I was thrilled - for the first time, my lyrics were set to music. Thanks to Suno, poor man’s AR Rahman! Since the language was a bit rough, I shared it only with my close friends. A few days later, I wrote another set of lyrics. This time, I approached it seriously and wrote something for ‘mass’ consumption. The philosophical song (https://suno.com/s/5BnhBDPGIQ4KsLDk) received rave comments - not from my friends, but also from people outside my circle.

But this newfound identity as a poet came with its own downside. I often placed myself under pressure to create something remarkable every time. I found myself constantly thinking about songs - writing, rewriting, discarding drafts, and starting all over again. And then there was the burden of harsh self-criticism. I was pushing myself too far, turning songwriting into a high-stakes project, despite knowing that no creative pursuit is truly a solo journey. With poetry, words often arrive on their own, as they say, it is a “spontaneous overflow” of ideas.

Vaali, a legendary Tamil poet, captured it beautifully, in a film song: “நான் காற்று வாங்க போனேன், ஒரு கவிதை வாங்கி வந்தேன்”. (I went for a walk, but returned with a poem.) It was literally the case with Sri Ramana Maharshi who composed Aksharamanamalai, a famous Tamil devotional hymn consisting of 108 verses, during his evening walks around Arunachala hill. Fortunately, a disciple who accompanied him noted down all the verses. As the hymn became popular among his followers, they asked him to explain the meaning in his own words. But Maharishi would simply maintain: “Ask the one who wrote it”.

A more scientific way to understand this “invisible poet” within us is this: There are two modes of thinking. There are two modes of thinking: the focused mode and the diffuse mode. When we consciously try to work with words, we are in the focused mode. But when we take a break, sleep over drafts, or go for a leisurely walk, we shift into the diffuse mode. This is when the subconscious mind gets a chance to play with words.The result is what we often experience as a revelation - the surfacing of poetic expressions from the subconscious mind.

When we remember that we are not alone in our creative pursuits, whether writing poetry or anything else, the process becomes natural and effortless, as life is meant to be.

Best,
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
https://www.sankarg.com/
+91-9790276206

Viewed through this lens, recent wars suggest a pattern: conflicts of interest (cue) lead to show of military prowess (action), aiming for regime change, territorial expansion, or control over resources (reward). Examples cited include Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Israel’s strikes in Gaza, and actions involving the US in Venezuela and Iran. This is a new - and troubling - trend.

The article contrasts this with how nations behaved after World War II. In the past, conflicts (cue) often led nations - strong or weak - to seek dialogue through the United Nations or existing treaties (action). The rewards included market access, technology transfer, development aid, or foreign direct investment. This is broadly how the rules-based order sustained itself for over 70 years. Europe - and much of the world - enjoyed relative peace. Now that international order is collapsing, and countries like the US are turning into rogue states.

Like any framework, CAR serves a useful purpose: it offers a coherent narrative to interpret events. Of course, there are other - and perhaps better - ways to interpret current geopolitical conflicts; much depends on the frameworks we choose. My point is that without frameworks, it is difficult to form opinions or make sense of events. Information alone is not enough. Reading countless news reports does not necessarily provide a coherent overall picture. The world is simply too complex. Only now does the idea of VUCA - Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, and Ambiguity - feel truly relevant, though it has been in use in business circles for nearly two decades.

“Framework” is often seen as technical jargon. It is an insider term. When I used it once, someone with an MBA from a prestigious university seemed taken aback. He made some sarcastic remarks. Perhaps, it was too much for him to bear someone with no education or training in management using an insider language. But frameworks are powerful thinking tools that all of us need. It helps in ideation, decision-making, and storytelling.

A well-known example is the 4Ps of marketing: Product, Price, Place, and Promotion. This framework can be used to analyse why products succeed or fail - whether a mobile phone or an automobile. It helps us explain why markets behave the way they do.

I have built a good collection of such frameworks. I have also created about a dozen frameworks across management, education, and spirituality. The recent one I created goes by the acronym FREE. I developed it to evaluate higher education options for my daughter, who is finishing school this year. FREE stands for Food, Reach, Exposure, and Extra-curricular activities. These are the factors I consider important. The college should offer good food (not always guaranteed, even in reputed institutions); be in a city that is accessible (either close to home or well connected); provide strong exposure (through faculty and peer quality); and offer opportunities for extracurricular activities and sports.

