From time to time, I’ve made notes about my working set up, noticing that things change a lot over the years. Inspired by my friend Peter Rukavina, but with substantially less detail, here is my current set up.
Infrastructure
My office is located in a dormer on the upper floor which faces south and is surrounded on three sides by windows. to the west I can see the Queen Charlotte Channel, the waterway that separates Bowen Island from West Vancouver. To the west is the forested slopes of Mount Collins, and in front below me are my neighbours in the Seven Hills neighbourhood of Bowen island. In the dsitance Apodaca Ridge rises on the other side of Snug Cove.
I have a standing desk and an Ikea stool that i occasionally rest on. Our internet comes through Shaw, a switch I made this week after months of deep disappointment in the service levels and technical assistance of Telus.
Hardware
My workhorse is a mid-2013 MacBook Air and a 1Tb Seagate external drive for back up and file storage. I have an iPad 2 which I mostly use for reading magazines at breakfast, and as a cook book for cooking. I have an iPhone 5c and a Kindle Paperwhite for reading. I have gone back to taking notes in a Moleskine and photographing them for posterity.
Things get printed on a wireless Canon printer.
An old iPhone 4 sitting on a Bose system provides high quality tunes and I have a set of Bose headphones for serious listening in the evening.
Elsewhere in the house we have a XBox and an iMac, both of which are used for Netflix viewing and gaming.
Desktop software
Everything runs through Evernote. To do lists, meeting notes, web bookmarks, pdf’s, articles and blog drafts. Evernote is my word processor, where I compose the first drafts of anything I’m working on and is my brain. If I need information I check there first to see if what I’m looking for is something I’ve forgotten. Next to that Safari, MacMail iCal and Skype are my most used desktop applications. Itunes of course for music and podcasts.
Web software
Mostly I’m off google these days with two exceptions. Many of my colleagues and my partner use Google Docs and I run my mail through Gmail mostly for the great spam filtering ability. I rarely use the web interface for Gmail, but am grateful for it when the laptop fails. Dropbox is my file storage system, containing a complete backup of everything I am working on, synched to my devices. I use WordPress on my main web site and Blogger for Bowen Island Journal. Lately we’ve been using Weebly for quick and dirty site set up and we’ll probably be relaunching our corporate site on Weebly as well. Inreader is my current feedreader on both the Mac and the iPhone.
Phone software
I’m a heavy smartphone user. When I was a kid I dreamed of owning the eponymous device from the Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and when I got my first iPhone I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Apps that get heavy time there include:
- Calendar
- iTunes
- Accuweather
- Podcasts
- Sticher
- CBC Radio
- Songza
- Genius Scan
I’m still trying to decide what to do with my photos. Currently they are automatically uploaded to DropBox and I periodically go through them and cull, saving the best ones in nine different folders where I have a collection of pictures of family, friends, Bowen Island, and some of the adventures I get up to, sorted by year. I am wanting to keep these more in the spirit of how we held onto photos in the old days, and have an intention to print these out for safe keeping as hard copies.
Social infrastructure
I get out everyday here on Bowen. Regular morning espresso at The Snug, and lunches at Rustiquie, The Snug or Artisan Eats. Sometimes I bring my laptop and work through email. At some point I like to get out for a walk or a paddle. I like to end my day when I can with something marking a threshold. Sometimes this is an hour of contemplation and meditation at Rivendell, a pint at the pub or a walk with my partner around the lake here on the island. I try not to work evenings when I’m home, saving that time for cooking, hanging out with the family or socializing with friends. I exercise by walking and hiking, and it’s no trouble for me to walk the two miles round trip to thew Ruddy Potato for fresh food for dinner. I’ve been trying to travel less the last few years and making the most of my time when I’m here at home is important to me.
I love working from home and working as a consultant, but I do miss having a regular schedule. I play in a local co-ed soccer league and sing with a couple of choirs as well as making music with friends when I can. I find myself too often turning down invitations because I’m travelling or working, and have to work hard to limit my commitments. Recently I’ve been appointed to out local Economic Development Committee so that is where I am putting my volunteer attention these days.
The only regular commitment I have in Vancouver is to the Vancouver Whitecaps FC, with whom I have been a season’s ticket holder for four years and a dedicated member of the Southsiders supporters group. Otherwise I try not to leave here unless someone else picks up my ferry fare.
That’s the set up. It all makes my work possible. What’s yours?
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Another one today from whiskey river:
Today I want
to resolve nothing.
I only want to walk
a little longer in the cold
blessing of the rain,
and lift my face to it.– Kim Addonizio
New Year’s Day
Tell Me
Happy New Year.
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whiskey river, for many many years, one of my regular blog reads, has been sharing some good stuff from Rebecca Solnit’s book A Field Guide For Getting Lost. Here’s something from today:
“How do you calculate upon the unforeseen? It seems to be an art of recognizing the role of the unforeseen, of keeping your balance amid surprises, of collaborating with chance, of recognizing that there are some essential mysteries in the world and thereby a limit to calculation, to plan, to control. To calculate on the unforeseen is perhaps exactly the paradoxical operation that life most requires of us.”
