Mark Stedman (6:18)
The day episode one of this show came out, I was up a mountain taking magic mushrooms. I didn't receive quite that eloquent a talking to, but I did discover that I was tremendous company and that the world was kind of like a big screw and that you just had to keep following the thread down anyway. I don't know if Bucky was on shrooms when he heard this voice, but it kicked off a journey of discovery into the many and varied ways he might benefit mankind again. What absolute lad. The late 40s and 50s saw him work on the geodesic dome designs he's probably most famous for. He didn't invent the structure, but popularized it and was contracted by the US military to build small geodesic buildings which are more energy efficient than square ones. Fuller was an environmentalist and saw the Earth as a system. He coined the term Spaceship Earth to describe such a system and how mankind needed to club together to conserve the planet's finite resources. He also coined the term synergetics, a method for trying to understand the ways nature organizes itself. And it's this theory of systems that we're going to get into. So please pull down on the lap bar, secure your belongings, and keep your hands and arms inside the car at all times. If you look to your left, you'll see a working scale model of a mysterious machine. We don't know what the machine does, but it has three important components, an input, a process and an output. Now we can see the inputs going into the machine. There's the energy needed to keep the machine running, the people shoveling the raw materials into the furnace, and the materials themselves. These are all necessary parts of the input. And they're all complex machines of their own that work independently but come together to make this bigger machine work. Now we move on to the process. That's the shoveling of the materials, the grinding of the gears, the humming of the valves, and the mangles that wring out all of the reclaimable matter from the raw materials. And finally, at the back end of the machine, we have the output. Tiny cubes pooped out of the machine, shrink wrapped and ready for consumption. If you'd like to pick up a sample of the end product, you'll find it in the gift shop. Okay, so how does any of this apply to us? Well, we are like that machine, a system, and our work comprises inputs, processes and outputs. If you start to divide yourself and your work up in this way, it becomes a lot easier to understand how we keep the whole thing running. So let's start with inputs. If you do creative work, you can't do that. If you're completely knackered and lacking any kind of inspiration, you can't, as they say, pour from an empty cup. When you start to see yourself as a system, you can recognize that this isn't just just Instagram self care bollocks, but something necessary for the machine, that is you, to function. Energy and ideas are really the two biggest inputs you need, but time is also a factor. And all of these inputs come from other systems which are themselves a collection of inputs, processes and outputs. That's why I've been wanging on about how people matter in your productivity story too, because how you work with them affects how your own system functions. One of the ways Julia Cameron, author of the book the Artist's Way, recommends you keep your inspiration topped up is by going on what she calls artists dates. These are things you ideally do on your own and that are solely there to help you fill up on inspo. It could be going to a film or to see some stand up, grabbing a dirty burger at the food truck you've been meaning to check out, or wandering around your local art center or gallery. The film doesn't have to be good, the standup doesn't have to be award winning, and the art doesn't need to make you scratch your chin and look all wistful. What matters is you're taking stuff in for your own machine to chuck around like forgotten socks in a dryer. But as I've said before, dedicated time to work in your craft is also an important input. If you're looking to create something outside of your day job, you need to carve out some time where you can do that. If you've got a partner and you can work on your project while you're both in front of the tv, that's much better than cloistering yourself off in another room. Again, the other people in your life are systems, and you might be part of their input too. If you don't have enough of the right inputs, you can't move on to the next stage, which is the process, the actual doing of the doing. Here you'll turn those raw materials, your time, your energy and your inspiration into. Into something. Remember, though, that these materials are finite. If I want a coffee from my little Dolce Gusto pod machine, it's not enough to put the pod in and turn on the machine. I also have to make sure the water tank is topped up. Otherwise the thing is going to cough and splutter and I'll probably end up with a cup full of frothy smoke. This, hopefully, though, is the fun bit. This is where you're actually doing your art, where you're in flow and where the work doesn't necessarily feel like work. That's not always the case, of course, so if you're not feeling it on one particular day, you might end up using more energy than usual. So if you find your process isn't running smoothly, try and think of your inputs as little glass tubes full of different colored liquids. A red one for time, a green one for energy, and a blue one for inspiration. Delete as appropriate. If your color block. If the process is stalling or something's gumming up the works, check your tubes to see if something's running low. That process will make it easier for you to diagnose what's wrong. One of the components of systems theory is that of equifinality. You see, this theory came up as a response to the prevailing management style at the time, which was essentially Taylorism. We covered Taylorism a bit in our discussion on Table 2 of the Forgotten Women of Productivity History. So I won't go into it in detail. Suffice it to say