Right now I am collecting information. There are too many courses, cities, colleges, and career paths to consider. With FREE, I hope to bring some clarity in shortlisting options I can recommend to her. Of course, these may not be her criteria - and I remain open to that. That is a different story. At the very least, my recommendations will be based on a clear and reasoned approach. And perhaps that is what frameworks ultimately offer - not certainty, but a way to navigate uncertainty with intent.

Regards,
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com / 91+9790276206

The trigger for such defiance can arise in many ways. Sah cites examples such as questioning a misleading marketing strategy, pushing back against biased promotion practices, or challenging an initiative that crosses an ethical line. These are moments when professionals must decide whether to remain silent or to stand by their values.

One of the most insightful aspects of the article is the author’s explanation of the five stages of defiance.

Stage I: Tension.
It begins with a sense of unease - the feeling that something is ethically or professionally wrong.

Stage II: Acknowledgment.
The individual then identifies and names the value or boundary that is being challenged.

Stage III: Escalation.
The concern is voiced to others - through questions, conversations, or carefully worded emails - making the issue visible.

Stage IV: Threat of noncompliance.
At this stage, the individual signals that they may not support or participate in the decision if it proceeds unchanged.

Stage V: Act of defiance.
If the situation still does not improve, the person takes principled action - halting a project, refusing to comply, openly challenging the decision, or even walking away - to uphold their values.

Reading these stages, I found myself relating to them completely. Over the years, I have gone through similar phases many times across different organisations. On one occasion, I lost my job for correcting the grammar in my editor’s writing - an early lesson in the consequences that sometimes accompany speaking up.

In an organisational setting, such moments usually arise in two broad situations: when the brand is at risk, and when an individual’s rights are compromised. Both - an organisation’s reputation and a person’s dignity - are worth defending. In that sense, the art of defiance can be a powerful safeguard, and organisations would do well to include such discussions in their HR training or orientation programmes.

Yet, from a practical standpoint, one does not have to be defiant in every situation. At least not always when it comes to issues affecting the brand. When things go wrong and the brand owners themselves refuse to acknowledge the problem, there may be little we can do except remain silent observers. After all, it is their brand. How can we stand in the way of the downhill slide they so cheerfully steer the organisation into?

However, when something affects our own rights - particularly our work or work-life balance - silence is not the answer. In such cases, speaking up becomes necessary.

In my own experience, I have rarely hesitated to express my views to senior management. The only difference is that earlier I tended to be blunt and direct. Over time, I have learnt to communicate concerns more thoughtfully. Today, when I raise an issue, I do so in carefully chosen, polite language. The way we articulate our concerns often determines how receptive the listener will be. A measured tone can preserve relationships while still conveying the message.

At the same time, we must be cautious not to treat our own thinking as infallible. Before taking a firm stand, it is wise to examine our reasoning from different angles. Our logic must pass several tests before we place our full confidence in it - because it is always possible that we may be mistaken.

And there is one essential prerequisite: the willingness to accept the consequences. Speaking up may sometimes mean losing a job or business opportunities. That is why it helps to cultivate a simple way of life. When our needs are minimal and we are not burdened by excessive material commitments or EMIs, there is far less to fear.

A simple story illustrates this beautifully. A wise man once lived in a modest hut, surviving on porridge each day. A minister who visited him, impressed by his wisdom, remarked, “What a pity that someone like you lives in such conditions. If only you could adjust a little with the king, you could live comfortably in a palace.” The wise man replied calmly, “Why go through all that trouble? If I can adjust to this porridge, I can live happily right here.”

The greatest gift of simplicity is independence. When our needs are modest, we are less dependent on institutions or powerful individuals - and therefore less vulnerable to their anger or whims.

Many organisations and even nations endure today because of countless individuals who practised the art of defiance and were willing to sacrifice comfort for principle. We owe them immense gratitude.

