Changes and a Grand Experiment

After more than 20 years of blogging across four different domains, I’m changing platforms from self-hosting (WordPress, mostly) to Substack. I hope this pivot will simplify the technical side of my life and allow me to focus more on writing.

Please visit The Stoic Agilist on Substack and support my writing efforts by subscribing. You can also visit StoicAgilist.com (self-hosted on WordPress, of course) to view the same posts that appear on Substack except they will be published approximately four weeks later than they appear on Substack. Subscriber only content will only be available on Substack.

The posts that remain available on The Agile Fieldbook are a matter of record that I wish to remain public.

The Emotional Bumblebee

I finished Lisa Feldman Barrett’s book, “How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain,” this past week. It’s the latest exploration in my decades-long journey to better understand myself and others. There’s a lot in this book and it’s been a paradigm shift for me personally. I expect the effects from the insights gained from Dr. Barrett’s work in my professional life will be equally seismic.

As part of this exploration and effort to understand what Dr. Barrett and others are discovering, I’ve been experimenting with different ways to organize and assimilate information. For years I’ve used mind mapping and its served me well. I continue to use this approach almost daily. Ah, but the relentless advancement of technology has resulted in new tools. My current favorite (meaning the one that so far matches how my brain seems to work) is a tool called Obsidian. It’s new and is evolving quickly. I’ve been using Obsidian to organize and study cognitive biases in a way similar to Buster Benson’s work. This past weekend I began a similar process with emotions based on Dr. Barrett’s work.

It’s early but it has already yielded many important insights and benefits. I began by collecting as many words I could find (currently, 514) that are used to describe emotional states or patterns. I then entered them into Obsidian, each connected to a single node, “Words that express emotion.” Here’s a partial screen capture of the Obsidian graph:

The graph is too big to fit on a single screen and have the words show. And Obsidian does not yet have an export feature for graphs into a standard image file. So I’m limited by screen real estate. Where I take this next…I’m not sure, actually. Probably a cycle of refinement and deep dive into definitions and descriptions. I can foresee the creation of a real-time tool for assessing emotional states using a circumplex. Lots of experimentation ahead.

There is a dynamic quality to the graphs in Obsidian that is part of the fun and path-to-insights with the information. I’ve created a video to show the effect and set it to Nikolai Riminsky-Korsakov’s orchestral interlude “Flight of Bumblebee.” If/when you read Dr. Barrett’s book, you will understand why I selected the bee theme. It’s a virtual emotional bee hive inside our heads and bodies. Be sure to expand the video to full screen for maximum effect. Enjoy!

Memorial Day, 2020

I have forgotten where I discovered this picture. It was many years ago. I do not know who these men are or when and where this picture was taken. (If you know, please drop me a line.) I’ve copies of it on virtually every chunk of technology I own that’s capable of showing pictures as a frequent reminder and image for contemplation. It is rich in meaning in many different ways.

Judging by the amount of surrounding destruction, I’d guess these men are deep into Europe, perhaps even Germany. The uniforms suggest Spring, perhaps. Not warm enough for Summer, not cold enough for Winter. Perhaps they are toasting VE day, perhaps having survived the liberation of yet another city, perhaps having survived a recent battle, or maybe just celebrating being alive in the moment.

The soldier on the left appears to have what looks like a Thompson submachine gun on his lap, suggesting things in the area are not as casual as the wine bottle and raised glasses might suggest.

To all who have served us in the defense of Freedom and Liberty: My sincere and deep appreciation and most humble thanks.

What to do while on “vacation” during a pandemic.

Build a Torii Gate, of course.

A vacation originally planed for this week in Utah was scrubbed. So a significant pivot was in order. Priorities, plans, and schedules shifted and forward motion was begun once again.

I wanted to build a Torii Gate on the East side of my property for several years. The gate and fence that was there worked well enough so it never made it very far up on the backlog. That changed last fall when the Chinook winds – which are frequent, sudden, and fierce in this part of the country – snapped  the two supporting gate posts. (The same storm also blew off the gate on the North side of the property, but that’s another project.) The gate and fence have been braced up by 2×4’s all winter. Not a good look.

