Gift of Confusion
Charles Handy tells a great story about confusion and the recognition that we are in the wrong place in his book Second Curve. Handy was driving through the Wicklow Mountains outside Dublin when he lost his way. He came across a man walking his dog and asked for directions to Avoca – his destination. The man said, “Surely – it’s dead easy… You go straight ahead up this hill then down again for a mile or so until you get to a stream with a bridge over it; on the other side of it you’ll see Davy’s Bar; you can’t miss it, it’s bright red.” The man pressed Handy to make sure he had understood his directions.
The man confirmed and then continued, “Great, well, half a mile before you get to Davy’s Bar, turn right up the hill and that will take you to Avoca!”
It’s easy to dismiss this story as a quirky example of Irish humour but how many of us are sitting in the equivalent of Davy’s Bar wondering how on earth we missed the earlier turn off. We start our careers full of optimism and promise about who we are going to be, the difference we are going to make or maybe just the money we are going to earn. Seemingly small choices made over many years nudge us further and further away from our own truth and we lose sight of what it was that excited us and motivated us in the first place. Instead we look back at our lives with regret at decisions made or not made as though we have no way of getting back to that point. Clay Christensen talks of something similar in his book How Will You Measure Your Life – how we somehow arrive somewhere we didn’t want or expect and feel almost suffocated by the life we did or didn’t live.
It doesn’t have to be that way. Even if you think you missed your exit, it’s almost certainly not a disaster – it may actually be a blessing. Have a drink at Davy’s bar and relax. Confusion or the feeling of being lost or stuck are not necessarily bad places to be. In a world that seems to praise being right and certain above all else it is easy for us to feel uncomfortable with confusion but if we embrace it, welcome it and pay attention to the nudges it creates in one direction or another we can use it as a signpost toward a better outcome. Confusion can be a huge opportunity for learning and growth. It is not a weakness. As long as we use it to listen to the questions it forces us to ask ourselves and take heed of the answers it can be a profound strength. In essence, confusion is simply an invitation to change. An invitation to be more flexible between what our rational mind may decide it ‘wants’ and what the heart whispers that it ‘needs’. It is an invitation to step back and embrace the unfolding nature of life.
I ended up in Australia although the road there was far from straight forward and repeatedly punctuated by insurmountable obstacles and confusion.
My first clear memory of feeling genuinely stuck, the type of stuck I’m seeking to shine a light on was when we found out that my wife’s parents were missing. The conventional view was that we should just sit tight and hope for the best. The rational appreciation of why that was probably smart advice while at the same time being increasingly aware of this internal, visceral sensation that informed me that waiting was simply not an option – however logical it may have appeared. These equally accurate yet competing truths kept me stuck in a limbo state for several hours. I felt unable to move and yet I had to move – two opposing forces working together to maintain inertia. And the confusion around this situation was intense. Not just about what was actually happening in the streets of the city but the confusion I felt around what my best next step could be or should be. I remember feeling a huge sense of relief when my dear friend questioned me about my silence and offered up a possible solution. As soon as he said, he knew people that could help I knew I was on the right track.
It felt right. It wasn’t safe or wise, shrewd or sensible but it felt right. I didn’t think about it at the time but it was almost as though the clouds of confusion parted before me and I could see the route forward clearly. I knew what I needed to do.
As I sat with the possibility of doing nothing and waiting until the unrest had died down and then try and find my in-laws – that solution felt really cold to me. Although I wouldn’t have put it in those terms then. But doing something, going to look for them - that felt positive and definitely felt closer to what I needed to do for myself, my wife and my extended family.
Unfortunately, we don’t always pay attention to that inner nudge or the small voice within. We don’t even know it’s there. As a result, we ignore it and instead pursue solutions that leave us cold.
“There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.”
Copyright © Satyendra Chevendra
Gift of Confusion
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