The Non Verbal Nature of Values

Values are really important with clients who want to make any kind of change.  That’s because values operate like a form of compass, which can help us navigate uncertain or new territory.

I have worked with organisational and personal values for many years, but for a long time  my work with clients in the area of values produced results like this:

  • I value my family, for the love and support they offer me.
  • I value my work, because I love to feel part of a team.
  • I value coming up with new ideas to problems.

Now, these are all incredibly worthwhile.  Yet, somehow they also lack depth or resonance.  My own value of ‘meaning’ in work can sometimes feel like a commodity, a word which begins to lose its meaning over time.

At the last ACT World Conference, Kelly Wilson showed me how limited this verbal view of values was.  Values must be described verbally, but that is only because words are all we have to articulate to others what we are experiencing.

Wilson brought this idea to life by asking us to identify someone in our lives who we really value. He asked us to write a couple of lines that describe what we value in them.  Mine was my Mum, and the description went something like this:

I value my Mum because she has always supported me, and been there for me in difficult times.  Despite struggling with her own problems, she has always given everything to me, and she is kind, human and a real Christian.

This describes well some of the things I really value about my Mum.  Yet, the words strangely lack impact.  They are commodities, well-worn grooves in my mind, like a pre-rehearsed package of sounds.

Then Wilson asked us to think of a specific moment that encapsulates what we value about that person, and then to recall that moment through our senses.

Mine related to a time when my Mum was a single parent and I would hate the time when it came for her to leave to go to work.  I wrote:

I recall the days when you would leave for work early in the morning and I would feel a rising sense of dread as you prepared to leave.  Then, at the moment you came to leave, terror that you might never come back.  Even writing now, I feel it with a beating heart and clammy hands.  You used to sing ‘Save all your kisses for me’ to me, but I can see myself now, a tiny figure consumed by worry that you, like my Father, may simply walk out of my life and never return.

But you always did return.

And when you did, I remember the hug you would give me; deep and long and cold as your winter coat pressed on my hot cheek.  I remember how you smelt of fresh air and the outdoors, and I would breathe it all in with long gulps.  And I would know, I was safe and I was wanted, and it was going to be OK.

Do you see a difference? Values – the things we value in life – need words to describe them but words cannot describe them.  Not fully.

Our human experience is primarily sensual, but over time it becomes more verbal. In some ways we need to de-learn our verbal impulse to experience life at first hand. We need to clear words out of the way to allow life to happen in its rawest, most vigorous and vital sense.

And that’s what values connect us with – not things we think are important, but things we feel as important.  A small but powerful difference.

How Can Job Design Improve Workplace Health and Productivity?

A great presentation by my old supervisor Frank Bond is published on the Institute of Employment Studies website.

What’s interesting about this kind of intervention is that when combined with ACT, the benefits of organisational redesign are also enhanced (Bond, Flaxman & Bunce, 2008).

What this study found was that increasing job control significantly improves mental health and absenteeism. But these effects were enhanced in people with higher levels of psychological flexibility.

Those with higher levels of psychological flexibility perceived that they had greater levels of job control as a result of the intervention, and this greater perception of control led these people to experience even greater improvements in mental health and absenteeism.

Psychological flexibility therefore allows people with more job control to better notice, where, when and the degree to which they have it, and therefore better recognise goal-related opportunities.

Brain: ‘Do More, Sleep Later!’

Our brains evolved to scan the environment, seek out possible problems and solve them.  Our brains did not evolve to say: ‘tell you what, I’ve done enough analysing / thinking / scanning for today, I’m clocking out’.  And the brains that did do this, were soon weeded out.  Probably by lions.

So, the non-stop brain is highly adaptive for survival situations.

But what happens if, like now, the imperative is not survival but productivity, and where the information we receive is increasingly limitless?

Well, the response is the same.  We naturally keep scanning the environment, seeking out problems and attempting to explain or resolve them.  And of course, this takes time.

So fast forward to today and we are naturally feeling very busy.  We are trying to cram more in.  Not all of the side effects of this are negative of course, but I want to focus on just one that is.

I came across some Australian research recently which simply looked at the number of hours we work vs the number of hours we sleep.  Here is the result:

Now, I don’t know if this is a bad thing for productivity per se, but I suspect overall it is, especially if we are working in a highly distracted, disengaged way.  But I do know about some fairly conclusive research from the University of Warwick, which found that people who slept for less than 6 hours per night were almost 50% more likely to die from heart disease and 15% more likely to die from strokes.

Our minds naturally seek meaning and coherence from the world around us.  But our worlds have expanded and we have become addicted to activity.  As Ian Price argues, today we even get status from being busy.

