Tag: organisation

What shoelaces can teach us

My right shoelace was a little loose, so I bent down and retied it. Much tighter; much better. I walked on. In less than 20 steps I felt my left shoelace was now loose, so I bent down and retied it. Much tighter; much better.

As I walked on, I realised my left lace had felt completely fine until I tied my right lace more firmly. Then – only then – did my left lace feel slack. Because the right was tighter, the left felt loose, which caused me to fix it too.

My shoelace ‘experience’ reveals something interesting.

It’s this: often we decide something is right or wrong only when we compare it to something else. Studying an alternative makes us rethink what we are already doing or already have. It’s the comparison which causes us to make changes.

Here are several imagined examples:

  • Before putting my house on the market, I compare its value with the prices paid for similar homes nearby. They sold for a lot more than I first thought mine was worth. My hopes rise and so does my sale price, as I adjust it to equal what was paid for the homes of my neighbours.
  • I start at university, not sure where to go, which lectures never to miss, how to go about assignments. But I watch other students, see what they do, and I match it.
  • I am content with my salary, but then discover that others doing similar work get paid much more than me. I am now discontent, and demand that my boss gives me a raise.
  • I think my house décor looks great, but visit a friend whose home is so beautiful it could feature in a home design magazine. Now I feel my home is inadequate, and call in a designer.
  • I prepare a wonderful meal for visiting friends – beef stroganoff. They tell me they enjoyed it, and invite me for a meal in their home. They serve salmon en croute – cream cheese and dill beautifully encased in light puff pastry. It’s magnificent. My beef stroganoff no longer seems special. I enrol in a culinary school.
  • I love my car. It’s comfortable, reliable, and though not fast it gets me where I want to go. Then my neighbour buys a top of the range Porshe. The leather seats are luxurious, the technology mind-boggling, the engine purrs before roaring into life when he pushes the accelerator. I fall out of love with my car.

Several of these examples are about envy, and I may write about that another time. But envy is not the key point here, which is simply that we adjust our behaviour when we encounter contrasting behaviour. Sometimes we know we’re doing it; sometimes we don’t.

However, changing what you do in the light of what someone else does or possesses requires caution.

First, realise your point of comparison may be poor

For a couple of years I worked in a large open-plan office where Jean also worked. Jean was clearly a good staff member. Very efficient in all she did. In one respect, Jean was super-efficient. I’d walk past her desk after she’d left for the day, and the top of her desk was completely bare. No in-tray or out-tray. No stack of folders. No pile of to-do notes. No stapler, no pens, no paper clips. Not even her landline phone. The desk surface was completely empty. Jean had put everything, literally everything, away in drawers and cabinet. It was impressive.

Many blog posts ago I wrote about two visits to friends. These people did not know each other, but they did have something in common.

Noreen showed us round her modest-sized home. Everything was neat and clean, very neat and very clean. There were no stray cups or plates lying around the kitchen; in the bedroom no clothes strewn over a chair and no overcrowding of the wardrobe; no cushions out of place on the sofa in the lounge. We had to ask: ‘How do you keep everything so perfectly in place like this?’ Noreen’s answer was simple: ‘If I buy something new, I remove something old.’ That’s why her wardrobe and chest of drawers would never overflow. It was hard not to admire Noreen’s ruthlessness.

At their invitation, we visited Chris and Sally just one day after they moved into a new home. I’d protested we shouldn’t visit so soon, but had been assured it would be fine. It wasn’t just fine; the place looked like a show home. Nothing was out of place. At a quiet moment Sally gave away the secret. At the old house, Chris hadn’t allowed a single item to be packed for removal without it being labelled exactly where it was to go in the new place. On arrival, the removers opened the boxes, and laid each item down where prescribed. That’s why, when we visited next day, there were no unpacked boxes, no unhung pictures, nothing lacking a location. It was all perfect. Wasn’t that wonderful?  (Both stories originally at https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/12/how-we-caused-a-plague-of-frogs/)

Jean, Noreen, and Chris provided amazing examples of organisation and tidiness. But:

  • At the end of each day Jean used 15 minutes of work time stowing away all her desk top papers and tools, and at the beginning of the next day another 15 minutes retrieving them.
  • Noreen’s ruthlessness eventually got the better of her. She didn’t control her super-orderliness; it controlled her. It became a compulsion, which sadly led to a broader mental breakdown.
  • Something similar was happening with Chris. He couldn’t function without everything being exactly in its right place. That actually made him inefficient, wore down relationships with others, and was one reason his marriage failed and career ended.

