Archive for the ‘Environment’ Category

ERGO YOUR IDEA

Tuesday, June 21st, 2011

The first time I experienced demand for new system architectures was when we had eight ‘information architects’ on the staff of our internet company, iXL, from 1997-2000, and they were booked solid  for most of that time. We all loved working with them. It was the ultimate white board exercise. They were the first people in the history of the world to have this particular job, and so, with absolutely no standards to which they had to be held, they excelled. People like Josh Galban (today, a product designer at MatchCraft), Ben Bratton (an urban architecture professor and writer-in-residence at UCSD) and Anuradha Sachdev (an experience designer at iCrossing) were among the infonauts who guided us toward  those early user experiences. Because there was no ’stock’ of knowledge about their nascent profession, they had no choice but to learn, and what they learned has been enriching them, their co-workers and their employers ever since.

I think there is a similar need for game designers in business today.

Networked structures and systems are as different from Industrial Age systems as a jellyfish is from a jetty. Networked companies must adapt. Continually differentiate their brands. Quickly recognize and act on opportunity in a constantly-morphing business environment.

Networked companies absorb and ride change like seagulls adjust to the wind.

Continuing our trip to the beach…a rigid, hierarchical approach to business has about as much chance in this environment as a sand castle does at high tide. The flow of change is that strong, that tidal. The new structures must be fluid, like the roiling environment they navigate every day. Fortunately for us human beings, we are 90% water. Fluidity is in our nature. It’s there. All we have to do is recognize and embrace it.

Games are among the most dynamic and productive structures that can be introduced to a system. They legitimize authority, lend themselves to accountability and encourage autonomy–energies that must work in concert for a networked organization to succeed.

At GameChangers, we design improvisation games to help clients achieve their business objectives. Our definition of a game is E-R-G-O. Environment, Roles, Guidelines and Objective(s). If you can define those, game on.

Ideas are cheap; execution is hard. Games require execution. An idea is like a game that’s never been played. We never consider an idea–for either ourselves or our clients–without looking at it through the ERGO lens. Whether an idea is any good or not is a a subjective discussion. The experience of playing a game, by contrast, can be analyzed objectively.

GC_GameGrfx1In a networked world, the power of an idea, its ultimate meaning, resides in ‘how much game’ it’s got. How much ‘play’ it generates. Games create focus. Elevate performance. Stir emotions. Reward innovation. They result in great stories. The value proposition is the size of Monstro the Whale.

(NEXT: POOR GAME, RICH GAME)

Fresh Quote

Sunday, June 12th, 2011
Jason Terry

Jason Terry

Interviewed after his Dallas Mavericks’ victory tonight over the Miami Heat for the NBA championship, their star shooting guard Jason Terry was asked how they did it, and he said (I’m paraphrasing)…

“We found a home for everybody’s stories. Everybody’s story came together here. Dirk (Nowitzki’s), Jason (Kidd’s), mine, Shawn Marion’s, Stojakovich, Berea, Tyson Chandler, Deshawn Stevenson’s–all our stories, together, made this happen.”

This is a really great expression of a team concept, especially, for a pro athlete in the wake of a big victory, when the cliche is to spout cliches, thank God and sponsors, credit the opponent for a hard-fought game, and then say something about going to Disneyland. A quote about the secret to the Dallas Mavericks’ success that they that they built a narrative consisting of all their individual stories? That’s an athlete’s voicing  fresh thought. And it’s an idea that can benefit any organization.

We saw this theme again seconds later when the Mavericks’ owner, Mark Cuban, deferred to the team’s previous owner and founder, Fred Carter, by asking Mr. Carter to accept the championship trophy. When Cuban was interviewed by the TV announcer, he couldn’t get the team’s coach, Rick Carlisle, to the mike quick enough. For someone known to love the sound of his own sound bites, this ‘best supporting actor’ role is a new one for Cuban, and he wears it well.

The Miami Heat, by contrast, are a team of individual stories that have not yet found a way to co-create a championship narrative. In the wake of the season, the stories about them will be all about divisiveness, disappointment and unfulfilled promise,  about who was responsible and who should take the fall.  The team’s stories, in other words, will continue to exist independently of one another, without really benefitting the franchise brand.

Your company, your brand, your team, isn’t a single story, it is a narrative composed of all your stories, and your customers’ stories, too. Evolved leaders like Jason Terry and Mark Cuban don’t inflict their story on the organization, but rather, create an environment in which individual stories can flourish in the shared pursuit of the business objectives.

