I blogged a bit about Living Without A Goal recently and went down a path I didn’t originally anticipate, focusing on utility and value and appreciation in life. I’d intended to say more about James Ogilvy’s views on work, but once I was plumbing the depths of what makes life meaningful, valuable and worthwhile, I wasn’t in the mood to write [more] about work.
I suppose this may be an example of what poet David Whyte calls investigative vulnerability, a term he attributes the term to Dante. An example he shares (on Disc 2 of his Clear Mind, Wild Heart audiobook) is when he was composing the poem Sweet Darkness, he wrote the line "You must learn one thing…" and felt tremendous excitement and anticipation to discover what he would actually write next … which turned out to be "the world was made to be free in" … although I think the more poignant revelation comes a few lines later: "anyone and anything that does not bring you alive is too small for you" … a sentiment very closely aligned to ideas expressed more prosaically by James Ogilvy.
And coming back to Ogilvy, in his book on Living Without a Goal, he notes that
[T]he worthiest works of all often reflect an artful creativity that looks more like play than work.
Unlike my resistance to his rejection of being useful to others as a worthy Goal, this notion of work as play is something I embrace wholeheartedly (and even practice occasionally). Work that is intrinsically motivating is indistinguishable from play, and work that is solely or primarily motivated by extrinsic incentives (money, titles, prestige, manager approval) can never be as ultimately satisfying and fulfilling.
Writing this now, I’m drawn back to the issue of [work] being useful to others. When I am playing, do I care whether or how my play affects others, or do I play with reckless abandon? Am I goal-oriented in my play, or do I play just for the fun of it? It seems indulgent, even extravagant, and downright risky, in applying this attitude [explicitly and openly] to work … but I know from past experience that there also risks in not following my heart, working on things that have been assigned to me that I do not see as intrinsically worthwhile, and feeling the energy draining out of my body day in and day out.
Ogilvy notes these (and other) risks:
Creativity relies less on goal-directed labor than on a subtle mix of discipline and play. The artist suffers under an imperative to delight, an obligation to bask in pleasure. Someone must scout those frontiers of bliss and discover the pitfalls. There are risks. It is not an accident that artists suffer accidents. It is the nature of the case that they take risks. But if one must take risks, what better place than in pleasure’s paradise?
A little further on, he presages Web 2.0:
people who explore the outer reaches of human delight, then learn how to bottle and sell some of their ecstasy, end up being far more successful than the drudges who are convinced of their duty to defer gratification forever
He then contrasts this approach to the typical process by which research is "managed" (!), especially within large organizations:
Just look at the administration of big science — planned creativity — and then look at its track record for innovation. On a dollar-per-dollar basis, big science doesn’t do as well as the less bureaucratized passion of garage inventors.
At budget time each year I would be asked what I planned to do the following year and what it would cost. It always seemed to me that I was being asked what I planned to discover … It was as if the only time genuine discovery would be allowed would be during the month or so of the budget cycle.
Having been working at Nokia Research Center for three months now, I’m struck by a curious tension: the organization is the most process-oriented I’ve ever encountered, and [yet] it also emphasizes the importance of taking risks more than any organization I’ve been a part of. NRC Palo Alto, the newest facility (and the one where I work), is experimenting on a number of dimensions, organizationally and with respect to research trajectories. Thus far, I’ve experienced a great deal of liberty and happiness in my time there, and have enjoyed both intrinsic and extrinsic rewards.
Popping up a level (or two), I’m reminded of some ruminations that occurred to me while listening to another audiobook, The Ultimate Anti-Career Guide by Rick Jarow. What would life be like if everyone only worked on things that were intrinsically meaningful to them? What kinds of work would we see more of, or less of? What kinds (and sizes) of organizations would we see? What would the world be like if everyone followed Rumi’s prescription:
Let yourself be drawn by the silent pull of what you really love.
Comments
5 responses to “Work, Liberty and the Pursuit of Pleasure”
What would life be like…
Which means in essence that there might be many sources for that pull toward “what you really love.” And that you could move from one source to another, but all of them, if I’ve read Rumi right, pull toward one particularly important Lover. In an age that debunks romance between men and women — and maybe because it’s still in us, immutable — we transfer our “interests” to something even more subtle. Classic sublimation, perhaps, but also classic discovery: the one who waits for you, the one you yearn for is none other than yourSelf.
What would life be like if everyone only worked on things that were intrinsically meaningful to them?
I have several friends in the recruiting and psychology space who ask that question a lot. I think we would see a good number of truly talented people emerge.
I am often saddened by the number of talented people I see in dead-end jobs. Some of the most gifted people I know sit idle behind the wrong kind of desk… and I think society suffers from never knowing how amazing they really are.
As a single dad, I would believe that more of these people would be role models for our youth. I am jazzed when a 15 year old (or 50 year old) walks up to me and says “wow, you are amazing.”
I think there are too many people who are just used to seeing everyone accept “average”
Dan: I’m so glad you brought up sublimation, as this is one of the dimensions of Ogilvy’s book I don’t think I fully understand. He defines it as “the redirection of energy away from the straight shot at the target” and delves into its physical, sexual, symbolic, economic and ethical manifestations. I believe it is tied into the notion that happiness (or, more generally, gratification in any of these dimensions) is an emergent phenomenon that can be cultivated but not achieved through direct, goal-directed means … something more likely to be found along the edges, or off the beaten path, than down the middle of a wide, straight highway.
Barry: I completely agree with the sentiments you express, and along with Marianne Williamson, I believe we are all brilliant, gorgeous and talented and fabulous. But if society suffers when people play small, I wonder why society tends to cultivate shrinking rather than shining? I’m encouraged by your modeling and sharing of your true talents, and strive to follow the example you — and others — are setting in letting your light shine!
“the notion that happiness […] is an emergent phenomenon that can be cultivated but not achieved through direct, goal-directed means … something more likely to be found along the edges, or off the beaten path, than down the middle of a wide, straight highway.”
Ooh! I like that.
However, I’m not so sure the bit I cut, ” (or, more generally, gratification in any of these dimensions)” fits. My understanding of the connotation is, gratification comes in response to a *particular* need/desire being *met*. That wouldn’t be an emergent phenomenon, would it? Also, I’m not sure what gratification in a symbolic dimension would be (is that one of “these dimensions”, or were you referring to something else?).
Sarah: I agree that gratification arises from desires or needs (conscious[ly] or unconscious[ly]) being met, the question, with respect to sublimation, is in how those are [best] met. On the one hand, I do believe I can make myself happy (or unhappy) — and that no one else can (Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote about “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” comes to mind). On the other hand, I also believe that many of the happiest — and unhappiest — experiences in my life have arisen in ways that were unplanned (and, at least in the case of unhappy experiences, unintended).
Regarding the dimension of symbolic gratification, Ogilvy has a section on “Semiotics and Sublimation” (pp. 168-170, in my edition), in which he speaks of “the sheer trembling excitement of physical desire by hearing its echoes in different registers of meaning and significance” and claims that “these ‘reflections’ actually illuminate and magnify the instincts that were their origin”. As I noted earlier, I don’t really understand what he means by sublimation in general, and you’ve highlighted the specific dimension in which I understand it the least. I believe he wants to convey the notion that a stronger awareness and appreciation for the symbolic dimension can enhance our experience of gratification in the physical dimension of life. “By being aware of the multiple meanings of each moment and the different scales and registers of significance, the lively mind lives in a richer world.” But your guess — or symbolic interpretation — is as good as mine!