Archives for January 2021

It’s doesn’t matter if it’s Shakespeare, Chekov, or Machiavelli, it’s going to be hard to understand it on the first reading.

When we come up against a tough read, our instinct is to pause on the difficult words and sentences to try to decipher them.

But this breaks our flow. It stops our momentum.

Another approach is to let go of expectations. If something doesn’t make sense on the first read, move on. Read to get the essence, not to understand it in detail.

Then, once you’re done, read it a second time. This time, allow yourself to pause and digest what you don’t understand.

With a sense of the whole in your mind, you’ll be better prepared to dive into the tough parts on the second run.

At a recent work awards ceremony, there was an award called ‘Jugaad’.

It’s a Hindi word meaning a flexible approach to solve a problem, that uses limited resources in an innovative way.

I love this word, and I love how it describes something we can all understand, but have no equivalent for in the English language.

Here’s to new ways of thinking, new words, and a striving for Jugaad in our work.

1 in 30 people in London are currently infected with coronavirus.

That’s not “have had,” or a measure of cumulative cases, it’s the live case rate.

That number is astonishing, especially when we think back to June 2020 when only 300 new cases were being reported per day in London—a tiny number considering our population of 9 million.

As the days creep by, the numbers change but our day-to-day stays much the same. We still get our groceries, social distance, and limit all non-essential activity.

It’s a striking lesson in how currents can shift dramatically below the surface, but all we may see are ripples on top of the water.

To my London readers in particular, stay safe these next few weeks and months.

The first time I cook a new dish, it’s a nightmare.

I use 2x the number of plates required. Spoons and utensils fill the sink. There are splashes and messes dotted around the kitchen.

The second time round, however, is a little smoother. The messes are little less messy. The mistakes a little less frequent. The clean-up a little more manageable.

If I judged myself on my first try, I’d be hard on myself. But give me a little time, space, and practise, and a new story emerges.

The first try is a single data point. The second, third, fourth, and fifth tries are data points that now tell a story of refinement, improvement, and persistence.

We’re usually much better the second time round.

I’m a big fan of The Orange Book twitter account.

They post wise and pithy aphorisms that help me see the world in new ways. I also find the tweet format amplifies their work, rather than diminishing it. They pack a lot of punch into those small tweets.

Every so often, a tweet will stick with me. I end up thinking about it for a while, and the idea eventually morphs into a blog post.

Have a read through their tweets, and if you’re on Twitter and like their stuff, I hope you’ll enjoy following them as much as I do.

Risk only exists when we have options.

If we’re presented with two options, and we think Option B could be better than Option A, we now run the risk of choosing the wrong thing.

However, when there are no options, there are also no risks. We get on with it, because there’s no alternative.

So I remind myself: we only get the opportunity to minimise risk when we have options—and that’s something to be grateful for.

Think back to a time you tried something new, made a mistake, and felt ridiculous.

You never looked ridiculous.

You were simply learning.

The sugar fix is convenient, pleasurable, and fast.

On the other hand, a meal requires preparation and effort. It’s nutritious, but it can sometimes feel a bit boring.

These categories can be used to classify most activities in life—they aren’t just for food.

I recently strained my right elbow during a workout.

Not wanting to aggravate it further, I decided to rest for one week until the pain subsided. But when I returned with a light workout, the discomfort followed.

Frustrated, I spoke to a physiotherapist, and was surprised when they told me to continue training but only up to a specified pain threshold (3 out of 10 on my pain scale).

I was told it’s better to keep moving—even if there is low-grade pain—than abstain from exercise all together. The mild stress will ultimately speed up recovery, rather than hinder it.

It’s unlikely to be an elbow strain, but what pain in your life is worth embracing right now?

Aiming for perfection is tiring.

There is no such thing as a perfect life, a perfect career, a perfect family, or a perfect cup of coffee.

The best we can do—and all we can ask of ourselves—is to try and be a bit better every day.

Some of the best books can be read in half a day or a lifetime.

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius

Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl

The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott

To name a few.

I’d love to hear if you have any short, but lifelong, reads.

Maru and I recently finished watching the excellent series ‘Little Fires Everywhere’. It’s the story of a single mother who moves to the Ohio suburbs with her teenage daughter, and how their lives unravel as they become involved with a picture-perfect family.

Coincidentally, my sister, Mandy, was reading the ‘Little Fires Everywhere’ novel at the same time.

Although we experienced the story in completely different ways—Mandy using her imagination, and me watching the visual adaptation—we were able to have a seamless conversation about the characters, their arcs, their moments of failure, and their opportunities for redemption.

Pain, heartache, joy, triumph, love, and shame are universal emotions that can transcend their medium. So whether we end up sharing our stories via talking, writing, singing, or filming, it’s the essence that matters most.

Failure is often followed by embarrassment, and sometimes even shame.

But when we fail, it doesn’t mean we’re a failure.

To fail is to be human—to lapse, to err, to miss. But our mistakes are singular moments. They are not us.

Most of us will have heard this message before—there is nothing ground breaking here. But reminding ourselves of the message, repeating it in our minds, and approaching each new day with self-compassion and dignity is a life-long practice.

No one invented electricity.

It’s always been there.

Sure, we discovered it, and harnessed it, and most of our daily activities depend on it, but it has existed since the beginning of time—long before we figured out how to use it.

What else is out there waiting to be discovered? What else do we think is impossible today that will be plain and obvious to future generations?

And what mindset do we need to bring each day to even have the opportunity to see something others haven’t been able to see before, even if it’s always been there?

The new COVID variant—recently discovered here in the UK—is deeply troubling. Although its mortality rate is no worse than the original strain, its rate of transmissibility is 70% higher.

A new study from Imperial College London has confirmed the R0—a virus’s reproduction number, or the number of cases directly generated by an infected person—of the new variant is between 0.4-0.7 higher than the original strain.

But what do these numbers mean in practise?

During the November 2020 UK lockdown, the R0 was 0.9, meaning on average each infected person passed the virus on to 0.9 people. This resulted in a 30% decline in new cases over a 3-week period.

However, there is a fine line between case rate decline and growth—an R0 > 1 will lead to exponential increases in transmission.

Due to the transmissibility of the new COVID variant, the UK’s R0 is now estimated at 1.1-1.3, and newly imposed lockdowns are not bringing case rates down.

This means an accelerated vaccination programme is of the utmost importance, and is why the UK has extended the gap between the first and second dose of the vaccine—from 4 weeks to 12 weeks—in an effort to provide at least some immunity to a broader segment of the population before the spring.

My reflections on the topic are rudimentary and simplistic—I’m not a scientist or close to the subject matter. But there are underlying principles here that I’ve been reflecting on.

At work and at home these “fine lines” exist. There are thresholds where small changes can compound into significant opportunities or problems over a period of time. When we realise that the world works in a non-linear way, and we anticipate it, we can better prepare ourselves to respond.