Well-said, Mr. Terry! Well-played, Mavs!

Walking Western Avenue

Monday, June 6th, 2011

We live and work in what you’d call the northern edge of South-Central Los Angeles, in one of the city’s oldest neighborhoods, West Adams.  Western Avenue, the main north-south artery nearest us, is one of my favorite streets in Los Angeles. If you want to get a feel for this city, there’s no better way to do it than to travel the length of Western Avenue.  From the exclusive girls school up in the hills on its northern end to the hustle and flow of the ‘hood in the south, and every immigrant dream in between, Western is a ribbon of culture lining the belly of this beast of a city.

PFFlyers1I’m doing a photo essay on Western Avenue for a client of ours. In walking Western yesterday, I had all kinds of rewarding encounters. A street poet named Ron shared a poem he wrote, called Shine that was amazing; a restaurant owner grilling chicken on the sidewalk shared stories of his adventures in the real estate biz; a beauty shop owner opened the door after hours to pose for a photo; a kid showed me his python; another kid getting a tattoo showed me his cool shoes–PF Flyers, a brand I used to wear when I was a kid!; a clothing entrepreneur named Prince confided his strategy for pumping up slow sales; a dude named Noon and I had a half-hour discussion on privacy issues, the school system, the prison system, and the relations between the police and the people of South Central–all because he wouldn’t let me take his picture.

No matter how deeply we dive into virtual worlds and other dimensions of reality, walking around and having conversations with folks is still the best way to learn something you didn’t know.

As Viola Spolin said, “Act on environment, and environment will act on you.”

Quantum Narrative, Take 2

Monday, May 30th, 2011

(Note: This is a re-write of a post from January, 2010, which was a typically (for me) crappy and muddled first draft. The re-write is a contribution to an upcoming seminar on “Quantum Physics and Storytelling’ at the University of Bath, which came to my attention via the Storyhood site belonging to PhD candidate, Mike de Kreek, whose work focuses on the relationship between neighborhoods and stories.)

I.  Story

Watson and Crick

Watson and Crick

We create and share stories as a way of interpreting our experiences and making sense of the world. Stories turn chaos into cosmos. Our ’story sense’ guides us through life. Stories are the basis of community. They energize our relationships. Shape our careers. Filter our music. Impact everything from our spiritual beliefs, to the schools we attend, to the products we patronize.

It is through stories that we assign meaning to objects and events.

DNA, for example, became meaningful on a global scale in 1953, in a story told by scientist-storytellers Watson and Crick in a brand-new, double-helixed protein-based language. Before 1953, scientists knew the DNA story existed, but they didn’t have the tools to see it, the language to describe it, or the storytellers to make it mean something to the masses.

The discovery of DNA—as with any kind of breakthrough in human consciousness—poses an interesting ‘tree falls in the woods’ question. Before we tell a story about something, does it have meaning?

Was DNA ‘meaningful’ before 1953? Definitely. Had to be. Deoxyribose Nucleic Acid was doing its thing before we had the words to describe what the thing was. So if we weren’t telling stories about DNA, how was its ‘invisible meaning’ expressed?

II. Narrative

Here is my theory: Before it gets expressed as a story (and after, too) meaning resides in narratives.

A narrative is a flow of events connected to a theme.

A story is the conscious structuring of events to elicit meaning.

Before anybody ever put the letters DNA into a meaningful sequence, there was this theme, call it, ‘What Are We Made Of?’—a theme as old as the first time a mother wondered what made her babies look different from one another.  Any and all events connected to this theme comprise its narrative.

Before DNA came into being, its meaning was already present in the ‘What Are We Made Of?’ narrative.

Before 1953 and the birth of the DNA story, this potent narrative produced such meaningful artifacts as Mendel’s genetics experiments with pea plants, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemmings’ offspring, X-rays, ancient Egyptian seeds that had been placed in fermenting yeast to alter their growing traits—and the musings of every mother who ever wondered what made her babies look different from one another.

A narrative connected to a meaningful theme like ‘What Are We Made Of?’ has transformative potential.

We need this distinction between story and narrative because thanks to the internet, we have the tools to experience and the language to express meaning as never before. Things that meant something before the internet don’t mean as much now. And things that didn’t exist two years ago mean a lot today. We live an an Age of Meaning, and narratives, as the ultimate source of meaning, are ultra-important to our understanding of the networked world.

