Centripetal Force—You Have to Get Close

Aikido requires practitioners to do something very difficult. At the moment when a fight is beginning, you are asked to move toward your attacker—not away. This is one of the core principles of aikido. In Japanese, it's called irimi (pronounced “eerie-me”), which literally means “to enter.” Aikido is based on centripetal force. It's a grappling art, and as in all grappling arts, including wrestling, Brazilian jujitsu, and judo, to execute any of the techniques properly, you have to get close enough to your opponent to touch them.

Aikido is known as the martial art of peace. But that doesn't mean the goal is to avoid conflict—quite the contrary. When you are challenged, you are asked to move closer to that challenge, to confront the problem directly. Even if you're facing a stronger, larger opponent, you're asked to move in, to get close, to enter.

This focus on entering directly into conflict doesn't mean you are meeting your opponent's forceful attack with force. Your goal is still to blend with their energy and redirect it. But you can't do that from a distance. You have to get in close. Imagine you're facing a big opponent who's squared off, ready to punch you. When his arm moves, all his energy is directed outward. If you get closer to him, you will actually be safer, because you'll be inside the range of his arm where there is less power and force. And once you have gotten close to him, you'll be able to execute another move designed to redirect his energy.

This is exactly what I did with those girls in my high school aikido class. They were testing my authority and pushing aggression to the limit. I could have tried to make myself into a wall they could bounce off—but instead, I moved closer to the problem and redirected their energy.

When you're walking down a crowded sidewalk, you have to have some reaction to a person who's walking right at you. But in life, it's all too easy to avoid directly confronting a problem. You're swamped with work, but you don't want to admit it, so you stretch yourself to the breaking point to get everything done instead of going to your boss and telling her you've overburdened. Your relationship has hit the rocks, but the holidays are coming up, so you put off doing anything about it for a while. Your neighbor is driving you crazy playing loud music late at night, but instead of talking to him directly about it, you leave a passive-aggressive note.

As easy as it is to avoid direct confrontation, it's also easy to confront the wrong part of a problem. Instead of talking to your boss about your workload, you snap at your colleague who didn't finish his part of the project. Instead of having a real talk about the health of your relationship, you snap at your spouse for leaving dirty dishes in the sink. Maybe you call the cops on your neighbor and make a noise complaint. You take action—you force a confrontation—but it's the wrong action in response to the wrong problem. It's a distraction from the heart of the issue.

Aikido shows us a more elegant path. This path requires courage. It's the emotional equivalent of moving in close to execute a self-defense technique on the huge opponent who's attacking you. But it's the only way to actually solve a problem—move closer. Get to the heart of the matter. Enter.

Not Confronting a Problem Can Be Disastrous

Kodak provides a classic example of a business that failed to practice irimi. The company's failure to capture the opportunity provided by digital technology is infamous. In 2012, Kodak filed for bankruptcy protection and has since essentially exited the consumer camera market. That's a huge fall from grace for a company whose name was for decades synonymous with the idea of snapshots. The “Kodak moment” is a thing of the past.

Kodak had every opportunity to become a leader in digital photography. The digital camera was literally invented at Kodak, by one of their employees.¹ Steven Sasson, the engineer who created the first digital camera, has said he was told by management, “That's cute—but don't tell anyone about it.”

The story gets worse. In 1981, Sony brought out the first consumer digital camera. So Kodak commissioned research into this new phenomenon.² They wanted to know whether this digital thing was going to catch on, and how quickly. The answers that came back were almost eerily accurate: yes, and in about 10 years.

So what did Kodak do next? They worked on digital technology—and used it to build a film camera with a digital view screen on the back. The wrongheadedness here is almost funny until you remember all the people who lost their jobs because of this company's obstinate refusal to confront this existential threat to their business. This company literally invented the digital camera and then left it on a shelf for decades. They were told how long they had to solve the problem, and they did nothing.

The Real Cost of Avoiding a Problem

Confronting problems is painful and difficult, so we put it off. It's human nature. But as Kodak's story proves, that desire to avoid confrontation is a potentially fatal flaw. When Steven Sasson built that first digital camera, it sounds like Kodak managers knew exactly what they were looking at. “Don't tell anyone about it” was the response. In other words, this thing could kill our comfortable film-based business. So let's not talk about it. Let's sweep it under the rug. Let's pretend it never happened.

How often have you done that in your work or personal life? You hear that your company's quarterly results weren't great and layoffs are probably coming—and you sit tight and hope for the best. A customer explains exactly why they're switching to another vendor, but you don't tell your boss because the big rebranding project was his baby, and he's not going to like hearing that it didn't work. So you sit tight and hope the next meeting goes better. Your wife mentions wanting kids, and you've never wanted kids, but you don't say anything because—well, people can change their minds, right?