Perhaps each of us can aspire to belong, in our own small way, to that tribe. After all, life is too precious and too beautiful to be traded away merely for the pursuit of material comforts.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com

Had I mentioned it, the conversation might have taken a different direction. I might have had the opportunity to discuss my contributions to the field, particularly the management frameworks I have developed in areas like Change Management and Co-Creation - something that could have been useful to him as well. Instead, we simply ended up talking about politics and a few politicians.

I generally prefer to keep a low profile. But that is different from not sharing relevant information. Withholding it - intentionally or otherwise - is hardly professional.

The gentleman I met is about 65 years old. He currently runs an HR consulting firm with a turnover of around Rs. 2,000 crore, which he promoted just a few years ago. This is actually his second successful venture in business. In between, he entered politics and even served as a minister in the Government of Tamil Nadu.

Despite being so well known, he carried his business cards and promptly handed one to me. It made me realise that it has been ages since I carried one myself.

Looking back, I must admit that I lived with low self-esteem for a long time. Whenever I met people with high educational qualifications, those who were rich and classy, or individuals holding high positions, I would easily slip into self-doubt. In their presence, I would become tongue-tied and self-conscious, often fumbling for words. Because of this, I missed countless career opportunities and also faced social setbacks.

I have come to believe that low self-esteem is, to a large extent, a product of society—and that it is often formalised in schools. I once wrote the following comment about this on Substack:

“School is a place where young minds develop superiority or inferiority complexes based on their performances in marks, grades, and scores - and most often carry them throughout their lives. Ironically, schools are supposed to be the very places that should show everyone how illogical these complexes are.”

Interestingly, that comment has so far become the most liked one I have posted there.

The world is not flat; our capabilities and possessions are not equal. However, this reality should not come in the way of anyone’s self-esteem. You have yours, and I have mine - that is the right attitude. Yet the way of the world is such that those who have often weaponise their advantages to tame those who have less. This is not limited to material possessions; it happens even with knowledge.

Tara Westover, author of the memoir Educated, captured this problem well when she observed:

“I worry that education is becoming a stick that some people use to beat other people into submission, or something people feel arrogant about.”

When societies fail to encourage people to develop self-esteem, they suffer. When organisations do the same, they decline. People do not leave societies or organisations merely because of a lack of economic opportunities; they also leave when they are denied the space to have self-confidence and self-esteem.

One can even link this subject to wars. For instance, a few days before Russia invaded Ukraine, there was a conference in India where Kay-Achim Schönbach, then Chief of the German Navy, spoke. He suggested that there was a way to prevent the conflict without firing a single bullet: give Vladimir Putin the recognition and respect he sought.

The senior naval officer said: “What he really wants is respect. And my God, giving someone respect is low cost, even no cost… It is easy to give him the respect he really demands—and probably also deserves.”

It could be true. Putin is an individual with an ego like everyone else. (It is another matter that Schönbach resigned the very next day over those comments.)

Coming back to my struggles with low self-esteem, I realise that I have come a long way. I still prefer to keep a low profile, but I no longer allow anyone’s wealth, knowledge, or power to undermine my self-esteem. Even if I momentarily tremble, I quickly regain my footing.

This transformation in my personality is largely a byproduct of my spiritual understanding that all beings are fundamentally one and the same. In fact, the spiritual quest truly ends when we stop believing that we are inferior - even to God.

I owe much of this perspective to my spiritual master, Sri Bagavath, an epitome of simplicity. He often says, quite matter-of-factly, that even God - or the demi-gods - are like us, except that they have different capabilities and duties. I find comfort in this idea of God - if such a being exists, and if we are indeed distinct from Him or Her.

Leave spirituality aside - it does not have to be a necessary pursuit for everyone. Even in the social realm, we truly arrive only when we begin to see everyone the same - and free ourselves from both superiority and inferiority complexes.

A friend of mine, Mr. Senthilnathan (are you reading this?), once quoted the Tamil poet Kaniyan Pungundranar from the Sangam poem Purananuru:

“பெரியோரை வியத்தலும் இலமே. சிறியோரை இகழ்தல் அதனினும் இலமே.”

Meaning: “I do not stand in awe of the great; nor do I despise the small.”