How narratives live in networks will a huge factor in how we connect and engage with one another, how we make sense of, and transform, the world in the 21st century.

III. Artifacts

In addition to stories, narratives deliver meaning in all kinds of other media—memes for example. Memes are not stories, but are important to how we connect with one another in networks. A hamster eating popcorn and a dancing baby are not stories. A rumor is not a story. A headline is not a story. A link isn’t. A tweet isn’t. A status isn’t. A sales transaction, in and of itself, isn’t. Yet these forms and many others can, like stories, hold meaning and therefore they have value. We call stories and all the other meaningful media generated by narratives ‘artifacts.’

Artifacts are memorable, shareable expressions of narratives.

The popular meme of a hamster eating popcorn is an expression of a narrative with a theme we could call ‘Loveable Pets.’ We smile at a dancing baby because it’s a quick glimpse of a narrative with the theme ‘Precocious Children.’

All narratives contain enough meaning to generate a practically limitless quantity of artifacts. What hangs in the balance is the quality of the narrative. Does it inspire or repress? Is it productive or reductive?

IV. Narratology

Our ability to store and experience narratives in networks has opened a new era in the ‘narrative sciences’–filmmaking, journalism, theater, business communication, publishing, branding, education, gaming, etc.—that mirrors what happened to the science of physics in the early part of the previous century.

‘Narratologists’ today are discovering, like Einstein’s community of physicist friends did, that stuff is connected in ways we had not previously had the ability to imagine. Networks abound with invisible and non-linear (the U.S. military calls them ‘asymmetrical’) relationships that have the potential to mushroom in a heartbeat into massive manifestations of energy with the power to create and destroy worlds.  Conceptual worlds. Virtual worlds. Physical worlds.

The distinction between story and narrative is also important because in a networked environment, it is increasingly difficult, perhaps impossible, for any one individual, organization or agency to script, and control stories and other artifacts efficiently. That is how business used to get done. When the number of communication channels were finite, ‘script-and-control’ models were optimal. This is no longer true. Your network’s appetite is bigger than what you can feed it purely in the form of scripted-and-controlled content.

Continual co-creation is essential.

V. Script-and-Control vs. Continual Co-Creation

With an infinite number of channels available to us, narratologists can put new, more flexible story strategies into play. In this environment, ‘co-creation’ models are optimal. Continual improvisation and collaboration are required. In the new narrative-focused models, the emphasis is not on authorship, but on participation. Communication is not a matter of control, but of liberation.  Only a co-creation model can generate enough meaning to satisfy a robust network’s appetite.

A big reason Walt Disney decided to give up filmmaking to focus on his new theme park in Anaheim (coincidentally right around the time of Watson and Crick’s DNA discovery in 1953) was that, unlike his films (”Snow White” had a jiggy couple of frames in it that bothered him the rest of his life), the theme park would, in Walt’s words, ‘always be in a state of becoming.’ With the opening of Disneyland, Walt Disney got into the co-creation business.  Together, Disney and the guests at his theme park explored a narrative you could call ‘The American Dream.’

Since its opening in 1953, Disneyland has hosted over 600 million visitors, and it’s safe to say that most of those guests have generated artifacts in one form or another that depict ‘the American Dream.’ It’s a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow. It it’s a Small World after all.  It’s an actor’s life for Me!  And a pirate’s life! And a Bug’s Life!

Over the past 56 years, the content Disneyland paid for—in the form of photo shoots, television programming, cast performances, etc.—is Dwarfed by co-created content. Google lists ‘about 58,000,000’ search results for ‘Disneyland.’ How much of that do you think Disney paid to produce?

As Viola Spolin (coincidentally born in Chicago just like Walt Disney), said of improvisation, advice Disneyland and its guests have taken to heart, “Act on environment, and environment will act on you.”

How much meaning can we liberate from a narrative in the form of stories and other artifacts? is a question we should ask ourselves, in one way or another, at the beginning of every working day.

V. Characteristics of Stories and Other Artifacts

StoryBalls1They unfold in linear time, with a beginning, middle and end.

They are designed.

They are made for sharing.

They are repeatable.

They are authored.

They have texts.

They tend toward genres and formulas.

They are inhabited by a finite number of players.

They are iterative.

