CALLING THE WIND
I’m writing a new course on adaptability which I’m finding fascinating (meaning an enjoyably difficult challenge).
I started by feeding material I’ve written on the topic of adaptability into Google’s Notebook AI. It does an amazing job integrating and synthesising up to 10 sources of data. Fun fact, it also produces podcasts. If you’re interested in what that sounds like, Check out our podcast about Gen Z – it's entirely AI
After thorough revising and re-prompting, I was chuffed that in a couple of hours we had completed what would have usually taken me days to finish. But actually, I’ve since spent days reworking it, inserting more of my own knowledge and references to ideas I’ve gathered over the years that AI would never know. ‘Large language model’ AI agents like Notebook basically aggregate the most prevalent ideas and opinions from public sources online. It will never access the random and obscure stuff I have collected and stored in my memory.
Nor will it ever be as non-linear as me. Thankfully. It can’t make creative connections between seemingly unrelated topics. I could argue that in starting out talking about adaptability and then switching to AI and then coming back to writing more original material I am demonstrating mental agility. Or I could just accept that I’m easily distracted.
One of the things I hauled from my mind was this story:
My brother talks of sailing in a local regatta with some America’s Cup sailors. For the most part it was a normal sail, but you could tell by the ease and precision with which the guys did the basics that they were well practiced. At one point, they decided to kick it up a notch, and as they slipped into a more intense mode, one of them said to my brother “OK Johnny, call the wind”. John had no idea what they were talking about. So he did the obvious thing and shouted out to starboard “hey, wind, come over here!”. The sailor patiently explained how the patterns on the water reflected the different strengths and directions of the wind. John still had no idea what he was talking about, but he soon started figuring it out, and he did get invited to sail with them again, partly because he provided the humour.
The moral of the story is twofold: The sailors rapidly adapt to the changes in strength and direction of the wind, but the second layer is John’s willingness to try something that was brand new to him, and his readiness to learn from the experts around him and embrace learning in the heat of the moment. Sure he made a fool of himself (not for the first time; he’ll do anything to raise a laugh – bless him), but he learnt something that he has worked on ever since. Learning starts with humility.
Back to the big point: The very first step in the process rapid adaptation is to become aware of the changes occurring in your system. For an example us business leaders are used to: shifts in the market, new technology, competitor tactics, and changes in the economy.
As a leader you can’t do that when you’ve got your nose to the grindstone. You can’t see the wider workings of system when you’re hyper-focussed on what’s directly in front of you. It’s as important to create time and space to look, listen and concentrate intently as it is to complete the task in front of you. The skill to learn here is how to be quiet, empty your mind, and observe. Make no mistake, it’s the most important job on the boat. That’s why they assign one person to focus on just that task, so the rest of the team can follow the wind while you call it. It’s just a shame it doesn’t work to yell out “economy! Come over here!” You can’t leave success to chance. Get it wrong and you fall behind (or maybe even capsize).
You should feel guilty if you’re NOT spending time on the bridge.