Amen.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com
WhatsApp: +91-9790276206

Hence, it all begins with the message - and its perceived value. Whenever I choose a topic for this newsletter (or for my speaking engagements), I find it a good practice to ask myself this question: If this were my last newsletter, what would I write about? Then the subject immediately comes to mind.

This is how I decided to write about the two important lessons I learned about the mind in this newsletter. Let me take you through them one by one.

Lesson One: Unwind Every Now and Then

We all know that the mind has two components: the conscious and the subconscious. And we also know that the subconscious mind is more powerful than the conscious mind. But not many know how to make use of the subconscious mind. We are never formally taught the technique if it exists at all. It took me ages to realise that not every problem can be solved by conscious effort alone. The solution is simple: unwind - take a break, especially when you feel stuck. Only when we (the conscious mind) let go can the subconscious mind, never directly under our control, begin to work things out for us.

Lesson Two: Do Not Confront the Mind

We know that there are two entities within us: the mind and the intellect. The intellect knows what is right and what is wrong. It takes a stand. The mind, on the other hand, often goes against the intellect.

Moralists, spiritual masters, and life coaches urge us to control the mind. They ask us to purify it, to cut attachments with the sword of detachment (“asaṅga-śastra” in the Bhagavad Gita), even to annihilate it. But what we have to realise is that dealing with the mind only strengthens and empowers it. Trying to improve its quality can become an endless internal struggle.

We simply have to shift our attention away from the mind - ignore it or disengage from it, and simply follow the intellect. In astrology, it is said that Shani Bhagavan (considered as a bringer of hardships), turns his attention to you only when you fix your attention on him. The mind too acts in a similar way. Let go of the desire to control the mind, for it is a self-healing, self-purifying, and self-learning mechanism. Giving it freedom frees us from internal conflict.

Understanding these truths can be a turning point in our lives. Only then do we begin to live by our own choice, guided by will and wisdom.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com
+91-9790276206 / sankar at sankarg dot com

• “Everywhere you look, someone is fixing themselves. Healing, upgrading, optimizing, aligning, manifesting.”

• “The idea that you are fundamentally broken is the ego’s most profitable myth. It keeps you busy. It keeps you buying.”

The messages aligned with my spiritual understanding that one does not have to practise spirituality to be spiritual.

However, soon, a string of complex, abstract, and esoteric ideas appeared. Sample the following:

• “Real awakening is deeply inconvenient.”

• “It does not make you special. It makes you ordinary in a way that feels suspiciously infinite.”

• “Meditate, yes. Pray, yes. Sit, walk, breathe. But notice what is already aware before the instruction arrives. What is aware of awareness?”

• “It (awareness) is quietly watching you try very hard to become what you already are.”

This is what I meant. This is how most spiritual books are written. They can make us feel that they are presenting a profound message, but only we are unable to understand it. We feel lesser - and helpless. They give us the impression that we need to strive more: to know, to realise, to attain. And unknowingly, we buy into such ideas.

Jiddu Krishnamurti says: “Ideas have become far more important to us than action - ideas so cleverly expressed in books by the intellectuals in every field. The more cunning, the more subtle those ideas are, the more we worship them and the books that contain them.”

There are not many takers for simple ideas in any field - definitely not in spirituality. For example, the books of my spiritual guru, Sri Bagavath Ayya. His writings do not reach beyond a small circle. His core message is that the mind is automatic. Thoughts come on their own, and leave on their own. Gaining this simple intellectual understanding is the so-called Enlightenment. So do his speeches. I am convinced it is because they are not cunning enough.

In spirituality or otherwise, the truth is often simple. But when the world worships complexity and cunningness, we get confused and run after them.

There are two ways to escape intellectual traps. One is not to get enticed by subjects that have no relevance to our lives. To quote U. G. Krishnamurti, an enlightened master and a critic of JK:

“The knowledge that is necessary for functioning in this world - like language, practical skills, and technical know-how - is the only useful knowledge. All psychological knowledge is a burden.”