The provide context and structure.

They are mappable in conceptual, physical and/or virtual geography.

They are hierarchical. Characters and objects in them gravitate toward high or low status, events toward high or low importance.

They are ‘causative’ in two ways:

1)  Everything in a story happens because of something else;

2) They can cause predictable emotions and reactions.

In the sense that they are causative, artifacts are Newtonian.

VI. Characteristics of Narratives

NarrativeManifold3_bwThey have no beginning, middle or end.

They have infinite beginnings, middles and ends.

They are not bound by time, space or geography.

What is observed of them changes depending on the observer.

They can occupy two or more places in space at the same time–they happen here at the same time they’re happening across the room or the planet.

They are generative.

Themes are the ‘glue’ that hold them together.

They resemble the playing of a game by a vast number of players (think of the artifacts generated by a popular MMORPG and you get the idea) more than they do the dynamic between author and audience.

A narrative is non-causative, that is, everything is related, but how and why things relate depends on the environment and the players.

They emphasize thematic consistency over literalness.  There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to explore a narrative.

Narratives are quantum phenomena.

VII. What’s the future of narrative?

In a complex communication environment, narrative, and the artifacts it generates, are the best way to resolve complexity, and in fact, this is what Gen Why? kids do extraordinarily well.  Their sense of narrative is unprecedented, and their personal narratives are the stars they steer their ships by.

In an interesting post on filtering, Tim Kastelle and John Steen explain that there are five kinds of filtering: Naïve, Expert, Network, Heuristic and Algorithmic, and, further group these five genres of filtering into two categories, Mechanical and Judgment-Based. That’s How we filter. Narrative is What we filter. Most people give no more thought to how they filter than Grandma gives to the air filter in her car. What they think about and act on, the way Grandma steered her Cadillac to a particular destination, is narrative.

The science around all this is still in its infancy. You can see glimmers of it in transmedia, massive multiplayer games, distributed production models, theme parks, social media, alternate reality games, activist brands, smart badges, business in China, remixes and mashups, augmented reality, micro-loans and the video of your dance in the musical, Hair.

As to what the future of narrative is, it’s a trick question, because there is no future to narrative.  Narrative happens in the Now. It is the world as we experience it in this second. This heartbeat. This breath.

The Future and the Past belong to stories. The Now belongs to narratives.

Like Disneyland, narrative is always in a state of becoming.

VIII.  Ze Zen

We are spider-like, connecting our webs and heeding their vibrations.

We are dowsers, feeling for the tug of an invisible stream.

Everything is a coincidence. This is not a coincidence.

When the story is ready, the storyteller will appear.

Letter from an Angry Mother

Wednesday, April 13th, 2011

Dear Children,

I know you are busy with your lives and your careers and such, and you know I’m not one to meddle or nag.  Live and let live, that’s my motto.  But as your Mother I’ve got to tell you that your behavior lately has been hurtful to me, and to the rest of our family. You seem to have forgotten that I am a living, breathing being, with real feelings. And right now my feelings are hurt. Badly.

I held you in my arms.  Fed you.  Gave you a nice home. Helped you grow into the people you are today. I guess I have failed, because the people you are today have wounded me.  I want to scream.  Sometimes I do scream.  Of course you don’t hear me, you only hear what’s coming out of your own mouths. How about listening for a change?

I made it possible for you to get an education, so you can do whatever it is you do for a living (I still don’t understand it!???) and yet you take me for granted.  Like I am nothing to you.  This is the treatment I deserve?  This is your response to a lifetime of love?

I do not ask for your thanks.  A Mother’s job is a thankless one.  I accept that.  Spare me the holidays.  Show me some appreciation, that’s all.  I will not be ignored! I will not go gently into the night!!!

How about I cut off your inheritance? You have no idea how close I am to doing it.  You’ve already blown through most of what I intended to leave you, anyway.  Take, take, take, and never give back, that’s you.

If you’re not going to show me respect, I promise you I’ll start taking back what’s rightfully mine.  How did you like it when I took back that piece of Japan last month? That hurt, didn’t it?  You felt that, didn’t you?  It is just the beginning of where this thing is headed unless you get your act together.

At one time, the family owned a million or more varieties of apples, did you know that?  What are we down to now?  Six?  Seven?  It took me ages to save up my precious minerals collection.  You walked off with it, and you’re not bringing it back, you think I don’t notice? It took me 10 million years to build the family oil business, and you’re going to blow through it in a couple of measly centuries?  Some nerve.  Frack me?  No, frack you!!!