In 1981, when that research project gave them a clear deadline, Kodak could have sprung into action to get ahead of the trend and deliver a consumer-ready digital camera in 10 years or less. Instead, they reacted like so many of us do when we're given a timeline for a difficult or unpleasant task: They put off dealing with the problem. Ten years is a long time, you can imagine them thinking. We can sell a lot of film-based products between now and then.

Procrastinators, Take Notice!

Avoiding confrontation is one way we fail to practice irimi; procrastinating is another. Every time you put off that tough phone call, watch another episode of your favorite show instead of working on that application that's not due for another two months, or decide you'll stick it out at your dead-end job just until after the holidays, you fail to practice irimi. And the funny thing is, you know it. Procrastinators don't feel good about procrastinating. They are constantly living under the shadow of that problem they're putting off. They are thinking about that problem all the time. Procrastinating only increases their stress.

So why do we do it? Because irimi takes real courage. It would have taken real courage for a Kodak manager to be the one to stand up and say, “We all know we can't keep doing this film thing forever.” It takes courage to have that hard conversation. It takes courage to put yourself out there and apply for the job, fellowship, or grad program you've got your eye on. But summoning that courage and confronting the problem is the only way to succeed. It's the same kind of courage a student of aikido must summon in order to move closer to their opponent at a moment when they're under threat.

When they finally did start to develop digital technology, Kodak exhibited a third common failure to practice irimi: They took action, but not the kind of relevant action that would have taken them closer to the center of the problem. They brought out a camera with digital elements—that beautiful digital display on the back that let you preview your picture—but they didn't develop a digital camera. They were still wedded to film. And that left them with a product that didn't really make any sense.

In aikido, irimi means physically getting in close to your opponent's body. When a big brute is attacking you, you ignore the way he's swinging his arms and you move in close, going straight for his center of gravity. In business and in life, irimi means getting at the heart of the problem. Taking action on a tangential or related matter may make you feel like you're making progress, but in many cases it's really only holding you back. Building that half-digital camera held Kodak back from confronting the heart of the problem of digital technology, just the way that tidying your desk because you can't work in a messy environment can hold you back from actually doing your work.

How to Tell the True Problem from a Distracting Tangent

Sometimes finding the heart of a problem is easy. If the problem is a disagreement with someone, you've got to talk to them. But not every problem is so clear-cut. Kodak's problem is staggeringly obvious in retrospect, but if you put yourself in the shoes of a Kodak manager in 1989, you can imagine how it might have looked more complicated. Yes, digital technology is on its way, and yes, history only moves in one direction. But your whole business is built around film and printing. That's what you know how to do. That's what you pay your employees to do. Surely there's still going to be a use for those people and that know-how. Surely your whole conception of your business doesn't have to change.

Of course, that business did have to change. But from the perspective of a person in the middle of that situation, with all the fears and attachments that they've accumulated over the course of their career, it was confusing enough to put off taking action or to attack the wrong part of the problem.

So how do you find the heart of a complicated problem? Once you've summoned the courage to take action, how do you know the relevant action to take?

You have all the knowledge you need—you just need to free yourself to find it. You can do this by using some of the techniques we've discussed in previous chapters, such as meditating, summoning calm energy, and getting your “top 5 team” to help you. Your team can help you find the relevant course of action that you can't see because it's stuck in your blind spot. We need other people we trust to help us break through our resistance—our fear, ego, guilt, obligation—and enter close to the problem to see the solution we can't see.

Often, if you take a moment to clear your mind and sit still for a while, your subconscious will take over, do its job, and the right action will come to you. That's how the phrase “let me sleep on it” came about. When you sleep, your subconscious works wonders and often produces the right solution for you.

Confronting the Smartphone Problem

In 2010, I decided to remove e-mail from my smartphone. This was a huge step for me. I was as chained as anyone could be to that thing. I was looking at it from morning until night. Here was my morning routine for years; see if this sounds familiar. My iPhone alarm goes off, I reach over to turn it off and immediately start looking at work e-mails, text messages, social media posts, and a million other alerts that have popped up overnight. My heart rate increases, my stress levels spike, and my mind is polluted with worry about all the things I have to do. I quickly jump in the shower and eat breakfast (sometimes) and rush to get in front of my laptop. Then it's off to the races—a hamster on a wheel—spinning, running, working. Going nowhere. Getting nothing accomplished. Pretty soon, more panic would set in.

We live in a hyperconnected, 24/7/365, information-overloaded, distracted world. Can you believe that a recent study shows that we look at our smartphones, on average, 110 times per day?³ Some users look at their phone a whopping 1,000 or more times per day. Sixty percent of adult professionals with a smartphone are connected to work 13.5 hours per day—texting, e-mailing, talking, exchanging voice mail, using other specialized work apps.⁴ That is a 72-hour work week, at least. This leads to very little presence. Very little joy. No time off.