And second, even in our own subjects, to be prepared to err on the side of simple logic. What Warren Buffett said along these lines is worth remembering: “Beware of geeks bearing formulas”. For complex formulas can look impressive but may hide shaky assumptions.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam

For us, however, much of life is familiar. We move through our days on autopilot. When experiences are repetitive and predictable, we end up feeling bored, and time seems to move faster. The suggestion, therefore, is simple: introduce novelty into life. Try new food, take a different path to the office, change the way you work, wear new clothes. This way, we break routine and engage consciously. Then life may begin to feel fuller and longer.

But one thing that is missing in the equation is that unlike children, adults have so many things to do, and the pressure of the next task exists all the time - even while on holiday. Hence, we constantly glance at the clock, and experience that it is moving too fast. As Einstein said, time is subjective and relative. While children are time-rich, we feel time-poor.

Trying new things is fine. Equally important is how we structure our day. When it is possible to carve out some time for us to be agenda-free, the magic happens. We can experience the slow time once again.

There are a few practical techniques to try for oneself. Here they are:

1. Don’t fill every time slot with focused activity

2. Don’t neglect to allocate time for some buffer and also for routines

3. Importantly, always leave some time as unscheduled

In this regard, the 16:6:4 ratio can be a guide. It says that in a 16-unit time window (each unit consists of 15 minutes), it is ideal to schedule only 6 units of time for focused activity, and set aside 4 units of time as unscheduled. Focused activity could include both work and life-balancing pursuits - a mix of exercise, a hobby like reading, or catching up with a friend.

Doesn’t the activity allocation look lovely!

This way, we will have enough time for routines (including having breakfast or lunch, commuting, and housekeeping) that we generally treat as unavoidable unproductive or non-value adding tasks, and hence rush through them.

The important thing is to leave out at least 4 boxes / time units as unscheduled. No particular activity. We do not have to do anything, but we can do anything we like, including taking a nap.

It is these boxes that give us an opportunity to be a child for some time. Like children, we become time-rich and agenda-free. Now, our experience of time enters a new dimension.

Not rushing through routines and experiencing slow time has many benefits - more than we think we could achieve with non-stop work. First, this is good for our health. Free time is an effective antidote to what cardiologists call ‘hurry sickness’, an insidious killer that drives people to do more, and to do it faster, as if there were no tomorrow.

Doing nothing for a while is also good for productivity. We become rejuvenated and come back to the task with a new dose of energy. And this is also good for creativity, because when our conscious mind is away from work, our subconscious mind takes over, and throws up new ideas to solve the problem the conscious mind has been grappling with.

The clock will keep ticking. But once in a while, if we leave a few boxes empty, we may find that time waits for us.

Best regards,
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com / +91-9790276206

This categorisation is based on Kakeibo, a century-old Japanese method of tracking expenses. I practice this to spend more mindfully. Simply knowing where the money goes - and why - helps one understand what can be done about it. Unnecessary expenses naturally fall away, and the savings grow.

I came across Kakeibo a few months ago through a social media post and adopted the practice right away. I badly needed it, as I had grown loose with my spending. I was one of those people who would go out with a fat purse and return with an empty one. Naturally, dry days would follow. It was common for me to have days with no money left to spare - not even for a cup of tea.

A dry day is sickening. It takes away even the smallest joys of life. My real challenge was improving my spending discipline. I bought book after book on finance, savings, and investments - The Richest Man in Babylon, The Parable of the Pipeline, The Psychology of Money, The Art of Spending - you name it, I read it. Mindful spending runs through all of them.

In The Parable of the Pipeline, there’s an interesting case of an American middle-school teacher named Margaret who becomes a millionaire. Her salary was modest, but when she died at the age of 100, she left two million dollars to charity. She lived frugally and invested in stocks - that was her secret.

Gaining financial freedom isn’t rocket science. As Thirukkural 478 reminds us, it doesn’t matter how much you earn, as long as you don’t spend beyond what you earn. Spending is fine - as long as it’s done mindfully.

If you want to try Kakeibo, this is what you can do. Start by listing your fixed expenses and the amount you want to save. Subtract this from your income. What remains is your disposable income. Track how you spend this amount using four categories: needs, wants, culture, and unexpected.

If you like, you can also set a budget - it’s a good idea. A budget gives you a goal to work toward.

