The Intersection of The Art of Jazz and The Science of Listening

If movement (not to mention innovation) is difficult -- whether in enterprise or on a personal front -- difficulty listening might be part of the problem.  We spend considerable time on the topic here; but this presentation by jazz musician Stefon Harris offers insight into the critical role listening plays in progress and innovation. If you love jazz, this will be especially enjoyable; but there's a lesson here for all.

Big Hairy Audacious Goals Versus The Devils You Know

Bill Taylor’s HBR Blog post today -- “Don’t Let What You Know Limit What You Imagine” -- strikes at the heart of a strategic planning challenge for professional service organizations in today’s marketplace.  Begin with bright business minds, add expertise and deep experience, blend with volatility, unpredictability and a touch of fear, and you have a recipe that can result in the devils we know defining the way we think, act and communicate.

You know the saying -- Be careful...the devil you know may end up being better than the one you don’t know.

When much is at stake -- not to mention those moments when crisis looms -- the desire to study history, examine the past, and leverage experience is understandable.  The great challenge -- in fact, one of the things that differentiates those who actually inspire, innovate and change the future from would-be leaders -- is balanced perspective.

Case in point — as the father of a soon to be 20-year old daughter, it’s difficult for me not to speak completely out of personal experience when I offer advice on dating.  ”I know exactly how immature boys your age are because I was one!”  Few would dispute that my perspective is rooted in fact.  But the problem (apart from the fact that my target audience has limited interest in this message) is that this one-dimensional perspective does little to facilitate progress.

What does this have to do with organizational thinking, planning and communication?  Simply this: without exception, when couched and “toned” only by data points of the past, an organization’s mindset, planning and message will lack dimension, limit vision, and seed faulty action.

Absent a perspective that allows for (and prompts) vision, communication is either a recitation of history or an account of current conditions. If that data is less than stellar the chances are great that the devils we know have far too much influence.

Consider this: had the framework for Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address or poetic Second Inaugural been couched in the reality of recent history, or even the moment, his speeches would simply have decried the nation’s condition, and mourned those yet to die. Instead, Lincoln used the past to give birth to a new vision.

Had Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. addressed the throng gathered on the Mall in Washington, D.C. speaking only out of experience, the “I have a dream” refrain would never have passed his lips.

And in the wake of the USSR having won the race to orbit the earth, President Kennedy dared to stir the US with an unthinkable vision — to put a man on the moon.

Take a look at what these examples have in common.

• They do not gloss over or ignore the realities of the past;
• They broaden perspective;
• They speak of possibilities for the future;
• They call for participation.

Put another way — what Lincoln, King and Kennedy did was transcend data, and seed a vision. Some might suggest that known data points and vision represent opposite perspectives — that the former is grounded in fact and the later is right-side-of-the-brain creativity at its best . . . spin at worst. Yet, pivotal moments are often marked by the communication of a leader who, unprepared for the past to define the future, is able to articulate a new view of the horizon.

Pivotal moments — whether in commerce, social enterprise, political endeavors and even personal adventure – come when decision makers understand that most of us are anxious to be done with the devils we have known.  We simply need someone to help us with the vision of what might be.

Most of us are still stirred by a dream -- by the challenge inherent in what Jim Collins called Big Hairy Audacious Goals.

Proposal: A New Language For Progress

One of the many gifts my parents gave me was a deep appreciation and love for music.  All kinds of music really.  My mother, possessing a genius I had no way to appreciate at the time, would let me, Keith, Paul and Phyllis have complete control of the family stereo for our own preferred musical preference -- from The Beatles to the Stones, and beyond.

Well, almost complete control.  She was a huge fan of the weekly WJR (Detroit radio) broadcast of Karl Haas’ program, Adventures in Good Music.  For that hour, she cranked up the volume and filled the entire house with what I now know to have been her seeding the work of the masters in our experience.

And an appreciation for classical music somehow, in spite of every attempt to prevent it, seeped into my consciousness.  Though I can’t speak for my brothers and sister, I suspect they’d say the same thing.

Tonight, as iTunes shuffles my library, an amazing spectrum of styles and artists reach deep into the heart of my being, make me quiet, and send chills through my entire body.  James Taylor, Lady Antebellum, Gershwin, Sting, Handel...all strike a chord.

Each chord resonates in a way that defies description or explanation; but is, inarguably, a part of me.  Thanks to Mom and Dad.

