More Momentum, Less Effort
by Joseph DiCenso
Scything wheat, hammering a nail, splitting wood, sledding downhill, surfing a wave, performing a summersault, playing the piano–all of these have something in common: working with momentum. Momentum: mass in motion aiming to remain in motion. In the broader sense, we might say it’s whatever already has life or energy. When we tap that energy we expend less of our own. In exchange, we give up some control–or so it seems.
Ever watch someone new to wielding a hammer? Typically they choke up on the handle, which gives them more control and costs them more effort. Not letting the head swing freely and do the work for them, they have to employ more muscle to drive the nail home. Often “control”–of the type I mean–requires two things: exerting unnecessary effort and forfeiting the benefits of momentum.
My personal mantra for 2012 is more momentum, less effort. I’m wanting more trust and less “control,” more swing and less struggle, more grace and less death-grip in my life. I want to be more like a compact fluorescent bulb: putting out the same light with less unnecessary heat while requiring a lot less energy. (Did you know that, at 5% of the world population, the US consumes 20% of the world’s energy[1]–and “burns” that energy at about a 42% efficiency rate?)[2]
Shedding Effort, Building Trust
Sometime last year I watched the movie, The Pianist, and was astonished by the last few minutes of the film, where the frame zoomed in on the hands of the pianist performing the final movement of a concerto. Though the piece was technically strenuous, if not grueling, there was–and this is what stunned me–an utter absence of tension in the hands of the player. He could have been cooling his fingers in lake water on a hot summer day. I turned off the movie and went to the piano, myself, to explore just how much effort and tension I might winnow from my playing–even (or especially) during the most difficult passages.
Trusting momentum, like letting the hammer swing, is an act of surrender. It’s risky: I could miss the nail and whack my thumb. How exhilarating, though, to sink a 16-penny nail in four strokes, feeling all that unimpeded momentum pouring into the head. A dance teacher (of a form of postmodern dance I practice called Contact Improvisation) once said to me, “Use ten percent of the effort you’ve been using.” This was profoundly accurate and helpful advice–both on and off the dance floor. Effort often strangles momentum. Momentum demands trust. Trust that I will know what to do and be able to do it if I let momentum move me. If I “lose my balance” will I know how to land with grace? Will I hurt myself or someone else?
Receiving Grace
A Taoist story depicts a master’s body snaking down a white water river, just allowing the currents to take him, never hitting a rock. Going with the flow. The recovering perfectionist in me knows all-too-well how to choke up on life and peck away–and how unfulfilling that is. The pianist knows how deeply thrilling it is to play without a trace of unnecessary effort–with lightness, grace, speed and limitless energy. Not to mention the beauty. Control deadens what’s most alive. Playing with surrender allows me to enter the arc of a phrase, to hear the notes that want to sing out, to savor the beauty of the note, itself.
I want that in my life: more beauty, more deep thrill, more being moved. More momentum, less effort.
Genius In Our Midst
I sense wider applications. In the realm of leadership development, effort is “training” leaders with books, manuals, DVDs and a day or
more of instruction in skills HR has determined they need.
Momentum is giving leaders a chance to talk to one another about what matters to them, then using that shared information as the basis of their own self-designed leadership practices–and using the deepened relationships as the basis of ongoing peer support.
Sharing “best practices” is a kind of momentum–adapting the success of another instead of reinventing the wheel. Biomimicry is a discipline that seeks to learn from nature’s best practices. For example, learning that it may be possible to design bio-batteries to power implants like artificial retinas by studying how an Amazonian eel is able to produce 600 volts instantly.[3] Or Mercedes-Benz being mentored by the coral reef box fish in their design concept for a new automobile with an extremely low-friction shape and surface.[4]
To listen and learn in this way we may need to let fall away “the entrancement of the last 350 years of western science, where somehow we convinced ourselves that we’re the only one with the answers; “and go outside and realize that we’re surrounded by genius.”[5] Genius–whether in our guts, our groups or what’s growing around us–is a kind of momentum. Recognizing it is the first step to harnessing it.
Wind in the Sail, Tiller in Hand
To come back to the idea of control, I’m not saying give up all control and let the winds take you where they may; I’m saying notice how and where there is already energy moving that you could use, and before you rev your engine try adjusting the sails. One can sail north in a westerly wind–using both tiller and sail, provided with a deep enough keel.
[1] World Population Balance Population and Energy Consumption web page
[2] Lawrence Livermore estimated US energy use, 2009
[3] Piece Audio: Biomimicry by Sarah Lilley
[4]Janine Benyus on Biomimicry in Design, Treehugger Radio, 12/13/2009
[5] Ibid
About Joseph-I am a counselor, workshop facilitator, leadership consultant and life coach in private practice in the Pioneer Valley of western Massachusetts and I love my work! Learn more about me and my work at: http://joseph-dicenso.com
– is a deeply personal issue that everyone decides for himself. Sometimes the price is high, sometimes low. But this is not very important for life. Life is an interesting thing. And the price on Viagra – too.