Decide on that goal after talking it through with everyone in the family. When people are part of the decision, they understand why you say no to certain expenses. Taking the family along isn’t optional; it’s essential.

May you never have a dry day.

Cheers
Sankar G
Rajapalayam

My depression lingered for months, and I feared I would be tethered to psychiatric medication forever. But one day, I reached a breaking point. I walked away from the clinical world of hospitals and sought answers in ashrams instead. If I needed a pill to make me smile, I didn’t want that happiness. It was listening to spiritual discourses and trying some spiritual practices that I regained the strength to leave my medication behind. Two decades have passed, and that temporary pharmacological support is now a distant memory.

Years of spiritual seeking eventually led me to a deeper understanding of the mind. I began my search hoping to find ways to control it, only to end with a simple realisation: there is no need to control the mind at all. The mind is automatic. It functions on its own; nothing needs to be done about it. This spiritual realisation is a simple psychological insight, as simple as understanding that the heart functions on its own. Hence, I often wondered whether there is truly a difference between psychology and spirituality. After all, both disciplines peer into the same inner depths, and both share the same noble aim: to bring an end to human suffering.

Spiritual Masters have always scoffed at the idea of equating their path with psychology. They maintain that spirituality is divine and sacred - but when I asked how psychology was any less so, I found no answers. It took time for me to realise that these two fields are, indeed, poles apart. Psychology works by arming us with knowledge of our mind. It gives language and models to our mental problems. Spirituality, by contrast, invites us to be blissfully ignorant, letting go of the need to analyse the problems at all.

Adults are psychologists in their own right. We all hold theories about our individual minds - how they work, why they fail, and exactly how they create our problems. My father is no different. He complains that he cannot nap in the afternoon. He says he is fine until one o’clock, but at that exact hour, his mind ‘switches on’ to produce all sorts of negative thoughts, and sleep becomes impossible. His possession of this knowledge of his mind is what steals his sleep.

Spirituality suggests that our ‘knowledge’ of the mind is merely a man-made illusion. We don’t actually know our minds; we simply assume we do by stitching together fragments of past experiences. In truth, there is no ‘one o’clock mind’ - only the memory of one. This is the real science: the acknowledgment that we can never truly know what the mind is. For instance, who can say what their very next thought will be? No one. If we are truly ignorant of the mind’s next move, how can we ever build a definitive theory around it?

Spirituality asks us to ignore the mind’s noise and refrain from ‘knowing’ our problems into existence. The solution is to turn our backs on the mind - not in fear, but in wisdom. ‘The mind is garbage,’ says Sri Ramana Maharshi. ‘After you dump the garbage in the trash can, will you peck at it?’ There is no need. This is the essence of blissful ignorance: the state of a child who knows nothing of the mind’s history. When a child feels fear, they don’t think, ‘This is the same fear I felt yesterday at this exact hour.’ They don’t look for triggers or dread tomorrow’s repeat performance. They are ignorant of patterns, and in that ignorance, they are free. Spirituality leads us back to this innocent stage. Innocence is the only medicine - and the only truth - as far as the mind is concerned.

My father still struggles. Sometimes he actually falls asleep, but then the memory of one o’clock flashes through his mind and his eyes snap open. He has learned his mind too well. In the end, sleep is the price we pay for such knowledge, and for being a psychologist of our own.

Best,
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com

That reflection led to a simple realisation: less is more. I would need only one or two key ideas - not many - to justify my role and make the message easy for the students to understand and remember.

When I finally spoke, I focused on just two books: ‘What Management Is?’ by Joan Magretta, and ‘What The CEO Wants You to Know?” by Prof. Ram Charan. I shared a few interesting insights from each and encouraged the students to consider reading them to gain a deeper understanding of their subject. That was all.

There was no cognitive overload for the students, even though I spoke for about fifteen minutes. I, too, felt more at ease - because I had only one thing to “sell”, and I was completely comfortable with the topic. I understood both the essence and the details of these two books well enough that I could have done my job in five minutes - or, if needed, spoken for an hour.