This is the power of music.  And I remember in my youth believing that there is something in music that, given a measure or two, is capable of bridging any language and cultural gap, of creating harmony out of dissonance.

With the (continual) news that those entrusted to govern in the United States are unable to make any progress on not only domestic, but pressing global issues, one wonders whether we might arrange for a closed circuit broadcast the world’s music into boardrooms, legislative chambers and seats of power everywhere.

Just a thught.  How much less could possibly be accomplished?

Pausing To Remember What Really Matters

(This is a reprise of a Post from December 2010. An idea worth reconsidering today. Happy Thanksgiving, All.)

Some things simply are not important in the scope of things.

Mac or PC? Important to the respective companies, to be sure; but give me either and I’ll get the job done. Number of Twitter followers or Facebook friends? Great possibilities; but not near as important as how you treat those you’re connected to -- online or face-to-face.

Pro sports contract negotiations, college bowl selections -- 90% of what fills an hour of sports talk radio or sports center highlights -- important to the individuals and enterprises they touch, yes. But is the amount of time invested by many of us on such issues just a bit out of proportion?

Red state, blue state, left side of the aisle, right side of the brain -- are the things we invest so much time cussing and discussing -- are these things as important as the time we spend on them?

This is not to say that purchasing decisions, the thrill of victory and the body politic don’t warrant attention, or to suggest they have no importance.

But (thankfully) every so often I am reminded that it is more important to be quiet for a moment, and consider what really matters.

Time with friends and family really matters.

Experiencing what happens to human beings when we give of ourselves -- this is important. Nothing will change a community more quickly. I would certainly do better to shift some of my sports or political talk time to efforts here.

And simply pausing for a few minutes -- maybe for a day -- to consider the very few things that really matter -- this is one of the most important things we can do today.

Listen. Do You Want To Know A Secret?

For anyone of a certain age (we won’t be any more specific) those words most likely prompt a mind’s earful of a catchy tune as recorded by the Fab Four.  (If “Fab Four” is meaningless to you, skip to paragraph 2.)  The lyrics of the song, simplistic as they might be, belie one of the key -- maybe even THE key criteria to successful relationship: be quiet; listen up; and you are likely to hear something of value.

Makes for a nice song.  But practically speaking, we don’t much care for the discipline that is required to really listen.

Don’t believe this?  Look around, and consider the precipitous decline in the art of conversation.  E-mail, texting, social updates (in as few as 140 characters, to boot) -- all make it infinitely more easy to browse, skim, filter and create shortcuts for messaging.  Key words and optimized phrases have become the shorthand of ideas.  Seems like this used to be thought of as “hearing only what we want to hear.”

And if one is really plugged in, technology will do much of the work for you.

Really listening, it turns out -- the kind of intentional act that puts aside agendas and preconceived notions -- is hard work.  It calls for focus and concentration.  It has one goal: to learn something.

Not to sell, disciple, convert or win.  To learn.  Because learning is the door to opportunity.

(As an aside, if your sales force or customer facing team is having difficulty identifying new productive and profitable opportunities, they may not be listening.)

This is what we tell our children: listen and learn.  It is -- to a lesser degree to be sure, but to a certain degree nonetheless -- the way we behave in the earliest stages of an important personal relationship.  Talking less.  Listening more intentionally.  Looking for insights that combine to form a bridge to relationship.  Alert to the most promising opportunities for connection.

The unfortunate tendency -- in the context of personal and business relationships -- is to far too quickly believe we know enough (if not, all).

And with “research” complete, the focus on listening shifts to a preoccupation with what we now want to say.

We agonize over brochure copy, web content, Twitter posts, and a message strategy for Facebook, Linked In and now Google +.  With so many ways to deliver our message, what we say becomes the focus.  Even in conversation, research points to the fact that often, while feigning listening, we’re really thinking about what we need to say next.

Few are the strategic discussions around the execution of a feedback mechanism.  Fewer still the times that the listening potential of social media or the firm web site appear on a meeting agenda.  These are, after all, messaging tools.  So convinced are we that connecting and communicating with the market is about messaging, that the absence of robust listening tools is scarcely noticed.

And we certainly don’t consider the listening opportunity inherent in social media.  (How many organizations do you know that follow clients or key customers on Twitter -- not to talk to them, but to listen to what they have to say?) 

