On Convergence

Admittedly, I’ve been thinking about this one for a while… I suppose the fact that my last blog was dated in April gives that secret away. Like you, I’ve been watching convergence happen all around me – in technology, finance, energy, healthcare, politics, and yes – “real” life. And yet what I find most interesting is our individual and collective desire to resist convergence at all cost. Is it that we as humans want to keep things separate in order to keep them simple? Understandable? Achievable? Or is it simply that we resist change of any kind?

I’m not so negative as to think that it’s purely the latter – we have all resolved ourselves to the fact that change happens every day. Some of us welcome it more openly than others, but we all deal with it. And ultimately seek some degree of benefit from it. So let’s talk about the former hypothesis as the one for further consideration: if we as individuals can sort things into literal or metaphorical “boxes” – if we can categorize, prioritize and organize our thoughts and our “things” – then ultimately we can focus on one or two at a time, really master them, and in doing so find a comfortable spot in which to live. As a result, we have entrepreneurs who want to build a widget, when what market-driving (and acquiring) companies need now is comprehensive solutions. And we have doctors who know with unprecedented accuracy the workings of a patient’s heart, when what people need is comprehensive, quality care for their whole being.

Convergence, whether it is in our personal or professional lives, is messy. It’s not linear, it’s not simple, it’s not clear, it’s not quick, and it’s ripe with the unknown. To use an analogy that’s top of mind after spending two weeks on the beach: it’s swimming in murky seawater after a storm. We can’t be sure of what’s in there, what’s benign, what’s dangerous, or even where the bottom is. And yet we’re compelled to wade in, either by choice or by force (as was the case for me thanks to my children). In following the analogy, what if we mustered our courage as we do when we dive into the ocean, and applied the same sense of adventure to our “whole” lives? In fact, why DON’T we do more of that?

Is it fear of failure? This is where you may agree and begin to claim that the analogy breaks down, arguing that it’s tough to “fail” in an ocean swim where the worst case scenario involves an angry crab underfoot. You then compare the miniscule crab to the ire of angry employees, shareholders, or God forbid – Congress. Which leads me to ask, is it really tougher to fail in business than it is in the ocean? Honestly (within reason) how much more pain is really involved in bringing ideas or businesses together and having them potentially fail? Short of closing up shop (the equivalent of drowning in the analogy), all other missteps could conceivably be viewed as jelly fish stings that send you walking in another direction. We’ve all read multiple stories about all of the successful people who have failed more than they have succeeded in life when considering the statistics (Ted Williams’ strikeouts, Michael Jordan’s missed shots, if you need the details here contact Joe Hameline in Vermont – he could quote thousands for you, beginning with the number of times Thomas Edison failed to produce a working light bulb). So actually, I think some of us are ITCHING to fail, and fail quickly, as one prominent Google executive is so fond of saying.

Is it fear of the unknown? I think we’re getting warmer here, and all of Oprah’s references to “listening to your inner voice” actually don’t help (sorry, “O” fans). One “What I Know for Sure” article a few years back told me in no uncertain terms: “Doubt means ‘don’t’… Don’t move, don’t act, don’t commit”. I’ve never forgotten it (clearly) and I actually thought it made sense, trying to live by it for a while. Years later, however, I realize that most of us are already paralyzed doubt. We think every little squeak our “inner voice” makes must be heeded like the Bible. We give credence to every “intuitive” emotion that runs through our bellies like a butterfly. And we think they are ALL signs. I’ll admit that I think women are the worst offenders here, and yet we’re encouraged to be by all of those entities that uphold our intuition as one of the greatest gifts of our gender (sometimes I’d like to return mine). And if you don’t follow the orders of that inner voice to the letter? Well then, burglars and rapists await you in dark parking lots at malls and grocery stores. But what if they’re NOT ALL signs? What if some of those feelings are just feelings? What if it’s a healthy dose of nervousness? Caution? Anticipation? Excitement? Are we all so incredibly intuitive that we can tell the difference in the moment? I think not. And so most of us venture forward anyway into the unknown, and we make the judgment on whether the inner voice led to success or failure in the aftermath.

Maybe the answer actually lies somewhere in between success and failure, in the realm of expectations. I’ll admit that I loathe the idea of ever having anything but the highest of expectations for everything I do, say and surround myself with. And yes, that includes high expectations for those whom I surround myself with (my poor children…) But I’m starting to think that it’s a problem – for me, and for all of us. Not every start up will be Microsoft. Not every building will be The Guggenheim. Not every merger will yield an Accenture. Not every swim in the ocean will be a life-changing experience. And does it need to be? Sometimes you just come out covered with seaweed, and yet totally refreshed and happy for having tried. I’m trying to get comfortable with the idea that every venture need not be my defining moment of excellence. This might be the hardest concept I’ve ever tried to truly accept, and I don’t think I’m alone here… Employees, patients, shareholders, the media… We’re all people and we all hold up incredible expectations for our government, our companies, and ourselves. We in the Western world often wear our expectations like a disease, impeding our ability to LIVE life and therefore actually succeed to whatever level possible. Why can’t we just swim?

Now I’m not suggesting we embrace a culture of mediocrity. Not for one second. But if we can’t take the first step in trying something new because we’re afraid the results won’t live up to our expectations, then we can’t bring forth the ingredients truly required for creating those few rare and wonderful “convergent solutions”. Because what I know for sure after two weeks on that beach is that I could never live without PB&J and my iPhone.