Tag: thinking

Liminal Thinking – Dave Gray #reading

Liminal Thinking: Create the change you want by changing the way you think by Dave Gray is a book that I have toyed with reading for some time. I remember the occasion, quite a few years ago now, when, sat in a presentation at a Teaching and Learning Conference at work, I first encountered the concept of liminal spaces – transitional spaces or places that sit, rather fuzzily, between two different states, spaces or places. Since then, I have become rather fascinated by the concept of limnality, especially where this exists between one state or space that is very familiar and another that is largely, or even wholly, unknown. It’s a concept that I leaned on when writing my poem It Is Time (which should appear on this site in the not-too-distant future, as long as I am able to navigate the liminal space that is wedged between now and then…). So it was not that surprising that when I was looking for a new audiobook to listen to on my way to and from work, Liminal Thinking pushed its way to the head of the queue.

Unfortunately, my ‘reading’ of Liminal Thinking was something of a disappointment.

First, I don’t think Gray’s book is really about limnality at all. Instead, I think it’s a book about how bias creeps into the development of a personal world-view, and how being aware of this can help us to challenge our instinctive thoughts to develop a more robust and accurate set of beliefs. I’m inclined to think that the introduction of the word ‘liminal’ into the title of the book was primarily a case of the author trying to find a distinctive ‘buzzword’ in the hope that it might catch on and become associated with him in similar fashion to ‘atomic’ (Atomic Habits by James Clear) and ‘tiny’ (Tiny Habits by B.J.Fogg). But perhaps that my natural tendency towards cynicism coming into play…

Secondly, my experience listening to this audiobook reinforced a feeling that has been growing inside me for a while now, namely that it doesn’t really work to listen to certain kinds of non-fiction and hope to get much out of the experience. I am thinking here of books that are in any way a bit how to-ish in character. This is because unless you are prepared to be constantly stopping to bookmark segments or to rewind to listen again so as to catch details fully, it’s just not possible to come away from the listening experience with anything tangible (such as some kind of notes), and with no physical, print version available either, there is then nothing to refer back to later on. Still, if nothing else, this does mean that Liminal Thinking taught me one good lesson: that I’m not going to waste my time listening to this kind of book any more.

My experience with Liminal Thinking wasn’t entirely negative. Gray does a nice job of succinctly capturing six ‘principles of beliefs’, namely that:

  • beliefs are models
  • beliefs are created
  • beliefs create a shared world
  • beliefs create blindspots
  • beliefs defend themselves
  • beliefs are tied to identity

These principles are designed to highlight how the things we believe are not necessarily true reflections of reality but are, instead, built on thoughts that we have, mostly automatically, as we process our interactions with the world around us through our unique, personal, and mostly unconscious, set of biases and filters (things like ‘confirmation bias’ or ‘spotlighting’). Gray argues that with the right practice, it is possible to develop the ability to challenge one’s beliefs, and modify the way that we respond to inputs, so that what we come to believe about the world is a more accurate, or at least more reliable, model of our reality. He does this by introducing a number of so-called ‘liminal thinking practices’. These are:

  • assume that you are not objective
  • empty your cup
  • create safe space
  • triangulate and validate
  • ask questions, make connections
  • disrupt routines
  • act as if in the here and now
  • make sense with stories
  • evolve yourself

Most of these practices are pretty much self-explanatory, but if you asked me to explain what it means to ’empty your cup’ (in this context) I’m afraid that I would fail the task… You see, I have developed a belief that when it comes to trying to retain the knowledge and ideas conveyed in non-fiction writing, listening to an audiobook doesn’t work, and that means that whatever ’empty you cup’ is referring to went in one ear and out of the other. What’s more, I am pretty much convinced that no amount of questioning, safe space, routine disruption, story-telling or personal evolution is going to change my mind…

Notebook Thinking

I like to spend a little time each day pondering my thoughts by writing them out long-hand in a notebook. Sometimes an entry is all about one thing, how I am feeling, what I am going to do that day (usually I write earlier in the day rather than later) or something that is bothering me. Often the thoughts are more scattered and random, crashing about from one theme to another with no obvious structure.

I’m not sure when this habit started but, as can be seen from the picture below, it clearly become established about 5 years ago when I adopted a standard size and type of notebook (Moleskine pocket hardbound, usually squared, sometimes lined). I also have a standard type of pen (Mitsubishi USB185S, usually black, occasionally blue but only for a day or two if my black has run out and I have no replacement handy). I buy the pens in bulk and the notebooks a few weeks in advance – I have my next one ready and waiting. It would now trouble me quite a lot to use a different type of notebook or a different type of pen. I know that’s not a good thing… surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to bother me what colour I have.

I write in full sentences, recording my thoughts in an almost conversational style – just like this blog entry really. I think that this act of writing thoughts out by hand in pen on paper, slowly, is central to the enjoyment and value I get from the exercise. It stops me from racing ahead and forces me to stay with a line of thinking for longer than I probably would otherwise.

Sometimes I just end up with a page or two of writing that doesn’t say anything very much and it seems a bit pointless and forced. Other times I can stay in my groove for quite a long time (maybe an hour if I am well situated with a decent coffee nearby and, perhaps, not where I ought to be doing what I ought to be doing…). On those occasions I can really unlock blocks and constraints in my mind and my life, settling myself down, sifting my thoughts into order, resolving problems and geeing myself up for action. It’s wonderful when that happens.

To my knowledge, no-one has ever read anything I have written in these notebooks. If they have, they have certainly never admitted it. That’s probably just as well – I don’t generally write about deeply personal stuff involving other people although I do quite like to grumble. But I do write about what I am thinking and feeling, the frustrations I have with myself, especially in relation to my ongoing battles with procrastination and my tendency to be always be looking forward to some future time when life is how I want it to be rather than getting on with it now (I’ve ALWAYS been like that) and I am not sure that anyone else should have to suffer by entering that world.