Smart people think about how they think…and why. I have had a feeling about this for some time now, but not until picking up de Bono’s, “Six Thinking Hats,” a couple days ago was I given the words to describe this idea with clarity. I had heard of de Bono from my mother-in-law, a PhD in talented and gifted education and blog author, but knew nothing about him or his field of study.

After reading the first 50 pages of his book I found myself hooked. Dr. Edward de Bono is the leading authority in the field of conceptual thinking and is an advocate of teaching thinking as a skill. Here’s a snippet from the preface that sums up his approach to the human mind:

Thinking is the ultimate human resources. Yet we can never be satisfied with our most important skill. No matter how good we become, we should always want to be better. Usually, the only people who are very satisfied with their thinking skill are those poor thinkers who believe that the purpose of thinking is to prove yourself right - to your own satisfaction. If we have only a limited view of what thinking can do, we may be smug about our excellence in this area, but not otherwise (Preface 2, emphasis mine)

The part of this quote that struck me the most was how often we find ourselves pursuing learning and thinking for the sole purpose of proving ourselves right. What a terrible habit, yet it’s such an easy trap to fall into. It’s only when we’re challenged that we find ourselves scrambling to do research or looking up data to support our claims…yet, shouldn’t that come beforehand?

We can only start to scratch the surface of intelligent thinking when we humbly admit that we know very little; that the unread books on our bookshelves greatly outnumber the ones we have read.

So what is the purpose for which you are trying to learn and expand your ability to think? Is it simply to prove yourself right or is it an authentic and innocent pursuit of truth, whatever it may be?

More on De Bono’s, “Six Thinking Hats,” to come….

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!

When I was young there was a show I watched on Nickelodeon called, “Are You Afraid of the Dark,” a horror-themed kid’s series which basically portrayed various ghost stories and urban legends each week to millions of wide-eyed adolescents like myself. The show was quite a hit because it focused on something that most of us had in common at that age, an unexplainable fear of the dark. Like most, I was constantly consumed by the idea that a whole new evil world existed in my closet as soon as my mom kissed me goodnight and switched off the lights.

Most kids have this fear and eventually grow out of it. Lately, though, I have begun to believe that the average college and 20-something has replaced this fear with an entirely new one, the fear of silence.

How many times have you been alone at home and turned on the television, not to watch anything, but simply for the background noise? When you hop in the car you turn on some music. Going on a run…can’t forget the iPod. I know friends that have to have some sort of noise just to fall asleep at night!

Our lives have slowly become enveloped by a white noise that all of us feel quite naked without. Noise has become for us at age 24 what a night light was at age 5. Don’t believe me? When is the last time you drove to school or work in complete silence? Or spent a day without turning on the t.v. or stereo?

While many brush this fact off as a funny quirk, I contend that this phobia is a destructive one, keeping us from the deeper things of life, the things buried deep down in the soul…the things that only come out in solitude and the heaviest of silence.

In, “Death by Suburb,” author David Goetz explains, “The deeper spiritual life is never a direct route…In the toxic dump of efficiency and control, though, the first act must be countercultural — a decision not to act.” Silence is hard and scary and aggravating because it’s nothing in a world that is constantly seeking something.

Many of the great thinkers and philosophers throughout history have grappled with the effects of silence’s partner solitude. In “Walden,” Henry David Thoreau revealed, “I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

Someone sitting in a small apartment in New York City is now reading this going, “Walden! Anyone could explore the richness of silence and solitude, ‘along the shores of Walden Pond,’ but I live in a city that never sleeps, among people that never shut up!” True. But maybe exploring the deeper life of silence and solitude is has nothing to do with geography.

Maybe exploring the things of the soul, the things of God and self requires nothing more than stopping. As Goetz puts it,

For spiritual development and entrance into the thicker, more reflective life, solitude is more inside space than it is outside space. Solitude isn’t something to consume, like a summer vacation at Lake Tahoe…It begins incrementally with the practice of becoming still. For a minute, for two minutes, for five minutes–not necessarily in beholding a snowcapped mountain peak, but simply in stopping the pursuit of efficiency…And to stop the scheming inside my head.

