I have this thing about Fridays. As much as I can I like to tie off loose ends and be mentally prepared for the week after. In this aspect of life I’m a tad anal. So I hate it when stuff goes wrong on Fridays. It shatters my illusion of control. I reckon it’s a 50/50 bet.

Multiply that and you get a sense of how I like to finish the year. Finances in order including comforting cash flow projections, customer projects appropriately punctuated, and preparations made for the start of the next working year.

Yesterday was that day for me. Up late preparing for next years work. Reflective lunch with Derek to review the Ergo year, pottering around the yurt (caravan) parked outside our front gate getting it ready for the well worn road trip, and tying off project lose ends before the break, pausing to watch old family videos as they played on the TV. Over the last few days I’ve been nervous something would go wrong.

It didn’t.

Today is celebration day. My son Zac graduates from Melbourne Uni and middle daughter Rachel gets her VCE results. Tomorrow Maria, Johanna and drive.

Fruitcake, chocolate, sunscreen. Cups of tea in the morning while everyone else sleeps. Have a great Christmas season. If you’d like to follow our summer excursions this year, you can do so here.

Ahhh 1977 in Australia.

Greg Chappell’s team beat England in the Centenary Test, remarkably by exactly the same margin as 100 years previously. Don Chip launches a new political party called the Australian Democrats, and tragically 83 people die in our worst train accident at Granville.

I was at high school, counting Art and Technical Drawing among my favourite subjects. Although I never went on to study architecture, I have retained a love for design and placemaking. Until last week I had a clear favourite book on the topic, Alain De Botton’s The Architecture of Happiness. A couple of weeks ago I began reading for the first time Christopher Alexander’s 1977 classic, Pattern Language.

Wow!

Why do I love this book so much? Stay with me on this one …

For some years now I have been exploring and wrestling with the meaning of ‘generative’. Indeed, I have been so captured by the concept that we’ve developed the Generative Edge brand. I first came across the concept in my association with the Society for Organisational Learning, and the work of related people including Peter Senge. In that context the word is used to mean ‘life-giving and sustainable’ and is used most frequently to describe a social technology to bring about systemic change; ‘generative dialogue’. This is how I first started using the word.

But I sensed there was more.

I discovered that the word had at least two other common, if technical uses; generative grammar, and generative music. To understand what these could possibly be, we need to dig deeper into the meaning of the word. In linguistics, generative means: ‘using rules to generate surface forms from underlying abstract forms’. Just last week in this blog I mentioned Noam Chomsky who developed a system for determining the structure of well-formed grammar based on underlying concepts, ‘generative grammar’ or what became known as transformational grammar.

The brilliance of it is breathtaking. ‘Generative grammar’ made explicit principles that native speakers use unconsciously.

Brian Eno did for music what Noam Chomsky did for grammar. As a minimalist artist, Eno discovered music and worked with some great innovators including Roxy Music, David Bowie and of course U2. Wikipedia describes generative music as ‘ever different and changing that is created by a system. In other words, generative music is real audible music that is generated by a set of underlying rules or principles. Not surprisingly, generative music is typically computer generated.

During 2010 I began writing some thoughts on generative living. I am fascinated by the idea that ‘well formed living’ is an expression of underlying, well understood rules or principles. So, when I began reading Pattern Language, I instantly recognised it as another brilliant piece of work on generativity. In this case ‘generative design’.

Alexander et al do not use the term, but it fits beautifully. Although generative design and generative art are concepts some people use, I think Pattern Language is a great candidate to lay a claim to generative design. It reveals in logical and accessible terms what comes intuitively to those who are natural designers. Indeed, the authors claim that by following their design methodology, anyone can develop an outstanding design for a city, house or veranda. Extraordinary stuff. Why haven’t I read this before now? From the intro, ‘at least part of the language we have presented here, is the archetypal core of all possible pattern languages, which can make people feel alive and human.’

So, perhaps you are reading this and have had the same thought as I’ve had. The great religions of the world encapture a ‘code of conduct’ that could be described as ‘generative living’. The problem of course is that it can get tangled with so much other unhelpful stuff. To use the dictionary language, the ‘surface form’ becomes the end game rather than the ‘underlying abstract forms’.

So my body of intelligence is growing. I am still a way off from figuring out if there is such a thing as generative living, but I’ve certainly got some ideas beginning to formulate. Well, of course there is such as thing as generative living, we see it in exceptional people, people who Clive Hamilton describes in The Freedom Paradox as ‘avatars of virtue’. The question is, how do we articulate this set of principles.

