at my own pace, working around busy periods with work and other life events like hospital treatments and so forth.

Study has been a bit of a lifeboat for me in the rough seas of lockdowns and pandemics. As someone who is considerably affected by respiratory diseases, having something to keep my mind from spiralling has been great for my mental health. However, this is an aside. The point of this post is to note some things about the ideas that have been percolating since I started on this academic journey.

The seeds of learning

I’ve always enjoyed learning new things. I’ve always enjoyed working in collaborative ways, to hear other people’s views and to understand how things can be brought to fruition so that everyone is (relatively) happy and improvements have been made. It’s why I’ve been so keen on working in creative environments, whether that’s on digital products or ‘old skool’ advertising. Turns out, I’ve been interested in Systems. By Systems (with a capital S) I mean the interrelationships within a situation and how things work together to generate something bigger than each could create on their own.

I can trace this feeling back to my teens, when I was a bit of an environmental activist and a lot more political than I am now. That culminated in my under-graduate degree in Environmental Management. Unfortunately, finding work back in the early 90s was tough and I accidentally fell into becoming a copywriter. I’d seen the internet and was therefore excited by the Web and what it could bring about.

So, things haven’t turned out well for either of my previous interests, but this is how the seeds of learning were planted. They lay dormant, in terms of formal education, for years, but after some major health issues in 2016, they began to sprout.

I’ve become rather disillusioned with my chosen working practices, it’s fair to say. But let’s rewind a little. In 2018, I started looking at my own methods. Through an ethnographic study, I ended up studying my own working practice as I set about changing the strategic practices of a client’s agency. I got interested in human behaviour, how choices are made and by whom (the ethics and power of change) and I also began mixing with some interesting people who were experimenting with workshops.

What I learned was, I was beginning to see things systemically.

I began with looking at various courses. Many took place, pre-pandemic, in-person at places that were far away from London. They would require me to give up work and go into full-time education for a year or two. Not possible.

After a really good email conversation with the London School of Economics, I was pointed towards the Open University. I can’t understand why I hadn’t considered them before now, but I got hooked on the OpenLearn platform’s Systems Thinking courses. I now had a name for what was interesting me.

With barely a thought about undertaking post-graduate training in my mid-forties, I posted something on Instagram and Twitter, got some positive signs and so enrolled for the MSc. I started my study in late 2019, finishing my first module just as the pandemic took hold.

I realised a lot in those first six months of study, not least that I knew very little. I often felt stupid and slow. I struggled to get into writing academically, after half a lifetime of writing for brands and corporate marketing departments. But I passed. The same with my second module, which gave me the tools and methodologies I needed to start being better at my job.

My third module, I took on a research project about maps and learning. This was my happy place, which showed in my final mark. I got to write up my findings in a choose-your-own-adventure-style ‘report’.

(You can read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here, which will give you an idea of what I learned.)

I was slowly becoming more literate in systemic thinking. In some aspects, I was building out my systemic capabilities. I took a strategic and technical module, which I found limiting and focused on ‘innovation’ even if that meant it was a failure in commercial terms. I didn’t really understand the purpose of the module, although I learned a lot about business models and that was knowledge I didn’t have previously and has also become hugely useful since. I passed it with flying colours, so all the negatives diminish.

And now, I am on the final stretch.

Projecting my ideas

I have set out a research proposal. It’s quite messy, mostly because I am having to learn how to do proper rigorous academic research as I go along. It’s like learning two really hard things at the same time, like learning to ride a bike on a unicycle. But it is exciting. I might go as far as to say it’s fun despite the challenge.

I still need to refine my research justification, but the essence of it is that I am looking at how consultants (of any and all flavours) can help to ‘awaken’ systemic sensibilities within individuals they interact with in organisations through generative ‘conversations’. By this I mean conversations that enable open, dialogic conversations where no one is right or wrong but perspectives can change as people learn.

It will involve interview consultants about their work, to see how they go about it. The outcome could be that I have a collection of ways in which other consultants can awaken systemic sensibilities in those they work with, or simply understand why this doesn’t happen more often. I will also be critically evaluating my own practice and documenting this as a systemic inquiry so that I can improve my own systems capability.

While the bulk of my data collection happens in April/May 2023, I am thinking already about who to speak to, what I want to ask of my participants, and also trying to make sure it remains rigorous academic research. I’m not afraid to admit that I am not always balancing things, and sometimes I am dropping all the balls I am trying to juggle.