As I’ve tried to practice these times of silence and solitude I’ve discovered that often they are not so calming or relaxing as many would have you believe. In fact, sometimes they are miserable, a battle with myself…my mind wandering and me chasing after like a nagging headmaster to reign it back in…then me wondering things like, “If I am chasing my mind, does that mean my mind is chasing itself, like a dog chases it’s tail?” Ridiculous! Silence and stillness often don’t produce grand revelations…only more question marks. But every once and a while…it’s worth it.

Why do I tell you all this? Because being scared of the silence keeps us away from some of the greatest treasures in life. Our soul is an incredible thing, something God placed in man to make him like God. But the soul is mysterious…and can only be thoroughly examined in solitude and silence. Our lives, in many ways will depend on these moments of soul searching. And who would want to miss out by trading these moments for a little more background noise?

If you liked this article why not subscribe via RSS or e-mail so that you don’t miss out. Also, consider bookmarking this to delicious or Stumble. I’d appreciate it!

A couple days ago I began reading, “Boyd: The Fighter Pilot Who Changed the Art of War” by Robert Coram, the biography of Col John Boyd, one of the most controversial figures in Air Force history. Boyd is most famous for his Energy-Maneuverability Theory a huge breakthrough in fighter tactics and design, the OODA Loop and several other contributions to aviation and military theory and tactics.

Much of the book displays the constant fight between the mad warrior-scientist Boyd and the toe-the-line military establishment at the time, consisting of generals with little interest in change or original thought. Boyd was constantly being cornered by the soul-crushing monster of a bureaucracy at the Pentagon, spending more time convincing the leadership to challenge long-held assumptions than actually working on his theories.

While reading about the struggle of implementing change in a large bureaucracy, the following exchange between a Colonel and a newly appointed Secretary of Defense caught my attention. Secretary Schlesinger was looking for some wisdom on leaving a legacy and Colonel Hallock, a highly respected combat hero offered the following:

You must understand that if you want to leave a legacy it is vital for you to make a quick decision about what you want that legacy to be. If you don’t make a quick decision, you will have no legacy. Because after several months you become so caught up in the business of the Pentagon, so enmeshed with the generals, so overwhelmed with the scope and enormity of the job that it will be too late. Pick a few projects and put the full weight of your office behind them. Guide the projects. Nurture them. Know from the very beginning that they will be your legacy. Force them through the bureaucracy (Coram 279).

I wonder how many Fortune 500 CEO’s could have been saved from incredible failures if they’d had their own Colonel Hallock’s to keep them on track? The fact is large, established organizations are incredibly difficult, if not impossible to significantly change.

It is the desire of most leaders to jump into their role and start a revolution on day one, throwing out the old and bringing in the new…in reality, this very rarely happens. A leader would do much better to focus on two or three key things to change and throw their whole weight and energy behind those…this is the path to truly impacting an organization.

If you liked this article why not subscribe via RSS or e-mail so that you don’t miss out.

History is full of the narrative fallacy, our desire as humans to package well-known events and people into pithy, oversimplified stories. It makes sense for us to think that great things happen due to great people rather than ordinary people doing nothing more heroic than showing up to work every Monday; or that events are shaped by a few moments of incredible magnitude rather than a series of seemingly insignificant and otherwise dull sub steps. It is this weakness in human logic that Glenn Packiam takes aim at in his book Butterfly in Brazil: How Your Life Can Make a World of Difference, stressing that greatness is not achieved by that “one moment in time,” but rather over years of faithfulness in the small things…an idea not too attractive in today’s culture of instant success.

Packiam delves into this idea with precision, using the story of Nehemiah as an example of, “an ordinary man who ended up making an extraordinary difference.” Showing how God has chosen to intertwine himself and His supernatural nature into our mannish and gritty lives, Packiam paints a clear picture of how we should go about living a life of lasting impact…as participants in a divine improv, not chained to a script, but nonetheless completely ineffective and awkward outside the director’s basic framework.

Most of all this is a book about creating lasting change. His main points: 1) change is small 2) change is local 3) change is gradual 4) change is costly. He explains that while Christian culture often encourages its youth to change the world, “Trying to change the world is the surest way to guarantee that we won’t.” Instead Packiam encourages us to be faithful in the small things over a long period of time and as Jim Elliot so simply, but profoundly put it, “Wherever you are, be all there.”