We Think the Mud Is the Problem
The big problem with "heads down" working is the view that prevails: it's myopic. The times are calling for presbyopia or farsightedness.
The metaphor has some benefits in terms of grasping the challenges: if we focus o
n the trench then, mostly, I end up seeing the mud and the muck that I'm working in. Since I'm human, I'm interested in improvements and I yearn for a milled product of the forest: a 2x board -- a 2x10 would be good -- that I can lay on the floor of my trench and, therefore, rise above the ooze or mire (in winter and spring) and the crust in summer. This, I think, is progress. This is good.
Nevermind that I haven't heard a shot in days nor felt the vibration of an artillery shell hitting the earth; I'm still in the trench. And, this is the problem: I'm heads down and I don't look up very often (have you ever noticed that about the people walking on the streets in New York City? They just don't look up); it's a self-preservation thing.
So, I've got my boards; I'm traveling my trench a little more efficiently because my boots are not sinking into the goop but it's still a discouraging and depressing existence. If I looked up, over the side of the trench -- somewhere close to where my bolt-action rifle is positioned -- I'd discover that the enemy, the threat is gone. No soldiers, no guns, no artillery, no tents; their trenches have been filled in. The
y must have done it one night while I was sleeping.
Right now, I think there's a call for "Heads Up" working, looking out over the trenches; a push away from the jitteriness and an embrace of the possible. Maybe even some radical thinking, actions. Get rid of the boots, forget the boards and climb out; the threat is gone. In fact, it was never really there in the first place; it was just your imagination. Presbyopia: march on!
The big problem with "heads down" working is the view that prevails: it's myopic. The times are calling for presbyopia or farsightedness.
The metaphor has some benefits in terms of grasping the challenges: if we focus o
n the trench then, mostly, I end up seeing the mud and the muck that I'm working in. Since I'm human, I'm interested in improvements and I yearn for a milled product of the forest: a 2x board -- a 2x10 would be good -- that I can lay on the floor of my trench and, therefore, rise above the ooze or mire (in winter and spring) and the crust in summer. This, I think, is progress. This is good.Nevermind that I haven't heard a shot in days nor felt the vibration of an artillery shell hitting the earth; I'm still in the trench. And, this is the problem: I'm heads down and I don't look up very often (have you ever noticed that about the people walking on the streets in New York City? They just don't look up); it's a self-preservation thing.
So, I've got my boards; I'm traveling my trench a little more efficiently because my boots are not sinking into the goop but it's still a discouraging and depressing existence. If I looked up, over the side of the trench -- somewhere close to where my bolt-action rifle is positioned -- I'd discover that the enemy, the threat is gone. No soldiers, no guns, no artillery, no tents; their trenches have been filled in. The
y must have done it one night while I was sleeping.Right now, I think there's a call for "Heads Up" working, looking out over the trenches; a push away from the jitteriness and an embrace of the possible. Maybe even some radical thinking, actions. Get rid of the boots, forget the boards and climb out; the threat is gone. In fact, it was never really there in the first place; it was just your imagination. Presbyopia: march on!
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