Not for a moment am I criticising habits like tidiness. My sole point is that we may encounter traits or practices in others which, initially, we find admirable. The contrast with what we do is stark. My only minimally organised desk looked so cluttered compared to Jean’s swept-clean desk. At the time I thought ‘I should do what Jean does’. But in fact I shouldn’t. Half an hour of work time spent presenting a clean desk wasn’t what my employer wanted. And Noreen and Chris paid a high prince for their super-organised lives. I shouldn’t emulate them either.

Every person or object we initially admire does not qualify as an example we should copy. Perhaps your modest vacation doesn’t look like much compared to someone else’s lavish cruise, but your bank balance and the environment may thank you for your choice. A bad comparison is no guide to right behaviour.

Second, every comparison we reject doesn’t justify our own behaviour

What if I was speeding down the motorway at 80 miles per hour, feeling a little guilty because the limit is 70 mph? Suddenly a car roars past me. It’s going far faster, almost certainly around 110 mph. “Now that’s really bad ,” I say. “At least I’m not going that fast.” No, I’m not. But my 80 mph is still wrong and risks an accident. Because someone else’s actions are worse doesn’t make mine good.

I played golf in the company of Colin who, to use an old phrase, ‘swore like a trooper’, perhaps because he had been a trooper. Whether from childhood or his years in the military Colin had developed extremely crude language habits. His swear words outnumbered clean words in almost every sentence. He put me off my golf, and probably spoiled his own game. I was used to fellow-golfers who uttered the occasional expletive when they hit the ball out-of-bounds, or missed a short putt. Colin’s appalling language was in a class of its own, a very bad class. Yet that didn’t make it okay that others only used the ‘F’ word sometimes. Their language was better than Colin’s, but still fell short of ideal.

Contrasting our behaviour with someone else’s worse behaviour doesn’t make us good.

When I was a boy my friends and I would jump streams. The challenge was easy when the width was only two or three feet. We could all jump those streams. Next we’d find a place where the gap was five feet. We all managed that too. And then the gap was eight feet. Tommy was great at running and jumping and he cleared it easily. Freddy was not so fast, and slipped as he jumped. He flew only about four feet before plunging into the water. Useless. Then it was my turn. I ran and jumped to an excellent distance. But six feet wasn’t excellent enough for an eight foot gap, and down I fell into the water. I was better than Freddy, but just as wet as he was.

The point is obvious. We see someone doing less well than we are, and feel good about our attitude, our ability, our accomplishment. But contrasting ourselves with someone who is worse doesn’t prove we’re okay.

In our thinking, speaking, acting our point of comparison should be doing what is right and good. What someone else does is, in a sense, irrelevant. The standard isn’t being better than others. The standard is being the best we can be.

Third, maybe nothing needs changing

The final lesson from my shoelaces is very simple. When I’d first tied them, both shoelaces were adequately tight. Yes, as I walked I realised one was tighter than the other, but neither was loose. Both were holding my shoes on my feet perfectly well. Nothing needed changing.

Years ago I read a review of hi-fi equipment. Hi-fi is short for high fidelity, and audiophiles, the people who seek the purest reproduction of sound, invest a lot of money to buy the best. They want no ‘noise’, no distortion, and the ideal frequency response. Having put two h-fi systems through a battery of tests, the reviewer reported that A was fractionally better than B. But, he added, the difference was measurable only in a laboratory. In the real world situation of a music system in the home there would be echo from walls, absorption of sound by carpets and furniture, and extraneous noises such as from passing traffic. Add to that humans have a limited hearing range. “The honest truth,” the reviewer wrote, “is that you’ll never hear any difference between these systems.”