The Dodo was my favorite tsotchke , you probably didn’t know that, did you?  Of course you didn’t, because it’s always all about you.  I loved that animal, it made me laugh every time I looked at it, and then you broke it.  I miss my Dodo.  It was one of a kind.  It cannot be replaced.  Too late for an apology.  Don’t even try.  I’m not forgiving you for that one.

Mustard gas?  That any children of mine would make such a thing is one of my greatest heartaches.  Agent Orange?  First of all, I resent like hell that you named it after one of my favorite fruits.  Second, I still have a rash in Southeast Asia, one of the most beautiful parts of my body (one of the few I have left) because of it.  Asbestos?  Awful stuff.  Zylon B? If only it were the bad science fiction it sounds like, instead of the awful reality it was. Still gives me nightmares. And then to top it all off, you take innocent little hydrogen, and turn him into a weapon?!! Honest to Gaia, where do you learn such things?  Who are your friends?

Chernobyl?  Nuclear reactors and vodka? That was a bright idea. First, you poison me with  radiation, then you invite tourists to see the results?  Why?  So you and your kids can laugh at the featherless geese?  Have the geese not been humiliated enough?  (Yes, they have!)

Is anyone ever going to take responsibility for the mess you made in Bophal? Someone did it, and someone is going to clean it up, and we are going to wait right here until that happens, I don’t care how long it takes. And if one of you doesn’t own up to it, all of you will.

How is that cancer thing working out for you? Nobody had cancer before you brought it home, we didn’t even know what the stuff was. Now we can’t get rid of it. What’s the matter with the genes I gave you?  Nothing is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re weaving a tangled web, that’s all I can say. What are those hard red things you call tomatoes, anyway?  The corn was just fine until you came along. What is so bad about four teats on a cow? Why must you try to make six? Stop meddling with my DNA! It’s my responsibility. Keep your noses out of it!

PlanetEarth2Another thing—my air conditioner isn’t working. Why? Because I have you for children, that’s why. You broke it with your incessant smoking, and I don’t see you offering to fix it. Fine! Tell the police they’ll find my body in the kitchen, propped against the open refrigerator, where I went to get one last breath before my lungs turned to ash.

My water!  What has happened to my beautiful water? I turn my back for a minute, and you’ve dumped so much of your crap into it that all I hear is complaints from the other family members. The dolphins and whales won’t shut up about it. The salmon don’t spawn like they used to.  The octopi are pissed.  I’m not even going to go into what the plants have to say. I’ll say it for them. Thanks for nothing!!!

Have you no idea how much pain I am in?  I’m sick.  Last year I had a leak in my gulf that didn’t let up for months, and my turtles and birds are still hurting.  I get the cold sweats.  I cry for no apparent reason, until I can’t cry any more. The doctors don’t know what’s causing the vomiting, which I do with awful regularity.  My nausea is the only constant of my existence.

You have hollowed me out.  Drained me.  The only feelings I have toward you are angry ones.  Maybe venting like this is what it will take to get your attention, or make me feel better anyway.

Don’t make me lose my temper!  The last time I lost my temper, I killed the dinosaurs, you know.  That was me.  Boom!  Just like that. Gone in a heartbeat. It was an accident.  The Creator slugged me and I slugged back, and the poor dinosaurs got in the way.  I am not a cruel woman, as you often claim (don’t tell me you don’t, I’ve read your diaries!!!)  Anger can be a cruel thing, though, the reason being you never know who’s going to get hurt by it. The dinosaurs happened to get caught in the middle of a quarrel between me and the Creator and that was that.  You do not want a repeat of that scene, I promise you.  Or maybe you do.  Maybe we’re going to find out.  That’s how angry I am.  Your behavior is a slap in my face, and don’t think I won’t slap back. I will. Promise.

You’re the only species that has made a practice of killing your own kind, did you know that?  The rest of the family are disgusted by this. To make matters worse, you glorify it in your games and your stories like it’s a good thing.  I hang my head. When I think that children of mine are doing this, I want to die. I do.

You cannot leave your spent rods and your empty drums and your plastic gyres lying around the house like it’s the morning after a frat party and not expect to suffer the consequences!