This is not to diminish the need for or value in quality messaging.  It is, of course, critical.  It is to at least whisper into our collective marketing ears.

Want customers / clients for life?  Listen closely.  Given the time and opportunity, the market will tell you the secrets to their loyalty.

Who Is Your Marketing Team?

In search of an odd-sized air-filter, Darlene had a customer experience on one end of the spectrum.

During a lunch break, she and a friend headed to the neighborhood big-box hardware outlet where a courteous clerk pointed to aisle 10, containing a large inventory of air-filters, certain to include the size she sought.  The two found the inventory; but alas, no 12 X 12 filter -- the sought after size.  Darlene’s friend, ever the optimist, suggested they order the filter from the store, save shipping costs, and pick it up in a few days.  Ever the skeptic, Darlene was not hopeful as they headed out, searching for assistance.

Reaching the front of the store, they encountered the same courteous gent that had directed them to aisle 10.  An observant soul, he commented “You are empty handed.”  Darlene, offering the clerk the opportunity to win, informed him “we didn’t find any 12 X 12.”

The clerk -- the face of the company to these two shoppers, the marketing-team-of-the-moment -- given a pretty easy opportunity to enhance the brand of the retailer, replied with an articulate “Wow! Out? Well I don’t know what to tell you!”  No “hey, how about we order you a supply right now!”

Unwilling to reward this level of service by providing a clue as to the ideal marketing/customer service response, the two women left the store.  An on-line experience would be more rewarding.

That’s one end of the customer experience spectrum.  At the other end, a recent hotel visit.

I had checked in for a conference; but a killer headache made it impossible for me to think of anything other than taking a couple of Advil.  After getting to my room and rifling my suitcase and backpack, I came up empty.  Only one solution: the hotel sundries store.

As I headed down the hall I passed an elevator and almost ran into a bellman pushing his luggage cart.  “Good afternoon, sir.  How is your stay so far?”

I replied something to the effect that I’d be better as soon as I found some Advil, and inquired as to directions to the sundries store.

The short version of the story is that this bellman, having bumped into a guest in HIS hotel with a headache, insisted on fetching appropriate medication, and delivering it to my room.

The difference in these two experiences?  An organization that understands that everyone is a marketer -- a company that underscores the value of every touchpoint.

Simply put, the hotel believes, and teaches employees that anyone or anything that intersects with the guest experience is an opportunity to market, to enrich the brand, and to seed loyalty.

I’ve told that story dozens of times to scores of travelers, meeting planners and customer experience enthusiasts.  And I’ll tell it hundreds more times before my memory begins to fade.

The organization that isn’t investing in every intersection with a client / customer -- from retail to B-to-B, and yes, even professional service groups -- from sales exec to consultant to the clerk or bellman -- hasn’t learned one of the basic realities of the new marketplace: everyone in the organization is a member of the marketing team. 

Reflections On The Moments That Remind Us What Matters Most

There are some moments that demand more than their fair share of attention.

Or perhaps the truth is that some moments have a way of forcing us to focus on the things that deserve much more of our attention.

Every parent I know experiences this focus-adjustment the first time we hold, look into the eyes, or hear the voice of our child. Even in the throws of apprehension, uncertainty and outright fear, there is a clarity in that moment. An understanding that, notwithstanding all that swirls about us, few things will ever matter more than the care and nurture of this person. Thankfully there are additional moments along the way that remind and refocus.

Not all such moments of focus and clarity are born of joy.

We approach the tenth anniversary of the unthinkable terror and unspeakable tragedy that captured us the morning of September 11, 2001. In that hour, and in countless moments following, the hole in our hearts reminded us that -- in spite of all that consumes our days -- few things really matter. For a season we were kinder to each other.

Between the joy of beginnings and the hole in the heart that comes with loss, if we’re lucky, we experience our fair share of moments that remind us that what matters most is the relationships we share, the lives we touch. What we do here endures. The compassionate ear, the unconditional gift.

Relationships transcend time and space. Nurtured, the rewards are immeasurable. This is what matters most. Most of us know it. We just lose our focus.

We will always be distracted by jobs, mortgage payments, the politic of the moment, and even the game of the weekend.

But can we find a way to focus on what matters most, apart from the moments of extreme? Might we be more attuned to the everyday moments that vie for our attention and underscore our best intentions?

The reward for devoting attention to the things that really matter? The only thing that endures.