I think this will be something of a theme for me in the work I am doing over the next year, as it has been in one way or another over the past 15.
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Spellbound this morning watching Sean de hOra, a famous old Irish singer, performing his version of the Irish air Bean Dubh an Ghleanna (The Dark Woman of the Glen). He is a gorgeous interpreter of the “sean nos” or old style of Irish singing, which is deeply emotional and moving evoking in the performer something of the duende that Lorca wrote about in flamenco. In both flamenco and sean nos, there is a sense that supernatural creatures are near by, and there is tradition that links the singing of these songs to the kidnapping of the singer by fairies, so powerful is the song.
For these reasons – the weight of emotion being communicated and the fear of being lost – a tradition in sean nos singing is to have someone engage in “hand winding” with the singer and you can see this in this video. It is a gesture of amazing empathy, and it brings the singer into the fullness of the expression of the song without him fearing being lost or taken away.
Here is Ciaran Carson:
In the ‘hand-winding’ system of the Irish sean-nós, a sympathetic listener grasps the singer’s hand; or, indeed, the singer may initiate first contact and reach out for a listener. The singer then might close his eyes, if they are open (sometimes he might grope for someone, like a blind man) and appear to go into a trance; or his eyes, if open, might focus on some remote corner of the room, as if his gaze could penetrate the fabric, and take him to some antique, far-off happening among the stars. The two clasped hands remind one another of each other, following each other; loops and spirals accompany the melody, singer and listener are rooted static to the spot, and yet the winding unwinds like a line of music with its ups and downs, its glens and plateaux and its little melismatic avalanches.
What do you notice here?
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This afternoon Caitlin and I were in a delightful conversation with new colleagues that ranged across the landscape of the work we are all trying to do in the world, supporting leadership, supporting quality and addressing the ineffable aspects of human experience that pervade our work on leadership.
And in the conversation we found our way to the idea of friendship.
In our Art of Hosting Beyond the Basics offering we are exploring friendship as a key strategic pillar to transforming the nature of engagement, organizational life and community development. And today as we were discussing friendship as the highest form of accountability, I was reminded of my work 15 years ago in the BC Treaty Process.
Back then I was employed as a public consultation advisor for the federal government. It was my job to talk to non-indigenous people about the treaties that governments were negotiating with First Nations. Most of the non-indigenous stakeholders I had to meet with were hostile to the treaty process, to put it mildly. Some of them were just downright furious, driven by the white hot heat of completely irrational racism, uncertainty and disruption to their lives. At their worst, hey shouted at us, threatened us with violence and tried to have us removed from our jobs. these were not folks that I would ordinarily try to meet with, let alone befriend. But I found I had no choice. No amount of rational discourse about rights, law, policy and economics could persuade these people that treaty making was a good idea.
And the truth is that I didn’t have to have them think it was a good idea. But I did need them to understand what was happening and I did need to offer them many many ways to engage with what we were doing, even if they were 100% opposed to it. It was my professional obligation as a person responsible for the mundane daily workings of a democratic government, and it was my moral obligation as a human being who saw a group of people in danger of being dismissed by their government for their opinions, no matter how odious those opinions were to the government of the day, or how opposed those opinions were to government policy.
I realized that the only way we were going to create lasting agreements that gave First Nations the best possible future was to treat the noin-indigenous stakeholders as human beings. And that meant that I quickly abandoned my professional guise of talking to them as experts in their field and instead I adopted a stance of friendship. Instead of asking them questions I was interested in answering, I asked questions about what they were interested in: logging, ranching, fishing, making a living, what they did in their spare time, what was important to their families.
In due course I found myself hanging out with these folks. Having dinner, going on long drives through the British Columbia wilderness to visit clear cuts and mining sites. Joining them on board their fish boats and in their pastures, hanging out in local hockey arenas watching junior teams from Quesnel and Prince George and Powell River ply their trades. I ended up playing music with people, drinking a lot of beer and whisky and meeting up with folks when they were in Vancouver. It became social. We developed friendships.
And in the end I believe it helped to transform the atmosphere in BC from an angry and bitterly divisive climate to one where folks were at least tacitly okay with treaty making, if not outright supportive. My seven colleagues and I and our counterparts in the provincial government worked hard at developing these relationships.
Friendship is not something that we set out to create. It is an emergent property of good relationships and good collaboration. When you do a few things together that end up being – well – fun, then you begin to experience friendship. And in the end when times turn a bit hard, that friendship will see you through, helping to sustain the work you have done.
It is not perfect by any means, but those three years spent in the late 1990s befriending folks all over BC proved to me that no one is above friendship, and that the results of dedeicated and personal relationship building are essential to a humane society.
What passes for “engagement” these days is so professionalized and sterile that I think it threatens the very fabric of the kind of society that we live in. Society by definition is an enterprise that connects everyone together. “Public engagement” that does not also include the capacity for personal connection is a psychotic and sociopathic response to the need to care and be cared for. And when we get into hard places – think Ferguson, Burnaby Mountain and even Ukraine – it is friendships, tenuous and strained, but nevertheless intact, that offer us the way out.