So in an age of limitless information, our natural responses may no longer be adaptive.  We may need to re-think our thinking in order to thrive.

Self Compassion in Business

A few years ago, I’d have laughed at the idea of using compassion – let alone self compassion – in a business context.  It seems so incongruous.

But now I think it’s indispensable.

I think it could be argued that the main problem with the workplace is lack of compassion. Showing compassion is often equated with weakness, or letting ourselves or others off the hook. In fact Paul Gilbert has shown that we fear that we will become lazy if we are too compassionate, so it is seen often as a bit soft, unbusinesslike.

Yet I would argue the alternative is far less successful. Effective leadership, organisational design, employee engagement, meaning in work, resilience – all of these start with compassion. And the evidence is growing to support this view:

  • Students with most self compassion were least likely to procrastinate (Williams, Stark and Foster, 2008)
  • Self compassion predicts resilience / re-engagement with goals following failure (Neff et al, 2005) *
  • Self acceptance predicts willingness to receive and act on feedback (Chamberlain et al, 2001)

As Kelly McGonigal outlines here, self compassion correlates with lower depression, social anxiety, anger, judgment, close mindedness, less unhealthy perfectionism, greater social connection and empathy. And not only that, but self compassion can be taught. The big question is how.

Many cognitive therapists would start with disputing or changing negative thoughts about ourselves. Yet I would start with context, and acceptance. And for this, no one says it better than Ken Robinson:

“Human beings were born of risen apes, not fallen angels.  And so what shall we wonder at? Our massacres, our missiles, or our symphonies?

The miracle of human kind is not how far we have sunk but how magnificently we have risen.  We will be known among the stars not by our corpses, but by our poems.”

Psychological Flexibility and the Miracle of Istanbul

This is a story about what Liverpool Football Club has taught me about happiness, pain and meaning.

I love Liverpool FC, but I am also what’s known as an ‘armchair’ fan. That is, I support Liverpool but don’t go to the match very often.

In 2005, Liverpool staged the most astonishing run to the final of the European Cup that has ever been seen. With a truly average team, and defying huge odds, they beat many superior teams along the way, including incredible comebacks (Olympiakos) and heroic performances (Chelsea).  It was incredible, and now they would play the mighty AC Milan in Istanbul.

In nearly every position AC Milan had the better players than Liverpool – in fact the miracle was they were there at all.

At the time, I remember that I really wanted to go to the final. I thought about it very hard but I worried about the cost involved. I even found a ticket and a convoluted journey that would have got me to Istanbul in time.  I would have loved to have gone, but in the end I narrowly decided against it.

Why?

Because deep down, I thought Liverpool would lose, and I wanted to spare myself the pain of being there when they did.

And as it turned out, I was right. Because at half time in Istanbul Liverpool were 3-0 down. They were outclassed as predicted, and I was gutted, watching on TV.

But I was also a bit relieved I hadn’t gone, because I couldn’t have handled the pain of watching my beloved team humiliated on the biggest stage of all.  Plus what a waste of money!

Beloved….

For some people, their love of Liverpool is so great that they go to every single match. Irrespective of where it is, how they’re feeling, who it’s against, whether Liverpool are likely to win, they will be there. They love Liverpool, and they live that love. They feel the pain when the Reds lose, but they keep turning up, through the wind and rain.  At halftime in Istanbul, these people sang You’ll Never Walk Alone.

Just after half time Liverpool scored a consolation goal.  Relief!  They had avoided humiliation.  But then, they scored again….

What followed is easily the most astonishing match in any sport I have ever witnessed. Liverpool eventually triumphed amid scenes of utter joy, elation and incredulity – which I had witnessed from a bar in Farringdon.

Just imagine what it would have been like to be there.

And there we have it.

Happiness and sadness are not opposites, but twins. They either grow big and strong together, or they stay small and weak together. By being willing to be sad, I grow my capacity for happiness. By accepting pain, I open my life to joy.

For the real fans in Istanbul they will always be able to say; I was there.

For me, I have the satisfaction of having played it safe, lessening my pain.

Not got quite the same ring has it?

The Sun Always Rises – Hemingway

This struck a real chord for me, especially as I am going to be on a plane tomorrow:
“We stare at our computer screens cataloguing our lives unaware that every important decisions has been taken by one goal: the avoidance of pain. We look out of the airplane window reviewing our belief system and realise that it’s an anti-belief system, a rejection of our values.

How did I get here?

We don’t see the consequences of one bad decision – I’ll eat this, I won’t go for a run tonight, I’ll take this job and pay off my loans, this job will give me confidence.  But each decision makes it less likely we’ll do the ideal, and the effect mounts”.