You cannot not pump me full of your potions like I’m some daft heiress you’re poisoning for her dowry and expect to get away with it!

You cannot not take what is mine and pretend it is yours without waking up someday to the reality that you are a generation of thieves!

Here’s an idea for you.  Leave!  Move out of the house!  If this is the way you’re going to treat me, take your smokestacks off the roof and your jet skis out of the driveway and get out!  The rest of us can use the room. The coyotes would be happy to have your bedroom.  Do you think the trees care whether or not we have cable?  Probably not.

You are my Children, and this should not have to be our relationship. Truly, though, I am at my wits end, at a loss for what to do about the horrible way you are treating me.

Please do better.  There’s still time to heal these wounds, but not a lot.

Love,

Your Mother

Daily Paintworks Japan Challenge

Tuesday, March 29th, 2011

Daily Paintworks, an online community of working artists, has raised over $21,000 for Japanese Tsunami victims in just ten days with a project they call The Japan Challenge.  They have done it with what we call a productive game.  Here’s the game analysis:

Environment:  Artists studios; Daily Paintworks website, with the starting point being a page hosted by artist Keiko Tanabe.

Roles: Artists, Buyers, International Disaster Relief Players

Guidelines: Listed here.

Objective:  Raise money for the communities in Japan that were devastated, and still are, by the Sendai quake.

I get jazzed by projects like the Daily Paintworks Japan Challenge for a number of reasons:

Sekura III - Watercolor - 8.25x11.5 in. - Artist: Keiko Tanabe

Sekura III - Watercolor - 8.25x11.5 in. - Artist: Keiko Tanabe

It demonstrates how art has the power to connect us. As we rely more and more on technology for the processes by which we communicate, we cannot let the fact that communication itself is a human thing.  The nerve endings of the network are human.  At GameChangers, we call this human-to-human quality of communication ‘heart.’ Nothing connects across the techno-chasm like art.  It speaks a universal language. It keeps our humanity from getting marginalized, or gamed out of the communication equation entirely, by the mechanisms of the virtual world.

It rallies a community. There is something especially inspiring about a game like the Japan Challenge that rouses a community like Daily Paintworks out of ‘business-as-usual’ mode.  When individuals and communities are stirred to become more than what they were before, so are we.

It is a beautiful yes-and. It deals with the realities of the scene directly.  Keiko Tanabe of Daily Paintworks has family in Japan.  Art production and merchandising in a ‘challenge’ format is something Daily Paintworks already did.  It was embracing these two realities that led to the new reality of $21,000+ in ten days.  To change the game, don’t try to come up with a whole new game, tweak a game that’s already there.

My Grandmother Was a Witch…

Tuesday, March 22nd, 2011

Back in the Dotcom era, I’d often get asked to speak on panels about this new thing called the Internet.  The moderator’s final question to the panel would always be something like, “Where’s it all going?”  When my turn came, I’d begin with the line:

“My grandmother was a witch…”

It would get everyone’s attention, for sure.  After a beat filled with lots of blinking eyes, I’d explain that my grandmother knew how to dowse for water with the forked limb of a peach tree, and when I was seven or eight years old I’d asked her one day when she was burning trash in the rusty barrel behind her house how she did it, and she said, by way of explanation, “I’m a witch.  Didn’t you know that?”

After she put it like that, I noticed things about her that, to my young and fertile imagination, seemed like total witchcraft:  How her flowers and vegetables grew to enormous sizes–chrysanthemums like volleyballs and corn on the cob as long as your forearm.  How she would talk to her animals, her hens and her cats, and how they’d talk back.  And how the same voice that could chat with cats could throw off the pitch of an entire congregation singing a hymn in church on Sunday.

I’d tell the audience that I had come to believe that what my grandmother knew was just a tiny part of a whole body of folkways and connections to the Earth that must have, at one time, been whole.  I suggested that centuries of science, rationality and organized religion had shattered and scattered this body of knowledge to the ends of the earth, but that it still existed, as little slivers and remnants, like what my grandmother knew.

I said that what I thought would happen is that the people who are the keepers of these little pieces would be able to use the internet to find one another, and re-connect what they know, and reassemble those slivers in beautiful new ways, and that maybe these new ways would be what saves the planet.

I’d get nothing from the audience.  Blank looks.  Crickets.  Maybe one older woman in the audience nodded in understanding, but that was about it.