What I know is, it wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t also tough to do. If it was easy everyone would do a post-graduate qualification. That while I am about to enter what could be my last decade, I want to ensure I get that satisfaction an achievement of this type provides.

What I don’t know is where it might lead.

My hope is it will help me step away from disillusionment, give me more confidence in my own abilities, and shift me towards more meaningful work that improves things at a more societal level. A big ask, but dreams are what sustain us. Right?

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One Of The Best Things

I’ve been mentoring people for a few years now.
It all began by accident – someone asked me to mentor them and so I did.
Their recommendation brought me more people.

Now, I mentor as part of the She Says Who’s Your Momma Mentoring scheme in London. This is doubly great as it’s focused on elevating the great women leaders in the creative industries.

Seeing the change in people is probably my favourite thing from doing this.
It’s gradual, but like a wave it builds with an energy that’s infectious.
For me as the mentor, and for the mentee.

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The Feeling of Stupidity and the Rewards that Gives

The past 12 months I’ve been studying for an MSc in a subject that is far and above what I would consider my intelligence able to handle.

I’m not being self-deprecating here. I know I’m not stupid. It’s just that taking on a STEM subject when you’ve spent the past 20 or so years doing arts stuff, well, it makes for a steep learning curve. Or rather, a deep learning trough.

I routinely find myself re-reading something six or seven times and still not grasping it. Never a good sign. Partly this is because Systems Thinking isn’t an easy subject. More so at Masters level.

Part of the issue sits with distance learning. It’s hard to foster conversations that help with cognition when those people you’re on the course with live overseas, or just don’t want to get involved with an online forum. Especially an online forum that doesn’t thread conversations.

Another challenge is that the subject can be applied to any complex situation, so subjects range from European Economic legislature to local government to healthcare to social systems for drug addicts to education. I know less about most of that than I do Systems Thinking.

Oh, did I mention that the course is also about the application of the tools I’m gaining knowledge of? Many people enrolled on the course are using their everyday job as a way of doing the practical side. I don’t have a job. I have few clients that want to pay me to test out some theories and methodologies I have a scant understanding of.

When I say few, I mean none.

What this means is, I often feel stupid. Really stupid.

Why can’t I grasp this concept?

What is it about this tool that I could use to show I understand it?

Why is academia both arcane in its approach to writing and incredibly rigid on its word count?

And then I remember that, in a conversation with a client, I was able to untangle a Gordian Knot of organisational messiness that had flummoxed the internal team and at least one other consultant for almost a year. Just by asking a question. A single question that I wouldn’t have thought to ask had I not learned about requisite variety.

I remember that I’m not stupid every time I draw a diagram to understand what’s going on with a situation and where – and with whom – the power lies within it.

It’s the best feeling when someone better understands what they need to do after you’ve unpicked a messy issue for them or drawn it out for them. How they go off and make actual change happen based on something you’ve taught them.

These things don’t happen often. In fact, they’ve all happened once only with clients. The diagrams occur more frequently, I tend not to share them – they’re a tool in themselves that help me understand where I might be able to start, or what questions I might want to ask. They show up biases, misunderstandings, political issues, and where organisations and/or people get in their own way.

Feeling stupid is an important part of learning. Without it, I’d simply be confirming my own bias. It forces me to reflect. To think about why I’m thinking. To step beyond the facts and consider the knowledge and history underpinning decisions. To take in multiple views and work with the contradictions that develop from this, as well as the uncertainty this creates.

Being stupid makes me question things: myself, what I’m being asked, why people think a certain thing or do things a certain way.

I’m learning to embrace my stupidity, to make it work in my favour. To make me smarter, so I can start to push towards more difficult concepts. Or to discover why the application of what appears to be obvious isn’t always the right thing to do.

I’m thankful for the patience of those who understand that learning is about feeling stupid occasionally. That learning requires admission of that stupidity and for others not to react with snarky comments or a sense of superiority. To ask questions of why and how. Hard as it is, without stupidity, I’d have failed my first year.

I just hope I’ve got a tiny bit smarter in preparation for the year ahead.

No one should be allowed to stay stupid. Or worse, want to remain so. That’s not something you’d vote for.

Oh.