Less is more is a golden rule in public speaking - not just in terms of content, but also in the effort that goes into preparing a speech. Overpreparation can invite problems, regardless of what we are doing.

In his book, Effortless, Greg Mckeown writes: “behind almost every failure of my whole life I had made the same error. When I’d failed, it was rarely because I hadn’t tried hard enough, it was because I’d been trying too hard”. He shares an experience: A high-profile technology company invited him to give three leadership presentations, and if the first one went well they’d hire him for a long-term engagement. It was a big career opportunity he really wanted. He already had a presentation prepared that the client had approved, but the day before the talk he became convinced it wasn’t good enough. He scrapped the whole thing and stayed up all night rewriting every slide and handout around a new idea he thought would impress - none of which was tested or polished.

The next morning he was exhausted and foggy, and once he started speaking the whole thing fell apart. His opening story was unpolished, the slides were unfamiliar so he kept turning his back to read them, and his slides failed to make the point he intended. In short, he bombed the presentation. The client naturally canceled the remaining two presentations and did not hire him. His presentation became, “my most humiliating professional failure - ever.”

As for why we tend to overdo things, Greg explains: “We are conditioned over the course of our lifetimes to believe that in order to overachieve, we must also overdo. As a result, we make things harder for ourselves than they need to be. But trying too hard often makes it harder to get the results we want.”

My take is slightly different. I see two main reasons for our tendency to overdo things. First, we often do not clearly understand what is actually expected of us. Second, we take ourselves too seriously - mistaking this seriousness for an attempt to exceed expectations.

In anything we do for others, we must remember that people value simplicity, regardless of the product - be it a speech or a piece of software. We should define the scope very clearly, keeping this in mind. Equally important is making sure that our processes are simple too.

Our “inner speech” - our thought patterns - and our “inner software”, the mind, may constantly push us to overdo things for the reasons mentioned above. Unless we consciously step aside from these impulses, we will end up overthinking, overdesigning, overengineering, overspending - and eventually underperforming.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com / Whatsapp: +91-9790276206

The mother was concerned that her daughter (let’s call her Sita) was preoccupied with the program throughout the week, spending far too much time collecting points for her topic. She would relax only after she had finished sharing her notes. Naturally, the mother was wondering what could be done about this.

When I heard this, I understood both her concern and what Sita was probably going through. I had once been very much like Sita. I lived under the tyranny of preoccupation with my own routine tasks—writing this newsletter, for instance (which I have been doing for about fifteen years).

I would spend an inordinate amount of time just choosing a topic, then days organising content, setting the flow, writing and rewriting. And just when it was time to share, I would discard the draft and start afresh with an entirely new topic! It wasn’t limited to newsletters; this was how I approached almost everything in life.

But today, I am free of this tendency.

These days, I am relaxed about almost any task. There is no constant preoccupation—and therefore no overthinking, no missing out on life too much. When I reflected on what contributed to this shift in mindset, four factors stood out clearly:

1. Scheduling (breaking tasks into sub-tasks and allocating time for each)

2. Understanding that the process is simple

3. Trusting that things will turn out well

4. Taking mistakes or shortcomings in stride

The first—planning and scheduling—is a logical way to ease preoccupation. Once I know the sub-tasks and the time allotted to each, I can tell myself that I don’t need to do anything right now. There is always tomorrow. But without a schedule, this sense of relaxation doesn’t arrive.

The second factor—simplifying everything—is especially important. Beginners in any craft have a natural tendency to overcomplicate things. Whether it is writing, speaking, or playing a sport, they add layers that are unnecessary. There is a strange attraction to complexity—complicated explanations and processes.

This reminded me of an interview with Anthony Hopkins, the four-time Oscar-winning actor known for The Silence of the Lambs. He said, “When young actors ask me what acting really is, I tell them: ‘Read your lines well, go in front of the camera, and act.’” Many feel he is oversimplifying and insist there must be more to it. Then he would add, “Do whatever else you want—but don’t be hard on yourself.”

Coming to the example of writing, what is so difficult in this pursuit? It is just about following the dictum like this one: ‘Have something to say, and say it as clearly as possible’.