We compare what we have with what someone else has. Or what we can do with what another can do. Then we feel we must get the other thing or be like the other person.

Maybe we do, but maybe we don’t. Perhaps what really matters is being content with what we have and what we’re able to do. Life won’t be significantly different by making a change. Most likely both your shoelaces are already adequately fastened.

If you’ve found this blog post helpful, you’d likely also enjoy others from the archives. For example, have a look at these:

The left-handed ironing board  https://occasionallywise.com/2022/01/01/the-left-handed-ironing-board/

When the right thing to do is nothing at all  https://occasionallywise.com/2021/01/30/when-the-right-thing-to-do-is-nothing-at-all/

Inner peace  https://occasionallywise.com/2023/07/15/inner-peace/

And, please think of sharing any of these with others who might appreciate reading them. Thank you.

The Coronation of King Charles III

On May 6th, 2023, Charles III was crowned king. He was already king, of course, because that title passed to him immediately upon the death of his mother, Elizabeth II, on September 8th, 2022, at 3.10 pm. Charles’ coronation today recognised his kingship, and included pledges by king and people of loyalty and service to each other.

I’m not an ardent royalist like some are, but also far from being anti-monarchy. There are parts of a nation’s history that should not easily be discarded, and hard-working and wise ‘royals’ can do much for the United Kingdom, its commonwealth countries and other ‘realms’.

So I settled down to watch the coronation service and its associated events. I knew I was in for a marathon – and it was that – but I could relax which is more than what was possible for the thousands of military and police on parade and guard duty, and those who had an active part inside Westminster Abbey. They’ll all sleep soundly tonight.

I will share a few personal thoughts on the day’s events. But – since this is written on the same day – they should be seen as immediate reactions rather than deeply considered reflections.

Here’s what stood out for me.

Superb organisation  It’s hard to grasp how anyone can bring together the complex content and timing that makes a coronation day work. And all today’s events were marvellously efficient. What undoubtedly helped is the little-known fact that ever since Elizabeth II became queen officials of the government, Church of England, and royal staff held meetings at least annually to plan Charles’ coronation. Now that’s being prepared.

But I’m not surprised. Decades ago – as a young journalist in Edinburgh – I saw advance press releases outlining visits by royalty. The itinerary was timed to the minute. Indeed, my newspaper had an early edition sold on the streets as soon as one royal event was over. The story detailed where the Queen had been, who she’d met, what she’d seen. How did they have it written so soon? They didn’t. It was written before the event, entirely from the detailed schedule issued in advance. Royal events – great and small – are planned to the smallest detail.

But today’s coronation was one of the greatest of events, and I applaud those who brought together people from all round the world, thousands of military personnel, many clergy and politicians, London’s city officials, broadcasters, and many more. Quite a feat.

Remarkable endurance  I was impressed that several people involved in the service could retain their posture for long periods of time. In many cases, they stayed still while holding ceremonial items. Charles himself had to stay balanced with a crown resting precariously on his head while sitting on an uncomfortable ancient Coronation Chair, holding an orb in one hand and a sceptre in the other. Queen Camilla was put through similar torture. Both did well. And so did others who kept their concentration, passed the correct items of regalia exactly at the right time, moved to new locations when needed, and so on.

Outside, on the routes between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, there was constant discipline from police who faced out to the crowd and military who faced in towards the procession. They stood there for hours from long before dignitaries went past.

To add to the discomfort outdoors it rained much of the time. That’s oddly normal for coronation days. It also rained on the previous four occasions, including the coronation of Elizabeth II in June 1953. Yet everything about Charles’ coronation seemed unaffected, except low cloud meant the fly past was scaled back to only helicopters and the Red Arrows performance team. (The plan had been for 14 waves of aircraft, ranging from World War II fighters and bombers to super-modern jets. Some were already flying holding patterns off the east coast when the Ministry of Defence cancelled their participation. Aircraft crashing over London is a risk that could not be taken.)

