Today, on a particularly gloomy evening, I am finishing a piece of work that, it seems, will soon be due. Going back over all the material gathered, the research done and above all the discussions between colleagues, I could not help thinking again about the importance of the process and of all the stages we followed to reach the final result.
I admit I spent a lot of time on it, so much that I was convinced I would not be able to meet the deadline, and yet here we are. We are there: one step away from handing it in, I feel I have done and given everything I could.
But the good thing that came out of all this “hard slog” and the huge amount of time spent lies in the pleasant feeling of having concentrated, paying the greatest attention to every single step of the whole process. Because it is not just about receiving praise, assessments or constructive criticism: it is about recognising, first-hand, the effort, the individual commitment without which we could not have finished the task we were given. In short, for me it has become something personal: I hate professional sloppiness and shortcuts that are too easy.
That is why for some time now I have been trying hard to get the best results, or at least I try, without skipping all those necessary actions I used to avoid on purpose to cut the time in half.
Yes, I was in a hurry to finish and I missed a lot of things, perhaps the most important ones. Lately I have understood that the whole set of actions I took, the energy I put in, brought me exactly where I wanted to get. But regardless of that, the path to get there allowed my colleagues and me to build a relationship of trust and mutual respect, something quite rare between people who are forced to work together on a project.
All this preamble to tell you that lately, when I am about to start a new piece of work, I often find myself thinking back to the ritual of the tea ceremony (don’t ask me why, I honestly would not know what to answer...). The tea ceremony (chanoyu or chadō) holds within it the importance of the whole process as a path of refinement, where every action stands for harmony and respect, all done in order to “feel” and be completely present.
For me it is the perfect synthesis of the thinking and the resulting action for any project I have in mind. Clearly this is my personal view of how a job well done should be carried out, because, to tell the truth, these days it is very easy to lose focus.
The tea ceremony is perhaps the most meaningful of all examples for understanding the importance of the procedure as the core, putting the goal in second place. I believe the ceremony is the right metaphor: every action performed leads to a result of inner harmony, the same one we feel when we complete a task and draw satisfaction and positive feelings from it.
But let us try to remember something about the tea ceremony.
Four fundamental principles coexist within the ritual:
wa (harmony)
kei (respect)
sei (purity)
jaku (tranquillity)
Through these steps, Japanese tea turns from a simple drink into an experience that invites inwardness, the bond between guest and host, and the appreciation of the present moment.
But can these four principles really be applied in everyday life? Perhaps some people practise them unconsciously without knowing it. Let us think about it.
The first principle (wa), harmony, if put into practice every day, could consist in interacting with our surroundings themselves and with the people we are with in the present moment.
So through simple actions, like cooking meals for our family, trying to connect with our surroundings (in this case our home), perhaps buying objects that somehow give us a sense of “warmth”, the same warmth (if you like) that we feel when we hold a cup of some hot drink, whether tea, coffee or something else, in both hands, drawing comfort from it and feeling a kind of, allow me the term, “inner peace”.
The second principle (kei), the one about respect, is perhaps the most demanding, because in a sense it would oblige us to welcome the other person, respecting them and encouraging kindness and listening.
At work, how many times do we talk with a colleague, listening without overpowering them, without interrupting? I have seen scenes beyond words... and yet sometimes it happens, because everyone is in a hurry to speak and never to listen... so perhaps we should go on by giving the person we are talking to a worthy form of reverence, recognising their dignity, like the tea master (chajin), who handles all the tools of the ritual with extreme delicacy and respect. Sounds easy, right? But it is not at all.
The third principle (sei), purity, consists in taking care, and we all practise it every day, perhaps when we clean the house daily like a ritual, with simple, automatic gestures that, once done, make us feel good.
The fourth and last principle (jaku), tranquillity, is reached after a great deal of practice, doing everything effortlessly and precisely. It can be linked to the work of a cook, who has to “keep” calm and precision, running the whole kitchen in the chaos of service.
Now, with a minimum of common sense, at work we can try to turn some of these principles into something more realistic.
When we are in the middle of a meeting or a coffee break, we act in certain ways that seem trivial but can somehow undermine future relationships. We must make an effort to be respectful of others, to start conversations that are as “honest” as possible, to allow mutual listening, trying to avoid pointless criticism or heated arguments over differences that are easy to overcome.
Still, a more welcoming working environment free of tension may be an impossible dream, but if we think carefully about it, it does not seem so unachievable after all.
How many of us have been lucky enough to find a working or school environment free of tension? Probably only a few... complaints are the order of the day.
So how could we create favourable conditions for a job well done? For many it is just theory: they aim straight at the result, and so the environment, even if sometimes oppressive, turns out to be just a side dish, and alas, what a side dish...
Not focusing on the process and on all the necessary actions involved does not let you widen your support network, whatever it may be. And it would very probably bring no psychological benefits or personal satisfaction.
In short, we should act intentionally to prepare the ground for the best possible result, whether working with others or on our own.
In education, to develop the difficult area of reciprocity, a whole series of steps and actions typical of the learning process are put in place, precisely to put at the centre how to study really well, and only afterwards to think about the final result.
These are stages that include personalised learning methods to motivate the student, and all this includes the constant support of a guide, whether a teacher, an educator or classmates, who, through group activities meant to encourage reflection and collaboration, can help reach the final goal.
So it happens, if we want it to happen. Until recently I believed mainly in goals reached quickly. But despite my efforts I sometimes forget the beauty of the whole process, and it is at such moments that I try to remember the steps of the tea ceremony. Because it is precisely with small steps that you build a process aimed at the final goal, with a series of actions carried out consciously, in suitable circumstances and, if possible, in a setting free of distractions.
And you, in general, when you have to work towards a goal, how much importance do you give to the whole process? Do you follow some steps, or do you rush ahead to get it in the shortest possible time?
