Sylvia's Journal

The fog cleared yesterday just about when I drove by the Shell station on route 1 at about 6:20 AM. I knew it because I felt the familiar surge of energy that I am used to experience as I drive to work but which had been missing the last few days. It’s the kind of surge that comes from, or produces (not sure what is cause and what is effect) ideas about the first things I will do when I get to work. Not having it for two days in a row threw me off.

I had lunch with my colleague Diane who had noticed my disengagement yesterday from my body language. It is nice when someone actually tells you that and a reminder of how transparent we are and how not self-aware of our impact on others when not in a good place.

Lunch was for both of us good for the soul. At work we are in the middle of work planning, Diane more than I am. It is a process that is designed and led by our accountants who rarely (some never) travel to the places we work. It is a model of efficiency, fine-tuned over the years, but also a process that is both soul wrenching and mind numbing as an organizational activity, centered on, what else, Excel spreadsheets.

I am spared the worst of it because I travel all the time and I don’t manage any projects. But others do and they are grounded for the duration of the process; many suffer, most no longer complain or do it in private, having given up any illusion that it can be altered to be more creative, more engaging of heart and soul.

As a professional observer of organizational processes and a student of the psychology of individuals who work in organizations, the experience is more than a little instructive. Most instructive is how otherwise intelligent and empowered, assertive individuals (this includes me) go along with an annual ritual that does the opposite of what it preaches; most of what comes out of it is more of what went on before.

What is supposed to be a time of heightened creativity and connection to our clients and counterparts in developing countries is a series of scripted encounters, driven by a tight time schedule, which in its turn is driven by the US government budgeting cycle that has taken on a life of its own. It is essentially unchallenged and unchanged because of its solid organizational rationale (our client wants it). I know I can’t argue with that so I don’t. But I don’t think it is a coincidence that some of us experience our strongest creative urges precisely during this period each year.

Back home we had another noisy dinner with all six of us around the table. Sita is staying with us because she has business in Boston. She’s working, in her VP role, on a proposal about how to help businesses develop sustainable solutions to the world’s most intractable social problems in health, the environment and other areas of concern – her playing field is the entire world but she’s playing in a different league than I am. Today she is meeting a client; last night she practiced her pitch and her slides on me. Our work terrains, who could have predicted that, are converging.

After dinner we sent Axel to bed while the rest of us went to Singing Beach to play Frisbee with Chicha. Axel’s early bedtime was ordered because he has a stress EEG this morning – stress meaning no sleep after midnight. So just when we all went to bed he had to get up and stay up until my alarm went off, a little earlier than usual, at 4 AM this morning. We had to be at the hospital at 5:15 AM for this test. Our family doctor has ordered it to rule out possible other diagnoses for the recent occurrence of vertigo. After the test we drove into Boston together, me to work and Axel to see the head injury specialist again at Spaulding Rehab. We are holding our breath.