A very religious service  Coronation services have their origin in ancient times. And coronations at Westminster date back to William the Conqueror on 25th December 1066. For many centuries there was a strong belief in the divine right of kings, the view that kings were appointed by God and could rule absolutely. Though no-one now believes in divine right, the idea that a monarch should be blessed, strengthened and guided by God prevails.

Hence it’s not surprising that today’s coronation was a profoundly religious event, led by the senior clergy of the Church of England. For a long time Charles has recognised that British people are not only Christian; many adhere to other faiths. Thus representatives of other religions had roles too. However, the monarch is formally the supreme governor of the Church of England, so there’s no surprise that denomination’s forms of prayer and worship predominated.

Charles has also said that he intends to defend all faiths – in the sense that no faith should suffer discrimination – and I applaud that. For many of the tough situations he will face, I hope the prayers for Charles will be answered. He will need the wisdom only God can give to navigate the right way.

A considerate event  Two things particularly made me realise those responsible for the coronation had tried to be thoughtful and kind.

First, I was following the official coronation order of service, and right at the end I could read the wording of a greeting other faith leaders would give the king just before he exited the abbey. The TV cameras covered that moment but we didn’t hear a word they said. That seemed a shame to me. Until, later, a commentator explained the silence. The Chief Rabbi observes strict Jewish practices about the sabbath (which is a Saturday). That meant he could not travel by car or train to the service. That could be overcome by staying near the abbey overnight. But sabbath rules would also prohibit him speaking into a microphone. So, to allow the Rabbi to participate alongside other faith leaders, there was no microphone to pick up their voices. That is a remarkable consideration.

Second, thousands of military personnel marched well in advance of the ornate coaches that carried King Charles and Queen Camilla. That meant they never saw the monarch and his wife while on parade. That was tough. The day had begun at 3.30 am for many of them, as they had to travel into London and be in position early on. Then they stood and marched in the rain. Of course that was their duty, pleasant or not, and I’m sure they considered it a privilege to have a part in the day. But never to see their new king and queen? Someone thought that didn’t need to happen, so when they finished their march up The Mall they continued on past the frontage of Buckingham Palace and gathered on the vast lawn behind (where Garden Party events are held[1]). The troops lined up in long rows on the grass, and when the royal couple appeared on the terrace overlooking the grounds, the military removed their headwear and gave the heartiest of ‘hip, hip, hooray’ cheers. That’s something they’ll tell their children and grandchildren. I found it quite moving.

At the age of 74 King Charles today became the oldest person to be crowned monarch in Britain. He was just three years old when his mother became queen, making him the heir for over 70 years. That’s a long time to wait. He’s used a lot of that to campaign on important issues, especially about the environment. As monarch he can no longer speak on any subject considered political, but the king has other opportunities to do good. I believe he’ll make a positive difference, and do that with passion and wisdom.

Lastly, a note, especially for those who think it rains all the time in Britain. It really doesn’t. I enlightened many of my American friends on that subject, but even British commentators seemed to suggest today’s rain in London was typical late spring weather. So why have the coronation in May? But here are two facts:

  1. London’s largest airport, Heathrow, has recorded an average of 45.91mm (1.8 inches) of rain in May between 1991 and 2020. Only four other months are drier.
  2. Heathrow, London, has an average annual rainfall of 614.98 mm (24.2 inches) while Central Park, New York City, has 1267.5 mm (49.9 inches) – more than double London’s total. Even Paris has more rain annually than London – 641 mm (25.2 inches).

So, today wasn’t really a bad choice for Coronation Day. And King Charles – perhaps thinking of the long reign of his mother – described the rain as a ‘blessing’. May there be showers of blessing on his time as king.

[1] Many years ago my wife Alison was invited to attend the Queen’s Garden Party, and I was her ‘plus one’. I know my place.