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Grossly Informative
Last weekend I had the unique opportunity to participate in a social experiment: a full day event titled Grossly Informative: Conversations That Matter.
The workshop was the brainchild of Adrian Pyle and Dan Donahoo, and brought together a collection of interesting, opinionated individuals for the purpose of making (and consuming) a meal together. Fundamentally, the experiment’s goal was to answer the question, “How integral is a meal to the quality of conversation?”, although this is a simplification. The day was essentially a prototype of the events to come: preparing (and eating) the food, followed by a workshop discussing the format that future events should take.
I pulled together a sketchnote of the day, which captures my memories of the meal, a snapshot of the people involved, and the questions we tried to tackle. If the project intrigues you, I’ve penned some longer thoughts below on what I thought worked about the workshop, what didn’t, and what might be worth considering for future events.
The invitation
The invitation came in the form of an email. I received it well enough in advance that I couldn’t use “I’ve got plans” as an excuse. I didn’t really feel like I understood the concept well, but was honoured to be asked to be involved. I suspect once the format of these events is fleshed out some more, the invitation will become more elaborate. There’s certainly plenty of potential here — a box? An artifact? A postcard to write your thoughts on afterwards?
The people
Invitees to the workshop included designers, developers, government employees, poets, entrepeneurs, life coaches, and folks from a range of backgrounds. While there was a spectrum of age groups, most people were in their 30s, well-educated and articulate. I felt like the group got along extraordinarily easily, perhaps because there was so much common ground. I’d be curious how long it would take the same level of rapport to be reached with a more diverse group.
The purpose
For a good chunk of the day, I was a bit confused about the goals of the project. Partly, this was because I had family commitments in the morning and arrived late, so missed the all-important briefing at the start.
As I mentioned above, this was an experiment and a prototype of future meals, but I still couldn’t help feeling like the concept had huge potential that was being unrealised. At the very least, I’d like to see future events contain a theme of some sort, to guide conversations. I don’t know what that theme should be, but I’d hope that it would be ambitious (and different for each meal). Whether it be related to social issues, environmental issues, domestic issues … I’m not sure what would work best for each combination of individuals (if conversations became too political, it could get ugly). But by the same token, if the goal of the event is not ambitious, then it just becomes a pleasant meal with a collection of interesting people. I think the organisers should aim higher than that.
Not everyone agrees with me on this — several of the attendees I spoke with suggested that there was sufficient value having zero constraints, and letting the conversations happen naturally. While I agree that this could be valuable to some, it doesn’t align with the concept of nurturing “grossly informative” discussions, nor does it encourage “conversations that matter” (the tagline). To help an group of interesting, intelligent people realise its full conversational potential, the bar needs to be set higher. Much like in design, constraints can often form the spark of creativity, not limit it.
The meal preparation
Dan and Adrian guided proceedings, but very much played an observer role — including deliberately not leading the meal preparation (they provided ingredients, utensils, and a kitchen). Because the group contained a high number of mature, motivated, self-starters, the meal just happened. Teamwork, delegation … the factory line just fell into place and the resulting luncheon consisted of a delicious selection of pizzas with varied toppings, followed by a tasty fruit salad. The table was set, and Katie, one of the attendees, added a delightful touch with a short, thoughtful poem written on a coloured piece of card. In many cases these provided the spark for conversation.
Group dynamics
In the afternoon Dan and Adrian ran some more formal exercises designed to elicit our feedback on the structure of these events. As I mentioned, the group functioned surprisingly well. On occasion, the stronger personalities commanded the lion’s share of the conversation, but overall I think everyone had an opportunity to voice their thoughts and shape the conversation.
The capturing
One topic that arose during the workshop was how such an event should be captured. In particular, several noted that being “in the moment” often makes it impossible to capture the conversation, and a stream of Twitter updates documenting the conversations is unlikely to make for riveting reading. Videos of everything also seems over the top, but it was agreed that something like asking each attendee to write a blog post, reflecting on the event, seemed like a reasonable way to capture, promote, and continue the discussions had on the day. This post is my attempt at that.
