#183: A little more Sigourney Weaver
Dear friends
For those of you inspired by the Springboks, but despairing that South Africa (indeed the world) seems to not have many other leaders, I have just bought Imtiaz Sooliman and the Gift of the Givers by Shafiq Morton and Caster Semenya’s The Race to be Myself.
Dr Sooliman and Caster Semenya are exemplars of compassion, humanity, humility, and bravery that are an inspiration and a standard for all of us. They remind us that it is possible to shape a world of connection and care. I look forward to sharing them with you.
/ strategy
Michael Gervais is a performance psychologist who works with elite athletes.
In a recent HBR podcast he says that our instinctual reaction to them is ‘gosh, look at them, they’re different’, but in saying that, “What we miss is the grind that they go through. The fundamental commitment that they make every day to go, at practice, right to the messy edge of what they’re capable of, to be critiqued and judged by their peers, by their coaches and not to be overrun by that judging, feedback, critique system. Instead, they’re working from a first principle that says, ‘I want to grow, I want to see how good I can get’”.
In business life our default is to treat every day like match day, but where do we practice?
What might a practice session look like in your business, where you give people the courage to go their edge and provide the safety that the critique and the feedback is there to make them better?
How might you strengthen yourself so that you can hear feedback, whether it comes with care or as an attack, as an opportunity to improve?
The pressures of organizational life are that we’re always looking for improvement (indeed, if we’re honest, we often hope for perfection).
Elite athletes teach us that it comes from practice, from having a space where it is okay to stretch, fail, and learn.
// self
In last week’s letter I introduced you to Guy Raz’s Great Creator interview with Sigourney Weaver, here is a little more insight.
Weaver came from a successful creative family. She acted throughout university. You’d expect that she always knew she’d be an actor. She didn’t. In fact, it was a constraint, she reflects that because she was surrounded by so many professional actors and musicians she ‘never had the nerve to say I belong at that level’.
When she started at Stanford, she studied literature, immersing herself in Shakespeare and Chaucer. In an earlier interview with the Stanford magazine, she comments that towards the end of her studies, she was getting bored, the courses were becoming “a bit dry – critics on critics”.
She headed to Yale for postgrad drama studies, but there her teachers told her she wouldn’t make it, damaging her confidence. She comments, “Life will tell you quickly enough in this business whether or not you can make it, without your teachers discouraging you”.
It took until her mid-20s for her to truly feel that she may want an acting career. At that point, she was living in New York doing what she describes as ‘off-off-Broadway’ plays and says, “I was interested in the adventure of what I was doing. I just loved what I was doing, and I hoped, I hoped, that I could make a living at it, but I was not at all clear that I could”.
The adventure kept her hooked and there was one other key variable – her parents didn’t pressurize her to show that she could make a living. It may sound flippant, it certainly is luxurious, and it is essential for innovation, if you’re on an adventure, loving what you’re doing, you need a way to cushion the costs of survival.
Whether you’re transforming a business or your life, it comes down to the same things.
One, does the challenge inspire you enough that you keep going even when it’s tough? Two, do you have cash reserves to sustain you whilst you learn? (It’s very useful to keep costs down. It extends your runway).
And then, she finds herself in a room with director Ridley Scott, doing an initial casting for the role that would change her life – Ellen Ripley in Alien.
She says that, in retrospect, her approach was a touch unconventional. She felt the script had weaknesses and she wanted to know “if this man sees the script the way I do, that it’s not perfect, that there’re things should that be discussed”, reflecting, “I mean I basically came in as an English major and we had a little class about the script…”
As she did so, she said she could see the casting agent trying to catch her attention, trying to will her to be ‘sweetness and light’, but no, like Pixar director Domee Shi, who we discussed a few weeks ago, she embraced her inner weirdo. As we know, it worked, she got the role and in doing so she and Scott changed what the world thought was possible.
Being true to herself, engaging with genuine curiosity and a desire to contribute, and drawing on her skills and knowledge – that Standford literature major – made her stand out.
But there was one final hurdle to overcome. Herself.
Weaver had only ever acted on stage. This would be her first film. Could she do it? She calmed herself, telling herself that she’d being doing ‘off-off-Broadway’ for years and Alien was an off-off-Broadway script. It was a powerful reframing. It is a tactic we can all use, find ways to understand our current challenge in the context of places where we feel safe and comfortable. Draw the parallels. Integrate the lessons. Act with that insight. It gave her the courage to continue. It was the start of more than forty years as one of the world’s leading performers.
/// soul
Wanjiru Koinange does to us what Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀ did In A Spell of Good Things. She breaks our hearts. She leaves us wondering whether there is hope in the world.
In The Havoc of Choice, Kavata’s husband, Ngugi feels his choices narrowing. In desperation he follows paths opened for him by the Hon Muli, his corrupt father-in-law. That path leads him into Kenya’s 2007 election, an election whose aftermath was one of brutal violence, a wrenching that ripped open wounds, and left new scars.
In Koinanga’s telling, Kavata cannot stomach her husband’s choice and so, in desperation, she makes her own. Each act, a ripple, until, coinciding with other surges, they become waves washing away life.
Adébáyọ̀ showed us corrupt wealth keeps no-one safe. Koinange tells us the same. Both tell us of a cascading pollution, washing innocents along, innocents who have no hope, who do not overcome triumphantly, who are left wounded, diminished, struggling. They tell the story of our world.
Neither is an easy read; both must be read. Both tell us that without choices, desperation sets in. Both tell us, if we ignore corruption, in its myriad forms, it will wash through our doors.
All the best
Karl
PS: You can find all our previous letters and subscribe here, and if you’d like to meet me – whether to speak about these letters, life, or being coached by me – you can book an (free, no obligation etc etc) appointment here.