So here I am in 2011, wrestling with some stuff that Christopher Alexander had some great insight into way back in 1977 when I was watching a young David Hookes cover drive Tony Gregg for three boundaries in one over, without a care in the world.

Noam Chomsky helped me get though HSC English. My 17 year old brain was wired to do better at maths and science, so linguist (and philosopher) Chomsky’s generative grammar, or what we knew as transformational grammar, a logical system that enables the evaluation and construction of ‘sensible’ sentences, allowed me spend a term of English applying Chomsky’s principles to develop answers in a humanities subject that were either right or wrong. Woohoo.

Over the weekend I listened to an aging Chomsky give a lecture on the changing contours of the global order. He was in Australia recently, and although there was apparently no advertising of his visit, social media on its own meant 5000 turned out for his lecture at Deakin Uni. Whether or not you agree with his radical left analysis, I reckon the man is a genius. His hour-long monologue includes no introduction or conclusion, no emotion, no overarching narrative … and yet is riveting via the clarity and profundity of the historical observations.

This month’s Slow TV also included a near two hour conversation between Robert Mann and Paul Keating. I commonly find arrogance off-putting, and Keating has it in spades. However, the man’s ability to rise above the minutia and articulate a course toward a future for Australia in the world is impressive in comparison with the political leadership that has been our lot in the last 15 years. The interview should have been conducted by someone who was less complimentary than Mann, but stirring stuff nonetheless.

Oh how we need thinkers of the calibre of Chomsky and Keating. Mind you we need them on the conservative side as well so the rest if us can get drawn toward greater wisdom. I am genuinely energised by ideas to the extent that I feel my pulse quicken. But I am in love with contrast. No, that’s not even true. It’s the value of alternative perspectives that I appreciate. So, in contract to Chomsky’s thesis, I re-listened, this time online, to Mikey Smith, who’s talk was a highlight for me at the Do Lectures. Mickey’s story is of a hard-knocks upbringing on the coast of Cornwell. As Do Lectures’ Andy Middleton (@gringreen) tweeted, “beautiful life affirming stuff”. Do yourself a favour and listen to his talk, especially if you love the ocean and the waves.

Mickey’s exhortation is to live on the edge of reasonableness. Smile a lot. Remember things with a ‘photo or a scar’. His vision is not the stuff of grand theories but of grand living.

I enjoy the different modes of life. I immerse myself in the opportunities of the organisations I work with, helping them to do things better and do better things; engage deeply, explore, create, think, resolve, liberate. Switch mode: I revel in the ordinariness of the domestic routine. Family, food, home, cleaning, weeding, sleeping, exercising. Switch mode again: I bask in the wisdom of others via books, talks, TV, internet and other media. Giants of thought leadership who relentlessly inspire me to live, think, believe and act with greater integrity and insight. Switch: Oh how I love the hammocks of life. Stop worrying about doing, don’t have to justify pointless domestic pottering; just be. Sit on the back veranda, stay a bit longer. Hook up the caravan and leave town for a few weeks. Don’t listen to the news. Turn off the phone.

Noam or Mickey?

We’ve only got one life, but that doesn’t mean we have to live it all in one mode. Switching modes is an underrated skill. When you walk through the front door can you stop thinking about work? Do you care if you are offline? I’ve written about addiction on this blog before … we’re addicted when we can’t choose not to. Popular media quarantines addiction to drugs, alcohol and gambling. But social media, consuming/shopping, work and yes, even exercise are addictions that are readily observable anywhere you look, at least in my world. Are all addictions bad? Wrong question. We can be addicted to good things, but if we can’t chose to stop then our ability to switch modes is very limited and we are owned by them and lose our freedom.

Noam or Mickey? Wrong question. Better to ask, how can I live life to the full. A dose of ‘Noam’ and plenty of ‘Mickey’ will do me just fine. And this is not about balance. Balance is a crap concept. Balance implies that to really do a ‘Mickey’ you’ve got to reduce the dose of ‘Noam’. Not so. A much better concept is harmony.

A good life is one that has a range of modes that go together in harmony … they fit together, complement each other, and can cover extreme contracts. Striving for balance ends up with mediocrity. Finding modes of life that go together in loud and compelling harmony is real living.

I’m not a big consumer of news, especially not on the weekend so I’ve only just found out that Peter Roebuck, my favourite cricket correspondent has died. Death gets to you. Or in the words of Steve Jobs, ‘death is life’s change agent’.

