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My previous post on Eckhart Tolle's books soared into abstract realms—and failed to convey the concrete experience of his teachings. These are useful. They can make a difference in daily life.

 I apply Tolle's ideas in three main ways.

When a thought subsides, you experience a discontinuity in the mental stream—a gap of "no-mind." At first, the gaps will be short, a few seconds perhaps, but gradually they will become longer. When these gaps occur, you feel a certain stillness and peace inside you.

Focus your attention on the now and tell me what problem you have in this moment.

I am not getting any answer because it is impossible to have a problem when your attention is fully in the Now. A situation needs to be either dealt with or accepted. Why make it into a problem?. . . 

"Problem" means that you are dwelling on a situation mentally without there being a true intention or possibility of taking action now and that you are unconsciously making it part of your sense of self.

In other words, do something about the situation now. Or not. But in either case, don't dwell on it. 

1. The human mind naturally creates a constant stream of thought.

 This is mostly reactive and irrational mental noise that serves no useful purpose. Being human is like living with someone who never stops talking—only that "someone" is an aspect of ourselves. 

When the conversation turns to criticism, we usually make the venerable distinction between destructive criticism ("You did a lousy job") and constructive criticism ("Let's find a solution").

There is a third and even more useful option that almost nobody talks about: deconstructive criticism.

This concept is explained by Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey in How the Way We Talk Can Change the Way We Work: Seven Languages for Transformation. The book starts from this premise:

The forms of speaking we have available to us regulate the forms of thinking, feeling, and meaning making to which we have access, which in turn constrain how we see the world and act in it. Some language forms concentrate more individual and social energy than others do; they provide more focus, increase direction, and enhance capacity....

According to Kegan and Lahey, constructive criticism—even when well-intentioned—dissipates energy. It suffers from these limiting assumptions:

• The person giving the constructive criticism—usually a supervisor—has the correct view of a situation.
• The supervisor is the only person who can offer feedback.
• The person receiving the feedback—usually an employee—has the wrong view of the situation and no right to respond to feedback.

If you reverse these assumptions, you get the basic premises of deconstructive criticism: Both supervisor and employee can have valid views. And, both can offer feedback.

In short, performance reviews can stop being a one-way conversation where a supervisor tells the employee how to improve. Reviews instead become an event where both people are free to make meaning. The purpose is not for one person to teach but for both people to inquire.

Deconstructive criticism leads to comments such as:

• "I see what you are doing or not doing and, given my take, I don't get it."
• "Given how I see things, I'm puzzled."
• "I have a take on this and it does lead me to think you are 'wrong' here, but...."

People who are rooted in the language of constructive criticism fear that deconstructive criticism will lead to the "paralysis of analysis." Perhaps a conflict will get better clarified. But nothing will get done.

This is not inevitable, according to Kegan and Lahey. The result of deconstructive criticism is always "a temporary or ultimate decision about how to carry on, rooted in the shared meanings that the language has so far created."

Can you imagine a workplace in which the language of deconstructive criticism prevails? Do you know of any such place?

Image by Kris Hoet, Flickr Creative Commons

So, you want to write a book. You have a body of ideas, a story, or a process that you'd like to document. But you're not a writer. And, you're thinking about hiring one.

These are the questions to ask yourself:

1. You're at a party and someone asks you, "What's your book about?" You have 10 seconds to answer. 
2. You answer the first question, and the person replies, "Interesting. But why would I care?"    

If you cannot answer these questions—or if you are not willing to answer them—then take pause.

Writing a good book is a long, arduous, gut-wrenching process. If you've never written a book before, then brace yourself for a real surprise.

Writing is a purging fire. 

Are you ready for it?

Really?

Working with a co-writer is not simply a matter of hiring someone to transcribe your speaking, do a light edit, and produce a manuscript that the world will automatically love.

No. Writing is a process in which everything you think you know will be questioned. 

In his book The Way of Transformation, Karlfried Graf von Durkheim describes spiritual practice as entering a "zone of annihilation."

That's writing, in a nutshell. 

Writing a book forces you to develop and articulate your ideas. During this process, you might discover gaps in your knowledge, contradictory claims, and holes in your evidence. 

In fact, you might plunge headlong into the void. You might realize that you don't really know anything.

If you are attached to your current ideas and not willing to answer these questions, then save yourself a lot of suffering. Don't write a book.

The questions I've listed above are just the first two. If you work with me, I'll ask you 100 more. 

I am not doing this to annoy you. I'm doing this because I care about you and want your book to succeed.

Those two questions are what a literary agent will ask you. They are what an acquisitions editor at a publishing house will ask you.

Most importantly, they are the questions that potential readers will ask you. 

