Bobby Mcferrin on expectations:

[see the complete video here]

Prof. Lawrence Parsons explains what happens:

“He [Bobby Mcferrin] takes a spatial metaphor which is essentially the keyboard.

Then he builds it up.

Notice he starts in a small interval and slowly expands it out.

The audience builds their expectation about what they’re going to sing. Then Bobby plays with that and expands it out.

He builds a melody, harmonizes, and improvises on top of it.

It starts with some shared knowledge, some shared expectations, then it’s improvised collectively.

There are elements of joint action and shared cognition.”

When was the last time you witnessed a presentation that involved joint action [working together] and shared cognition [thinking together]?

Here’s another example of Mcferrin working with an audience to make something beautiful: Unlike the first video (musicians & intellectuals) this audience is made up of everyday people who just enjoy music. They don’t understand how to engage with Mcferrin at first. He doesn’t grumble, insult, or yell at them. He simply explains the process another time and shows them how to participate. The final result is quite winsome:

Notice how the audience really, REALLY enjoys being a part of the final product?

There’s a lesson to be learned here. I’ll skip the bulleted list and take-away on this. I’d rather you sounded in. Readers, what do YOU think?

If you’d like to share a link to a favorite presentation or some thoughts on how a presenter might better engage you as part of an audience, I’d be grateful for your contribution!

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photo credit: sunxez

If you’re feeling snarky, skip this post. It probably won’t do much for you.

That said, take a look at this video:

Edward Boches pointed to the video as a reminder to be patient with one’s parents. I was reminded of something else–someone else. A mentor I had named Marla.

We had almost nothing in common. She was 65 years my senior, wore polyester with pride, and mentioned her dead husband at every turn. Marla also had a thriving case of Alzheimer’s. It was as if her memories had been strung together like tiny beads on an 84 year-long necklace only to scatter in gleaming rivulets when the string was cut. The disease wasn’t content to just cut the necklace. Before Marla had a chance to recover her memories most of them disappeared.

Not all the memories were lost though. If you’ve ever broken a necklace or spilled a bag of rice you already know that tiny things can be hard to clean up. Alzheimer’s had difficulty swiffering up all of Marla’s memories. There were still a few to be found and I was often the one listening when she found a memory. It was through those shared memories and the time around them that Marla taught me so much.

Why do I mention a little old lady with a failing brain in a post about mentorship? Because we are all, at this very moment, struggling with something. Each of us also has something to offer. True mentorship, in my estimation, connects people with complimentary strengths.

When I knew Marla, I was an insecure kid with a strong mind while she, in spite of her failing brain, knew how to be content. Marla didn’t stop trying to make great memories even though she knew they’d be gone as soon as they’d appeared. She never gave up. I continue to find her strength inspiring and her sudden bursts of thought entirely memorable.

One time, Marla asked me if I was seeing anybody. I said that I was but didn’t think it would work in the long term. Her response: “Is she missing a leg or something bad like that?”

Sometimes mentorship is just about gaining another perspective on something.

Marla always gave me that.

Just a few thoughts on a quiet evening. What’s your take?

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photo: wolfgang staut