25 years ago I had a malignant melanoma cut out of my right thigh. Although in my head I knew I had dodged a bullet, my youthful heart didn’t really think too deeply about it. A couple of weeks ago I had another one cut out of my left thigh. It’s a bit like having a baby … every one says that until you’ve had one you have no idea how it changes your perspective on what matters in life. Having cancer in your body is a bit the same I reckon.

Maria is away so rather than hang out with her, which is typical weekend stuff for us, I’ve spent a few sessions in one of our hammocks. Don’t you love the gentle rocking? Thinking. Snoozing. Now I’m at the kitchen bench (Sunday afternoon). I’m loving the sound of Bob Dylan wafting through the late afternoon. The smell of my red wine in a plain glass lubricates the harmonica. I’ve loved watching movies til late with Rachel. I’ve loved taking Johanna for a swim and watching her do butterfly better than I can. I’ve loved having the cover off the barbeque and making simple but really good food. I’ve loved eating the raspberry and white chocolate muffins that Heidi made yesterday. I even loved ironing Johanna’s school uniform for tomorrow.

(Dylan is singing about the great reversals – perhaps with Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as inspiration he croons; ‘the slow one now will later be fast, the first one now will later be last’)

Among all the recent obituaries for Steve Jobs we were reminded he said he was most proud of his family. Sad though that he said his motivation for having his biography written was so that his family understood why he wasn’t here for them as much as he wished. I choose a different path.

There is so much that seems like it matters. What do you look like? What stuff have you got? Who recognises you? How many twitter followers do you have? What’s your frequent flyer level?

Let’s change the world. Let’s advocate, serve, create, facilitate. Let’s be agents of change. Let’s lose sleep in creative worry about how to make society better. But let’s remember today, not on our death beds, that in the scheme of things, ironing that school uniform really matters.

While staying in London’s Earls Court recently we stopped in a few times at the local Marks and Spencer Food to pick up supplies. Apart from how cold it was inside, we appreciated the way the food was presented …  and it made we wonder about our supermarkets in Australia.

My hunch that we are being cheated was confirmed when I read this months Monocle issue on food. A myriad of exemplary food retailers from all corners of the globe are featured, including some types that don’t typically feature in a discussion on the future of healthy food such as a Japanese burger chain and middle eastern supermarkets. Australia didn’t rate a mention except for the following:

“It’s not all good news. On our frequent visits to Australia we have often wondered how a nation that has one of the best restaurant cultures in the world has some of the most boring supermarkets: Coles is like a 1970s throughback.” A column then slams the impact of the Coles / Woolworths duopoly.

For an amateur foody like me, it’s an embarrassment. Sure there are alternatives, in fact Monocle uses a stat. indicating that 30% of us (in Australia) never go into supermarkets. We get meat, fish and some fruit and veg from the Vic markets once a week and we pick up supplies at our local strip regularly, especially on the weekend. We are lucky to have a local bakery, fruit and veg, Indian supermarket and an IGA. But with essentially six adults to feed it’s hard to avoid the big supermarkets.

But apart from the pricing dimension, most of don’t realise we are being robbed of best practice food retailing, that includes transparency in the supply chain as well as the way it is presented to us. We don’t know what we don’t know.

Food is one of those big issues, around which there will need to be change on a global scale. Colin Tudge spoke about some of the issues recently at the Do Lectures. You can listen to his talk here. Sometimes, it seems we are happy just sticking our heads in the sand and pretending everything is OK.

In Melbourne, our news diet of late has featured the Occupy Melbourne protests, spawned by the Walls Street occupation. Similar gatherings are now in 900 cities around the world. Beyond the predictable media that loves to capture the antics of dreadlocked hooligans, those I’ve spoken to talk about intense and serious discussions about aspects of our society that are broken. They speak of a hunch that ‘things are not quite right’ and believe that the only way in which we can begin to develop systemic solutions is to talk, with different players around the [figurative] table. Isn’t that what a city square is supposed to be for Mr Doyle?

If, in our immediate lives and spheres of influence we are tracking along just-dandy-thank-you-very-much, then talk of ‘things being not quite right’ sounds a bit alien. But if all of us were to lift our eyes and ask questions about the long term impact of our choices and engage in genuine curiosity about what life is like for all sectors in our communities, then I suspect we would be less inclined to wish these agitators would go away. Improving the way food is produced and sold to us in Australia is just one issue for which there appears little political appetite.