The third factor is trust—and this is crucial. We cannot have answers for everything in advance. Preparation can take us only so far; beyond that, we must trust that clarity will arrive, that things will open up at the right moment.

I see this clearly in writing newsletters. I may carry a few rough or vague ideas from the previous day, but when I sit down to write, the writing happens. There is nothing to brag about. After all, this is something I love doing, and it lies well within my capability.

Finally, there is no such thing as perfection. Things can always go wrong. In anything we do—playing a sport, speaking in public—small slips are inevitable. This is completely natural. There can never be a textbook case of execution every time. So when we make a mistake, it is no reason for self-criticism. One short “ouch” is more than enough.

I will be sharing some of these thoughts with Sita soon. Or at least this one simple message: if she loves learning, she should also find joy in the process of learning. Whatever takes that joy away deserves our attention.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com
09790276206

“How many of you think you are good singers?” As expected, only a few students raised their hands. Then he asked a second question: “If I had asked this when you were in kindergarten, how many of you would have raised your hands?”
The answer was obvious: “Almost all of us.”

Many students realised—perhaps for the first time—how negative feedback had slowly eroded their confidence. They saw how they had abandoned interests they once loved simply because they believed someone else’s words. His speech stayed with me. I now use the same question in my workshops, and the reaction is always the same: students recognise how feedback shaped their confidence in singing, dancing, drawing, and many other skills.

Whether you are teaching or learning, you must understand this: sharing and handling feedback—including the internal feedback that comes from our own mind—is one of the greatest skills. It can make or break your chances of developing any other skill, whether it is public speaking, writing, or badminton.

Over the years, I have come to see feedback not as “positive” or “negative”, but as eliminating or non-eliminating. Eliminating feedback is deeply personal. It tells you that you are not good at something, that you can’t make it, that you are not made for it. It wipes out the possibility of growth. It is almost like saying the world is better off without you in that role. For instance, telling someone, “You don’t have what it takes to be an entrepreneur,” is not just a negative feedback or comment—it is an existential threat to their aspiration. This kind of feedback is damaging and should never be given.

In society—and in our own minds—we are both victims and villains in this cycle. Sometimes we give eliminating feedback to others and even go a step further: we “eliminate” people themselves. We push them out of our friend circles, family circles, or workplaces instead of assuring them of their place, pointing out their mistakes, and helping them grow. And at other times, we stand at the receiving end. Through harsh self-talk, we quietly eliminate our own chances of flowering in one arena or another.

However, the non-eliminating feedback is fundamentally different. It is reassuring: “You are here to stay. There is no threat to your identity. You only need to work on A, B, or C to improve”. The non-eliminating feedback may include pointing out mistakes. It is fine. It is important. And, it is still constructive because it points out the scope or potential, not threatens the existence.

We must develop the discrimination to see the difference. Whenever feedback—internal or external—threatens your very ability to grow, it must be discarded immediately.

Some experts recommend ignoring feedback altogether. “If someone calls you a fool, they are defining themselves, not you,” they say. I remember Don Miguel’s tenet: “Don’t take anything personally”. It is pointing in this direction. Here “anything” means what people and your own mind say about you.

Another example is Timothy Gallwey. In his book, The Inner Game of Tennis, the author argues that “inner chatter”—another name for the conscious mind, has to be totally ignored, so that the muscle memory (which is subconscious) plays the game. His solution is to silence or divert the conscious mind - that keeps on giving feedback or comments about the player’s game, by getting it to focus on the ball, its seams, or surrounding sounds. The underlying message: “Don’t listen to your mind”.

But feedback - internal or external, can be extremely useful. Marshall Goldsmith, in What Got You Here Won’t Get You There, emphasises that behavioural change (a skill in itself) requires feedback—360-degree feedback from colleagues, family members, and friends. Feedback arrives through words, tone, and even body language. If we want to grow in any field, we need to pay attention, he says.

This is practical. The mind and society offer plenty of useful cues, suggestions, and ideas—and we must make use of them. What we truly need is the discriminating power to see which feedback destroys and which feedback develops, and accordingly, what to ignore and what to use. That’s all.

Cheers!
Sankar G
Rajapalayam
www.sankarg.com
+91-9790276206