And then someone  else on the panel would say something like, “I think e-tail is going to be driver for growth in the tech sector in the foreseeable future…” and you could almost hear the audience sigh with relief as the talk got back to terra cognita.

Today, when I get asked to speak about social media, I will sometimes tell this same story, about My Grandmother the Witch.

Today, almost everyone in the audience nods in understanding.

Next chance you get, plant a peach tree or something.  We’re going to need it.DiviningRod1

Chrysanthemum

Saturday, March 12th, 2011

Japan is a chrysanthemum.  Many petals.  One flower.  The meta language of the chrysanthemum is deeply rooted in Japanese history and culture.  It is the official mark of the Japanese Emperor’s family. It symbolizes happiness.

A disaster like the quake that literally shifted the planet on Friday in Japan gets us to focus on what is most important.  At times like these improvisation—a system for generating positive outcomes from unforeseen circumstances—is especially critical.

JapanQuake1I have a feeling that in the coming days, we are going to see the power of the flower.  As the Japanese people face the challenges confronting them, we will see the creative potential of the group mind, especially when a group as large and connected as the Japanese are are given a sense of purpose like the one they have now.

We will see that improvisation consists not of making it up as you go along, but of making focused and productive moves at every opportunity.  Here, for example, via our friend, Michelle James (@creatvemergence), is a list of suggestions from Time Out Tokyo, for how the Japanese people can respond to the crisis.

Already, we can see that there is structure to the process defined by TOT.  The objectives, environment, roles and rules of the game are clear.  Process is clean.  Everything is achievable and scalable. In short, the advice consists of:

Give money–being present in spirit is more important right now than being present in person;
Give blood–to be healthy is an obligation to care for the infirm;
Conserve electricity–the people are in this together.

Though it’s seldom as sudden and concentrated like it was on Friday in Japan, natural destruction is happening at all times, all over the world.   Lives end.   Rivers flood.  Mountains slide.

At the same time, nature’s creativity is expressing itself with equal energy.  Lives begin.  Rivers heal.  Mountains rise.

How can we improve the odds that our creativity will triumph over our destruction?

We can play the Chrysanthemum Game.  Find our purpose.  Believe in happiness.  Bloom as one.

Chrysanthemum1

‘Yes and’ Artfully

Wednesday, March 9th, 2011

The basic building block of improvisation is ‘Yes and.’  The premise of every statement improvisers make is one of agreement and addition.  Scenes move forward by ratcheting along with the ‘tool’ of yes-and like a climber finding holds on the side of a mountain…

MountainConnect1BYes, we are here, and I see a place we can grab over there.  Yes!  A new crack reveals itself, and we grab it.  We see another hold and we make the move.  Yes, and now we’re experiencing the mountain from a new perspective.  Multiple new holds appear, and one hold at a time, with each move accompanied by a thousand little calculations that are faster than conscious thought, we move up the face of the mountain.

Beginning improvisation students tend to use the phrase ‘Yes and’ literally.  Skilled players discover infinite ways to ‘Yes and’ without necessarily using the words themselves.  This keeps technique in the background where it belongs.  A scene in which every player begins every contribution with the words ‘Yes and’ will get sing-songy in a hurry, and that’s not what we want.  We want nuance.  Refinement.  We want technique to be second nature so that it becomes invisible to our audience, and we can pay attention fully to the realities of the environment and our fellow players.  That’s gamechanging leadership.

Gamechanging is the art of doing what’s best for the scene.  That means knowing a lot of different ways to yes-and.  GameChangers yes-and artfully, with technique taking a backseat to the scene’s objective.

They can do it with a smile and a supporting comment.  Or

A reaction and a correction. Or

With constructive criticism. Or

By giving gifts to their scene partners and making them look good.  Or

By seeing and adding to the environment. Or

By joining in the shop talk of the scene. Or

By keeping the scene focused on its objective. Or

By supporting the scene from offstage. Or

By making declarative statements instead of interrogating scene partners. Or

By energizing and heightening the emotional level of the scene.  Or

By emphasizing convergence on a solution when a divergence of ideas gets unwieldy. Or

By doing what our friend Kristen Parrinello calls ‘invisible work’ (@invisiblework is her Twitter handle), the little moves that are so subtle as to be invisible to the audience.

Walt Disney used to call yes-anding (and Pixar Animation has taken to calling it) ‘plussing.’  Add something to the scene, and if you don’t have anything to add, get off the stage.