that equifinality is the idea that there is actually no one right way to do something, which is in direct contradiction to Taylor's idea that every little task has at its core one correct method. Let's say you live in the city and you need to take a trip to the beach. However far away you are, you need to plan how you're going to get there. Under Taylorism, there should be only one correct route, because everything's been broken down into its simplest parts. Systems theory, on the other hand, recognizes that the conditions for the ideal route might not be conducive. So you might have to pick an alternative option. That adaptability is pretty useful for us when it comes to our own productivity. If you don't get to choose your optimal work working environment, are there some reasonable adjustments you can make? If you're in an open plan office and you need to concentrate on summarizing a report, but the hobbit from it is flirting with Janet from Accounts Receivable. That'll never work, by the way. They're just not compatible. Then maybe you can pop on some noise canceling headphones for a bit. If your boss insists everyone's ear flaps remain open, no amount of scrunching up your face and huffing and puffing is going to make your job any easier, however simple the process of putting one word in front of the other might seem. And what might sound like a chaotic office environment is actually the result of lots and lots of interconnected systems, each with their own inputs, processes and outputs. Chaos theory is inextricably linked to systems thinking. So because I can't afford that clip of Jeff Goldblum from Jurassic Park I'm going to demonstrate the idea of the seemingly unconnected being very much connected by explaining why it's harder to buy gummy bears when people stop buying cars. Remember the Suez canal debacle from 2021? That plus Covid led to a lack of demand and then a shortage in semiconductors. Most of the parts of a car that are in in any way advanced are controlled by microprocessors. Even the key that unlocks your car has a teeny tiny computer in it. So when car manufacturers began ramping down production due to a lack of semiconductors, something else was reduced too. The slaughtering of cows for leather. If you're not making any new fancy cars with luxurious leather interiors, you don't need to buy the leather. Which means these cows don't need to meet the business end of a cleaver. Now, a byproduct of the slaughtering of cows is gelatin. It's too expensive to kill cows just to harvest it. So manufacturers of gummy bears and other sweets buy this waste byproduct from the companies that slaughter cows for meat and leather. And thus, because fewer people were buying cars and a 224,000 ton vessel got wedged in a canal, fewer cows were being slaughtered, which made gummy bears too expensive to manufacture. To the output of your creative and knowledge, work might not just be the thing itself, the song or the painting or the recipe, but the stuff you've learned in the process. Maybe you were fiddling with the reverb setting on your guitar amp and you discovered a sound that didn't fit this particular song, but would probably work in another one. Or you mistook salt for sugar when making your morning latte and you inadvertently invented salted caramel, in which case you deserve a knighthood. Back in episode five, we discussed the seesaw between boredom and anxiety and that our brain is constantly seeking a state of homeostasis or equilibrium systems operate in much the same way with positive and negative feedback pulling and pushing us on and off track. Positive feedback helps a system grow. You do a great gig, more people check you out on Spotify, your numbers go up, you release more music, people follow you online and bring their mates to your next live gig. And while negative feedback can compound, just like positive feedback can, one type can turn into another. For example, your boss might get short term rewards by screaming at her employees. This has a positive effect on output, but not for very long. After a while, the team become more and more resentful and they get burned out. Which of course knocks the whole thing off course. So if we think of our machine more as a cycle, we can see how input goes in, work happens, we get an output and then from that output we get feedback. That feedback then goes back into the machine and the cycle begins again. This is one reason it's so important that you get your creative work out into the world. If you write beautiful poetry but you never perform it and you're too afraid of judgment to let anyone read it, you'll never get the feedback that might add some fuel to your next attempt. If I make a dodgy meal and my guest doesn't like it, I might be momentarily hurt. But it's not like I'm never going to cook for them again. I'll either make accommodations for that person in the future, or if their critique had merit, I'll adjust my ratios next time I cook something similar. It's all just feedback. So this notion I've been talking about since episode seven, about how we're all just people, man, isn't just my hippie showing. And like Matthew and I talked about in last week's episode, the systems we come up with for doing our best work have to work for other people too, not just for ourselves. And I know it might feel a bit cold and utilitarian to see each of us just as a machine. But remember, everything from the atoms that make up the platelet in our blood to the planets that we wind their way around the sun are each part of a system. Systems are organic. They're natural. They're how a plant can turn photons of light into chemical energy. Each one needs careful maintenance, but with the right conditions can result in pretty amazing things. Undo is written and produced by me, Mark Stedman. You can find more resources at Undo FM Systems, which is where you can also sign up to support the show and get ad free episodes from just $3 a month. Stick around after this quick break and I'll tell you my dirty little secret about this podcast.