Worked on the hashira (posts) over the winter. They needed to withstand the Chinooks. So, 6′ steel post – 3′ bolted within 3 2x6x10s and 3′ sunk into a concrete base – ought to hold for a while.

Time to begin the outside work.

First post had to be set perfectly. This is after it had set for a few days and most of the supports had been pulled away.

Next, the nuki (lower beam) and the shimagi and kasagi (two upper beams.)

Add a little extra flair trim to the kasagi, stain, and seal.

All that was need to complete the Torii gate part of the gate was the gakuzuka – a small brace in the center between the shimagi and kasagi – with an inscription. The weather intervened and brought us about 9″ of fresh snow.

Weather cleared, snow melted, still self-isolating – back to work to build and install the new swinging gate.

Next, dress up the top of the swinging gate with a pattern to match the fence on the north side of the property.

Finally, add the gakuzuka. The Japanese kanji on the way into the gate is “Love.” Find love here, all ye who enter.

The kanji on the way out through the gate is “Peace.” Take peace with you into the world.

Add an exterior handle crafted from ceder and the gate is done. The street view is quite nice, even before the summer vines and surrounding flowers wake up.

Time now to clean up the work site and do a little path repair.

Update – 2020.07.25

Just following a rain storm and the summer foliage starting to grow back.

Coder’s Lullaby

[Sung to the tune of Woody Guthrie‘s Hobo’s Lullaby.]

Go to sleep you weary coder.
Let the output scroll on by.
Hear the cooling fans a hummin’.
That’s the coder’s lullaby.

Do not think about the deadlines.
Let the deadlines come and go.
Tonight you’ve got a nice warm cubie.
Safe from all the deadline woe.

Go to sleep you weary coder.
Let the output scroll on by.
Hear the cooling fans a hummin’.
That’s the coder’s lullaby.

I know the bosses cause you trouble.
They cause trouble everywhere
When you die and go to heaven,
You’ll find there are no bosses there.

Go to sleep you weary coder.
Let the output scroll on by.
Hear the cooling fans a hummin’.
That’s the coder’s lullaby.

Responsibility and Improvement

Feral chickens on the Hawaiian Island of Kaua’i are ubiquitous. And they can be aggressive, particularly when they are roaming around common outdoor eating areas.

While the vast majority of visitors to the island honor the signs that say “Don’t Feed the Chickens,” all it takes is a couple of noob’s to put the operant conditioning in motion and keep it going with each new planeload of first-time and unaware visitors.

I watched the consequences of this play out during a recent trip to the island. I was enjoying a cup of coffee and a blueberry scone at The Spot in Princeville. (Side Bar: GO HERE! The food and coffee is FANTASTIC!) A young couple, obviously new to the island, collected their breakfast order at the service window, selected a table, and then went back to the service window to get utensils, napkins, and whatever else. Left unattended for less than 5 seconds, the chickens were on the table and a sizeable rooster had made off with a croissant.

I can only describe the woman’s response as upset and indignant. She promptly returned to the service window and asked – expectantly – for a replacement. To which The Spot employee directed her attention to the sign above the service windows that said, “DO NOT LEAVE FOOD UNATTENDED. Chickens are aggressive and will attack your food if not guarded. WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CHICKENS AND CANNOT REPLACE DAMAGED FOOD FOR YOU.”

There are two (at least) lessons to be learned from this. One by the patron and one by the owner of The Spot.

First, the patron. Five bucks (or whatever a croissant costs on Kaui’i) is a very cheap price to pay for a valuable lesson about not just the chickens on Kaua’i, but the very fact that the Rules of Life from wherever your point of origin was have changed. I’ve camped on this island many time over the years and if you are not mindful of the dangers and keep the fact you are not in Kansas any more foremost in your mind, it’s easy to get into trouble. It’s a stunningly beautiful part of the planet with many hidden dangers. Slip and fall on a muddy trail, for example, can be deadly. Lack of awareness of the rip tides and undertows at the beaches can be equally deadly.

So stay alert. Be aware. Read every sign you see. Study what the locals do. Ask questions. And do a little research before traveling to Hawai’i.