Not that you shouldn’t practice yes-anding by literally using those two words.  You should.  Use them as a kind of warm-up or rehearsal, like you’d practice the basic forms in ballet or the scales in music.  When the game is on, and you’re in the heat of a big scene, ‘Yes and’ may not literally pop up in your dialogue, but the technique will be there, invisible and inaudible, doing its work, ratcheting you and your team to the summit of whatever mountain you choose to climb.

Where Are You Stuck?

Friday, February 18th, 2011

WAYSScreenShot1This is a demonstration of how connections are made in the Networked World.  And some observations about how Creativity and Destruction go hand-in-hand.

WAYSScreenShot2Because GameChangers followed and contributed (seven blog posts) to the narrative of the Chilean Miners…because we were curious about how the 33 miners happened to be wearing Oakley sunglasses when they emerged from the mine after their 69-day ordeal…because we made a connection with Jonathan Franklin, the correspondent for The Guardian, who was the only print journalist with complete access to the rescue site in Copiapo, and was responsible for the Oakley connection…because Penguin Press has just published Franklin’s book, 33 Men, the definitive account of the miners’ ordeal…and because a lot of companies are asking him to share his experiences and insights…

We have co-created a new GameChangers program inspired by Franklin’s observations during the 69 days at Copiapo.  The program will be offered in the U.S. and Europe.  We will present it for the first time on March 2, at a Global Leadership Conference sponsored by Diversey, Inc.  We are rehearsing it this Sunday in New York City, when Jonathan Franklin and I will meet for the first time in person.

We cannot stress this enough:  Narratives are the ultimate organizing principle in the networked economy.

33 MEN - 3dTraditional news reporting and the internet made us aware of ‘Los 33.’  Social media–Facebook, Twitter, this blog, etc.–helped us track and participate in their story.  Skype, email and telephone made personal conversations and collaboration between us and Jonathan Franklin possible.  The Applied Improvisation Network helped us extend the program to Europe.  Geo-locating apps–I can’t even tell you what they were– helped us locate and provide directions to our rehearsal studio in NYC.  I used a virtual concierge to book my travel.  And of course personal relationships made things possible that no technology or platform could.

Through it all, it was the narrative that guided us.  With a narrative as your guide, the choice of platforms becomes an objective process, a series of consistently logical decisions.  How best to participate in a narrative is an entirely different, and more productive, discussion from how best to deploy a platform.  Choose narrative!

Interestingly (and typically) the mainstream media, beginning with 60 Minutes last Sunday, have focused on the more sensational aspects of the ‘Los 33′ narrative—on the fact that in their darkest hours, when they had no idea if they’d ever be found, a few of the miners began to think about cannibalism, or that since their rescue they’ve been suffering from PTSD (this is news because?…).  In Where Are You Stuck? we focus on the positive aspects of the rescue.  On the heroic qualities of the miners and their rescuers.  Teamwork.  Altriusm.  Sacrifice.  Leadership.  Creativity.

In every crisis there is opportunity.  In every crisis, there is destruction.  For something to be created, something must be destroyed.  Doors open and close in unison.  Shiva is the god of creation AND destruction.  Productive change entails creative destruction.

When the times are a-changin’, getting stuck can become a chronic problem, because individuals and organizations get frozen deciding (or avoiding deciding) how to respond to the changes they are experiencing.  The challenge confronting anyone looking to get ‘unstuck’ is all about focus.  Will your focus be on the creative or the destructive aspects of the change?  Will you see the opportunity, or obsess on the loss?  Will you bang on closed doors or walk through open ones?  Will you cling to the status quo until you realize, perhaps too late, that what worked in the past isn’t necessarily what will work in the future?  Interestingly, this is the challenge facing the Miners today.  Working deep underground isn’t an option any more.  That is a closed door.  What got them out of the mineshaft isn’t the same process that will get them out of the ‘mindshafts’ in which they find themselves trapped today. When context changes, everything changes.  Including the nature of heroism.

What made the Miners heroic in the eyes of the world is still within them, but like anyone else, they will have to change their game to suit their new situation.  This time, unlike the 69 days they spent in the mine, they have a choice.  Choosing to move consistently in the direction of creativity, opportunity and the newly-opened door is a challenge each of them will have to confront in his own way.

Check out the Where Are You Stuck? program, and fill out the response form to let us know how we can best help you.