Now Squared

When I was eleven, my family and I piled into a white Ford Maverick for a road trip to Niagara Falls.  I had never been there and didn’t know what to expect.  We parked far from the falls – as my Dad was not one to pay for parking.  Even from that distance, I heard the distant roar and saw the towering mist clouds.  When we reached the edge, the site of four million cubic feet of water plunging 167 feet filled me with awe.

Yet, it was the view upstream from the falls that had the most lasting impact.   We walked a path that ran along the Niagara River.   Next to us the river raced and churned faster than any water I had ever seen.  There was no fence.  Only three feet of unobstructed space kept me from being swept down river and over the falls to a certain death.  The river seemed to call out to me, daring me to jump.  Inviting me to taste of its seductive power and test my skinny frame against its convulsive waves.  I moved to the far side of the path, shaken. Death had never seemed so close, and I wanted no part of it.

Rivers that race over waterfalls are powerful but chaotic.  There is only one way to harness that power to create electricity.  Focus.  Because the water pressure is too great to harvest all of a river’s force, a small part of the river is channeled into a conduit that sends the liquid plummeting through water turbines.  The rushing water rotates the turbines hundreds of times per minute, creating the necessary force to generate electricity.

Living on the leading edge of the present involves taking advantage of new ideas and new opportunities as they present themselves.  But this stream of ideas/opportunities needs to be channeled by our strategic focus to have optimal impact, just as a conduit channels the river current that turns water turbines to create electricity on the Niagara River.

In previous posts, I stated intuition means pattern recognition, and higher strategic elevations provide more data to recognize patterns. Just as a skydiver is better able to see road connections and waterways from 10,000 feet above the surface than while rushing headlong into an oak tree, we can better discern the pattern and direction of events from higher strategic ground.

But not too high of a strategic elevation.  Nor too low.

If our strategic elevation is too high, we end up floating in clouds of generalities and our intuition fails us because there is too much data to recognize patterns.  It’s like trying to harness an entire river for electricity.  The water pressure (i.e. the flow of ideas) is too great.

Strategic statements such as, “Our business strategy is to make money.  We will do so by being entrepreneurial” or “This year I will focus on being better” are too generic.  They are rudderless, providing no direction as to which plot of fertile ground we should search for ideas to try.

Likewise, if we set our strategy too close to the tactical trenches, we are likely to get sidelined by unexpected events.  A good clue that a strategic intent is too narrowly focused is its length.  The longer it takes to explain, the more likely it is too specific.

What is the optimal strategic elevation?

Sufficiently high to place strategic stakes in the ground that bring some order to the tactical chaos below.  In other words, we have to set the metes and bounds of our playing field, our area of focus.   We have to channel the river of ideas into a strategic conduit.

Strategy means making choices.  Not only choosing what activities to pursue, but even more importantly choosing what not to do.  It means deciding what won’t change.  What principles will we adhere to no matter what the circumstances.  We can’t do everything.  There are too many ideas, to much popping corn to catch.  We have to focus on what we can be the best at the world at.  Our intuition will help us know what that is.