We're all aware of how corrosive the constant beeps and pings from our smartphones are to the quality of our attention and our ability to get real work done. We know these things stress us out. We know we can't do our best work for 13.5 hours a day. We moan and groan when we get that e-mail from the boss at 7 PM on Sunday night—and then we respond to it. We hate it when someone else is constantly checking their phone while we're talking to them, but we do it when they're talking.

Finally, in 2010, I decided I had had enough. It was time to practice irimi and confront this problem directly. Of course, living in this always-on, hyperconnected, demanding world of work is a huge problem, and there were a lot of steps I had to take to fully solve that problem and clear the mental and emotional space for me to do my best work. Faced with that huge problem, removing wireless e-mail from my phone might seem like a tangent or distraction. Wouldn't irimi require me to go straight to—well, changing my entire life to create an atmosphere of focus?

In this case, having e-mail on my smartphone was a small piece of a larger problem—but it was a part of the core of the problem, which was my attention was stretched too thin and I was trying to do too much. Removing e-mail from my phone was a step toward the core of the problem. It was an important step. And it produced immediate results.

Starting Small Is Still Starting

I remember a time before my e-mail purge when I was meeting with a client in my office. I was sitting across from this person trying to have a conversation—while looking at e-mail on my laptop. And also reading and answering a text that had just arrived.

Have you ever done that to someone? Or have you ever been the client in that situation and had some overdistracted vendor, boss, employee, husband, wife, friend, or child do the same to you? How did it feel? Pretty terrible, right? And what do you think happened to that client who sat in front of me while I was overly distracted? Yeah. He is no longer my client.

I've talked to a lot of people about this decision to remove wireless e-mail from my phone, and I hear the same reactions over and over: I could never do that or I wish I could, but my boss/spouse would never go for it. Well, I'm here to tell you that you can do it, and people will adjust. If it worries you, add a signature line to your e-mail that says something like, “I check e-mail three times a day during the workday. I will respond to your message as soon as I can.” And then stick to that plan. You'll be surprised how quickly people around you will get used to your new system. In fact, I'm pretty sure you'll find that people prefer the new, less distracted you.

When you remove the distraction of e-mail from your phone, you are starting to take back control. You are practicing irimi and maintaining your center, creating balance, harmony, and focus. Once you stop being reactive to inbound distractions such as e-mails, text messages, and social media posts, you can start to batch your time into focused, undisturbed periods of work.

Remember, “time management” is a myth—you cannot manage time. You can, however, manage your energy and focus. You can't solve the whole problem of the twenty-first century world of distraction at once, but you can take concrete, decisive action that will make an immediate difference in your own stress levels and the quality of your professional and personal relationships. That's irimi, and I promise you, if you do it, you will immediately feel how powerful confronting a problem can be.

The Power of Irimi

My consulting client Tom came to me with a huge problem. He was a manager at a global corporation, and his team worked out of several offices around the world. His direct reports were mostly engineers, and they weren't necessarily natural team players. These were people who liked to and were used to doing things their own way and solving problems on their own. He was really struggling to create a cohesive team out of this far-flung group.

As if that weren't tough enough, there was one very successful, big-ego player on the team, Evan, who was a real pain. He was constantly causing friction in the group because he was curt, even rude, with his teammates. He couldn't take advice or suggestions from anyone else. Given that the team was already struggling to work together, he was very clearly holding them back.

I coached Tom to confront the problem directly. He had spent months talking one-on-one to people, including Evan, trying to get them to be more cooperative and collaborative. He had talked to Evan multiple times about his attitude. But he hadn't been practicing irimi. He had been holding this problem at arm's length instead of entering on it and taking decisive action.

Tom and I worked together to come up with a plan. First, he needed to confront the problem of Evan. In the past, he had tried to nudge or encourage or even ask Evan to change his behavior. He'd talked to other people about how difficult Evan was and tried to help them come up with strategies for how to deal with him better. Now, with my support, he sat Evan down and gave him an ultimatum: He would have to change his attitude, or he was out. Fired. Gone. Sayonara.

That conversation was a huge step forward. Tom had practiced irimi by confronting a piece—a crucial piece—of the core problem of his disconnected team. Now he needed to keep going and get even closer to the heart of the problem. We worked together to design a training program for his team, and then he had them all fly in for two days of collaborative learning.

This training made a huge difference for the team. It brought them together so they could start to make personal connections with one another. And it gave Tom the opportunity to share his vision for the team's work, so they could see why he was prioritizing this project over that or asking them to do things in a certain way. Practicing irimi made a huge difference in helping Tom to transform this far-flung group of individuals into a true team.

You can circle a problem and learn about it and research and observe forever, but at some point, you have to enter and take relevant action. Aikido teaches us not to fear our fears, to solve our problems by confronting them directly and going straight to the heart of things. That's irimi, and it's incredibly powerful.