For the owner of the Spot, I have this suggestion: The chicken warning sign is written in black marker on brown paper. It’s also placed high in the service window where patrons collect their order. If there is a line out the door, it typically bends away from the service window. Patrons don’t come to the service windows until their name is called. When they do, their natural line of sight is down, looking at the super scrumptious food. It is certain their attention will be drawn away from the warning sign about the chickens (#1 in the picture below) as they focus on gathering their food (#2 in the picture below.)

Fine to keep the sign in the service window, but lower it so there’s a better chance the patrons will see it. Also, put it on white paper. Even better, put a duplicate sign on the inside of the shop viewable from where customers are paying for their food. While they are standing in line waiting to place their order and reading the menu on the wall for the 12th time they are more likely to read the chicken warning sign. Maybe include a cartoon image of a rooster running off with a croissant.

This won’t “fix” the problems the unaware types bring with them onto the island, but I suspect it will cut down on the number of self-entitled noob’s demanding compensation for their lack of awareness. I’d like for The Spot to do everything they can to succeed, which means controlling costs and satisfying customers. I’d also like for the noob’s to gain some self-awareness and take that back home with them.

Win-win.

(I dropped a note to the owners of The Spot with these suggestions. They replied that they liked them and plan to implement these simple changes. If you’re in the area, send me a note, maybe with a picture, as to whether or not the sign has changed. If so, ask if the changes made any difference! Always good to know the results of any experiment.)

Heroes

A bit of a break from what could be considered the usual theme of this blog to recognize several amazing heroes from World War II – Major General Maurice Rose and Corporal Clarence Smoyer. Both have a connection to Colorado, at least for today.

General Rose was educated in Denver and graduated from East High School in 1916. He lied about his age so that he could join the Colorado National Guard after graduating high school. Seventy four years ago today, General Rose was killed in action. He was the highest-ranking American killed by enemy fire in the European Theater of Operations during World War II. Rose Medical Center in Denver is named in his honor.

Corporal Smoyer, at age 95, is still with us. He served under General Rose and was in Denver today for a book signing – Adam Makos’ latest book, “Spearhead.” It was well worth the two hour wait to shake the man’s hand, thank him for his service, and – a distant third on the list – receive an autographed copy of the book.

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The plan was for Corporal Smoyer to ride in on a tank and stop in front of Union Station, the site of uncounted final “goodbye’s” during the war. Eighty trains a day, the Union Station historian said, arrived and departed from Denver in the early 1940’s carrying many young men on their way to war. Given it was a cold, wet, rainy-snowy day in Denver, the turnout was actually quite good.

Corporal Smoyer had ample escort!

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At long last, the Corporal arrived, mounted atop a WWII era Stewart tank. Although not the tank in which Corporal Smoyer went to war, it is the only civilian owned operable tank in Colorado.

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It took a little time to help the 95 year old soldier down from his mount. With his feet on solid ground, Corporal Smoyer stepped over to the Stewart tank and hung his handicap parking placard on the cannon barrel. Well play, sir. Well played.

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After a brief recounting of several stories and the unveiling of a commemorative painting to be hung in Union Station, he was off to begin signing copies of the book.

Today I shook the hand of a hero and am feeling profoundly grateful to Corporal Smoyer and all the men and women from his time that defeated a fearsome evil and preserved the Freedom of which I am a direct beneficiary.

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Clouds and Windmills

I recently resigned from the company I had been employed by for over 5 years. The reason? It was time.

During my tenure1 I had the opportunity to re-define my career several times within the organization in a way that added value and kept life productive, challenging, and rewarding. Each re-definition involved a rather extensive mind mapping exercises with hundreds of nodes to described what was working, what wasn’t working, what needed fixing, and where I believed I could add the highest value.

This past spring events prompted another iteration of this process. It began with the question “What wouldn’t happen if I didn’t go to work today?”2 This is the flip of asking “What do I do at work?” The latter is a little self-serving. We all want to believe we are adding value and are earning our pay. The answer is highly filtered through biases, justifications, excuses, and rationalizations. But if in the midsts of a meeting you ask yourself, “What would be different if I were not present or otherwise not participating?”, the answer can be a little unsettling.

