pattern wisdom

Peter Senge et al published the classic The Fifth Discipline Field Book  in 1994. A little section called Ladders of Influence was really helpful for me as I started to navigate the corporate world in the early 2000s, particularly as it related to the behaviour of executives. These days, as I think about pattern wisdom and the lens through which I make sense of the world, it serves as an ongoing warning reminder, that making leaps of abstraction, or what Senge et al refer to as 'going up ladders of inference' is a clear and present danger. The illustration from p243 makes sense of the idea: from The Fifth Discipline Field Book, Senge et al, p243 Here are a couple of examples from the book. These examples remind us that, making interpretations of patterns, especially when it comes to forming judgements about people is a fool's game. There is always so much more to a story than the observable 'facts'. When it comes to other people, the only patterns we have observabl

I didn't really like English studies at school, but I loved the year 11 unit called "transformational grammar", in which we learned to use an almost mathematical perspective to break down the structure of sentences into their component part. The idea, developed by Noam Chomsky and other earlier linguists,  was that once the structure of grammatical sentences was understood, you could then be infinitely creative while maintaining a 'sensible' sentence. Language patterns. It wasn't until decades latter that I would learn the word that was originally attached to this field of study: "generative grammar".  I had first heard the word in an entirely different context, in an international forum promoting genuine dialogue among people with different perspectives. Peter Senge called it "generative dialogue". I was intuitively drawn to the idea of generative dialogue even though I understood very little about it. As I dug deeper and tried to understa

I told her I had magical powers. I was standing in the kitchen of a colleague's house with his young daughter. The other adults were preoccupied so I decided to play a little game with her. I'd never been in their house before, but I told her I knew what was in each of the three drawers beside us. I covered my eyes and asked her to pull out the top drawer. "There are knives forks and spoons in that drawer" I said. She didn't seem very impressed. I covered my eyes again. Open the second drawer I said. "Are there are cooking utensils, wooden spoons,  ladel, egg flip, tongs, things like that?" "There are!" she replied, sounding a little more engaged. OK, let's try the bottom drawer. "This will be a bit harder", I say, "I'll have to concentrate." I feigned thinking hard. "OK, open the drawer", I say. "Are there rolls of cling wrap, baking paper? Maybe some tea towels and oven mitts?" "Wow",

It was 2011. I had never heard of him, but when I heard someone I respected say "I read anything Christopher Alexander writes," I was curious. When I got back to Melbourne (the comment was made in a little town in Wales) I scoured and searched and eventually located a hard cover copy of the 1100 page 1977 classic  A Pattern Language in some obscure bookshop. I still remember paying an extraordinary amount of money for it ($174 if I recall correctly). Maybe a bit reckless, especially given I hadn't even read a review; I wasn't even sure what it was going to be about, but sometimes I have these intuitions ... and for reasons I can't properly explain, they are very rarely wrong. My bookshelf if full of books that have nudged my thinking, authors who have given voice to ideas, concepts, frameworks or arguments that have shaped my own view of the world. But I don't think a single text has had as profound an impact as A Pattern Language on, not so much 'what I

I have taught myself to cook by recognising patterns rather than following recipes. I stumbled on The Saucy Spice Co. when away in our van many years ago. I loved the product and when we got home found a local stockist and started to use it regularly. The concept is simple, combine in a packet a particular collection of spices with a recipe. Typically, the things you need to add / buy included onion, stock and/or coconut milk along with meat and rice. After I had been using it for a while it dawned on me: every recipe uses the same formula.  1. Sauté onion in oil. 2. Add the spices and heat for a minute or two until aromatic. 3. Add meat and brown. 4. Add liquid (maybe some tomatoes) and cook for an hour or two. 5. Add a few garnish-y, soft flavours and serve with rice or bread. Ta da. Now I appreciate that there are nuances, and trained chefs might be horrified, but I figured I now knew the basics of curry making.  I could now go the fridge and my spice drawer and make up recipes. I

The first time I made paella, it wasn't a disaster, but it felt like I was simply hoping for a good outcome rather than creating one. The second time was better, but I struggled to get the volume of stock and the intensity of the heat right. By the third time I understood the variables so much better, and managed to get a socarrat that I was proud of. We have been lucky enough to have spent winter weeks in northern NSW over many years with a big bunch of friends, doing not much apart from drinking cups of tea, surfing and sitting around nattering, alongside keeping the work fires burning. Integrating work and recreation is always tricky, especially because these days the mobile device ensures work conversations and issues are always in your pocket. The first week I typically find myself checking emails and messages throughout the day. By the second week, I find I can segregate more easily, so I am less distracted by work when I'm doing more social things. By the third week I t

My first encounter with personality-typing was not a good one. At university I came across a basic framework based on four temperaments: Sanguine, Choleric, Phlegmatic and Melancholy. By answering a series of self assessment questions, respondents were assigned a dominant and secondary temperament. It came at a time when I had some friends who I admired. I was drawn to them, not only as mates, but as people who aspired to be like. We, and a whole bunch of other people we knew completed the assessment survey. My two mates both had Sanguine Phlegmatic profiles. They were outgoing, likeable Aussie blokes who had a certain nonchalance about authority. Me on the other hand, I was Phlegmatic Melancholy. I didn't like the stereotypical description of my type, which would have been OK if, on discovery of my typing, my mates exclaimed, 'Yep, that is so you!'. It would be much later that I came across a quote attributed to American actress Pearl Bailey, " There's a period of