The failure to answer these questions are part of the reason that the vast majority of nonfiction books lose money and sink into a hole, forever forgotten.

May this never happen to you.

Image by Horia Varlan, Flickr Creative Commons

Kegan sees the roots of behavior change in epistemology—what we know about ourselves. More specifically, change calls on me to redefine subject ("me") and object (everything other than "me").

When I grow attached to a certain thought, feeling, or behavior, it becomes "me." I identify with it so strongly that it becomes non-negotiable. To change the belief or behavior would be a kind of death—a loss of "me." 

Change becomes possible when I release my attachment to the thought, feeling, or behavior. It is no longer "me." I can step back from it, reflect on it, and alter it.

I'll quote Kegan directly (boldface added by me):

"Subject” refers to those elements of our knowing or organizing that we are identified with, tied to, fused with, or embedded in. We have objects; we are subject. We cannot be responsible for, in control of, or reflect on that which is subject. 

“Object” refers to those elements of our knowing or organizing that we can reflect on, handle, look at, be responsible for, relate to each other, take control of, internalize, assimilate, or otherwise operate upon…. it is distinct enough from us that we can do something with it. 

… what we take as subject and what we take as object are not necessarily fixed for us. They are not permanent. They can change. In fact, transforming our epistemologies, liberating ourselves from that in which we are embedded, making what was subject into object so that we can “have it” rather than “be had” by it—this is the most powerful way I know to conceptualize the growth of the mind…. as faithful to the self-psychology of the West as to the “wisdom literature” of the East. The roshis and lamas speak to the growth of the mind in terms of our developing capacity to relate to what we were formerly attached to."

That is one big, beautiful idea.

Photo by aperte, Flickr Creative Commons

Before reviewing some books that are based in the Western scientific tradition, I want to breathe in a little fresh air from the East. The classic texts of Buddhism and Taoism offer a markedly different perspective on behavior change.

I've been trying for days to write a post about the great themes of this literature. And, I keep returning to this piece by the late Lama Gendun Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist monk. It sums up 2500 years of wisdom in 258 words.

I cannot improve upon it, so I offer it to you.

Happiness cannot be found through great effort and willpower but is already present, in open relaxation and letting go.

Don't strain yourself; there is nothing to do or undo. Whatever momentarily arises in the body mind has no real importance at all, has little reality whatsoever. Why identify with, and become attached to it, passing judgment upon it and ourselves?

Far better to simply let the entire game happen on its own, springing up and falling back like waves — without changing or manipulating anything — and notice how everything vanishes and reappears, magically, again and again, time without end.

Only our searching for happiness prevents us from seeing it. It's like a vivid rainbow which you pursue without ever catching, or a dog chasing its own tail. Although peace and happiness does not exist as an actual thing or place, it is always available and accompanies you every instant.

Don't believe in the reality of good and bad experiences; they are like today's ephemeral weather, like rainbows in the sky.

Wanting to grasp the ungraspable, you exhaust yourself in vain. As soon as you open and relax this tight fist of grasping, infinite space is there —open, inviting and comfortable.

Make use of this spaciousness, this freedom and natural ease. Don't search any further. Don't go into the tangled jungle looking for the great awakened elephant who is already resting quietly at home in front of your own hearth.

Nothing to do or undo, Nothing to force, nothing to want and nothing missing — Emaho! Marvelous! Everything happens by itself.

Photo by Dee Lees, Flickr Creative Commons

I am so glad you're here. And, I'd like to apologize for taking the past 18 months to clear my throat and warm up to a definite subject matter.

Like all writing projects, blogging is a sentence-by-sentence journey from chaos to clarity. However, that journey is not always a casual stroll around the lake or a pleasant jog through the woods. Sometimes it's like stumbling backwards and blindfolded through a dog park while trying not to step in anything soft, squishy, and smelly.

The goal is to consistently produce something that doesn't trip the crap detector. And that calls for constant vigilance.

With this in mind, I plan to focus future posts on the topic of behavior change. Plenty of people—spiritual teachers, preachers, educators, researchers, therapists, life coaches, consultants, self-help gurus—are currently weighing in on this topic.

Some of these people give away their teachings.

Others charge a hefty fee.

Many of them have published books.

We'll take a close look at their work. We'll ask questions. We'll balance open-mindedness with healthy skepticism.  

Not a psychologist? Neither am I. But we are intelligent non-experts. We're also the primary audience for popular books about behavior change.

The goal is to discover who we can trust. Let's find out what really makes a difference in the eternal human quest to shed unwanted habits, bogus beliefs, and self-limiting perspectives. 

This is the conversation that matters most to me right now. I hope you'll participate.

Photo by Max Wolfe, Flickr Creative Commons