This time around, in addition to mind mapping skills, I was equipped with the truly inspiring work of Tanmay Vora and his sketchnote project. Buy me a beer some day and I’ll let you in on a few of my discoveries. Suffice it to say, the overall picture wasn’t good. I was getting the feeling this re-definition cycle was going to include a new employer.

A cascade of follow-on questions flowed from this iteration’s initial question. At the top:

  1. Why am I staying?
  2. Is this work aligned with my purpose?
  3. Have my purpose and life goals changed?

The answers:

  1. The paycheck
  2. No.
  3. A little.

Of course, it wasn’t this simple. The organization changed, as did I, in a myriad of ways. While exploring these questions, I was reminded of a story my Aikido teacher, Gaku Homma, would tell when describing his school. He said it was like a rope. In the beginning, it had just a few threads that joined with him to form a simple string. Not very strong. Not very obvious. But very flexible. Over time, more and more students joined his school and wove their practice into Nippon Kan’s history. Each new thread subtlety changed the character of the emerging rope. More threads, more strength, and more visibility. Eventually, an equilibrium emerges. Some of those threads stop after a few short weeks of classes, other’s (like mine) are 25 years long before they stop, and for a few their thread ends in a much more significant way.

Homma Sensi has achieved something very difficult. The threads that form Nippon Kan’s history are very strong, very obvious, and yet remain very flexible. Even so, there came a time when the right decision for me was to leave, taking with me a powerful set of skills, many good memories, and friendships. The same was true for my previous employer. Their rope is bending in a way that is misaligned with my purpose and goals. Neither good nor bad. Just different. Better to leave with many friendships intact and a strong sense of having added value to the organization during my tenure.

The world is full of opportunities. And sometimes you have to deliberately and intentionally clear all the collected clutter from your mental workspace so those opportunities have a place to land. Be attentive to moments like this before your career is remembered only as someone who yells at clouds and tilts at windmills.


1 By the numbers…

1,788 Stand-ups
1,441 Wiki/Knowledgebase Contributions
311 Sprint/Release Planning Sessions
279 Reviews
189 Retrospectives
101 Projects
31 Internal Meet-ups
22 Agile Cafés
10 Newsletters
5.5 Years
3 Distinct Job Titles
1 Wild Ride

2 My thanks to colleague Lennie Noiles and his presentation on Powerful Questions. While Lennie didn’t ask me this particular question, it was inspired by his presentation.

The Passing of a Master

It has been several months since news of Emily Busch ‘s unexpected death and I still wrestle with the thought I shall never have the privilege of again practicing Aikido with her at Nippon Kan. The blow to Homa Sensei is undoubtedly far greater. I do not know his pain, but I am familiar with it.

Looking at the growing stack of draft posts, I see about a dozen on the subject of mastery. I feel I have a lot to contribute to this subject, particularly in regard to Agile practices. And yet, I hesitate due to a sense that I still have more to learn before I’m in a position to teach on the subject. In no small measure this hesitation is counseled by having met and studied with a great many truly masterful people across a wide variety of human experience.

Emily was one of those masters.

Not only was she a master of Aikido (6th degree black belt and Sensei at Nippon Kan), she was a master jeweler. She designed and made the wedding rings for both my first and second wife along with several beautiful pendants and a set of ear rings for one of my nieces. I never had a personal jeweler before Emily and shall not have another before my time is finished on this earth.

For all her skill and mastery, she very much understood the importance of service. There was no task that needed attention at the dojo or in preparation for a seminar that was beneath her rank. And I wonder how many patrons to Domo restaurant knew they had their order taken and served by a 6th degree black belt.

Emily had already achieved the rank of black belt by the time I began practicing at Nippon Kan in 1989. My very early memories from practicing with her are of her patience and ability to skillfully instruct a 6’5″ oaf like me in the ways of Aikido – both on and off the mat. I don’t know if Emily even weighed 120 pounds, but that never stopped her from putting my sorry ass on the mat or sending me over her shoulder. Even so, I never matched Emily’s skill, even on my good days.

Those mastery related posts will have to wait a while longer. And in the wider view, my respect for those whom make claim to be masters without having done the work and earned the title have lost a little more of my respect.

Emily Sensei will be missed.