Reflections
I’ve had a few days to process the first ever Grossly Informative event. All up, it was a very enjoyable day and a worthwhile experience — I met some interesting people and enjoyed a fabulous meal and pleasant conversation. Honestly, though, I can’t say I really had any “conversations that matter” or came away feeling “grossly informed.” Perhaps that is unfair, given the intention was very deliberately not for the workshop to be a platform for creating social change or solving the world’s problems, but rather a forum for discussing the concept. And perhaps it’s my fault for not guiding conversations that I had with people to such a degree.
All up, I think a structured meal like Grossly Informative has huge potential to facilitate understanding between individuals from different social, economic, ethnic and political backgrounds. Preparing a meal shortcuts the hurdles to striking up rapport with a stranger. With that in mind, I’d love to see the goals for the project set much higher than that of satisfying one’s curiosity. If a group of strangers are able to reach that level of understanding in an accelerated timeframe, then it seems only natural to me that the resulting dynamic should be harnessed for some grander purpose other than “because it’s fun” (which it was).
To me, the question of “How integral is a meal to the quality of conversation?” has been well and truly answered — the answer is: it’s crucial, but it’s not the only factor. I hope that future events will harness what we’ve all learned from the exercise, and use the information for something amazing.
Tags: grossly+informative, sketchnoteHow To Donate Hair In Melbourne
About to get a haircut? Hold up there, sailor! Have you considered donating your hair? Donated hair can be made into a wig for someone who has lost their hair from radiation treatment for leukaemia or another form of cancer.
If your hair is long and in good condition (see the checklist on this American site) then your lovely locks may make excellent wig material.
Here’s what you need to do in order to donate your hair to be made into a wig for cancer patients in Victoria, Australia:
- Grow your hair long. Obviously. 30cm is the minimum length for it to be useful. 40cm is better still.
- Use several hair ties to bundle the hair into a number of pony tails—the longer the better. What’s important is that the hair needs to be kept together using that hair tie. If any hair falls on the ground, it’s useless and should be binned.
- Cut the tails off below the hair tie. Keep the hair tie on, to hold it together.
- Place the hair into a bag and post it to the following address:
Louis Barnett & Sons
312 Lennox Street
Richmond 3121 VICInclude a note stating that the hair is a donation, and the wig will be sent to the Cancer Council of Victoria. You also might want to include a card with your contact details should you like to hear back from the recipient of the wig. If you’re lucky they might even send you a photo of them with their new ‘do!
- That’s it! Go enjoy your new, lighter head and that fuzzy feeling that you’ve brightened up the day of someone who probably needs it!
Was this post useful? Do you have any feedback or experience with donating hair? Let me know in the comments!
Related links:
Tags: cancer, donate, hair, melbourne, wigMy Big Kiwi Day Out, Part 4: Return From Mordor
In June last year I traveled to Wellington to speak at the Webstock Mini conference and to volunteer behind-the-scenes at the FullCodePress international website-in-a-day event. Between the conference and the geek-a-thon I had a day to myself. Rather than visit museums and city sites, I wanted to get out to see some of the countryside.
This is my story of how I got lost in the jungle, and survived. Just.
This tale was first published in Web Style Magazine, a great new read for web professionals of all walks of life. Read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.
To Loop Or Not To Loop
After everything I’d been through with my first attempt at following a hiking trail—the rain, the mud, the disorientation, the bruises and grazes and cuts and falls and general despair—you may well ask why on earth I would want to open myself up for ridicule by Mother Nature one more time.
The reason I just had to explore the track in front of me was because it offered the one thing I would crave if I didn’t climb this one last (metaphoric) hill: closure. If I’d returned to Australia without having conquered this walking trail, then I’d forever feel like Nikau Forest had gotten the better of me.
I left the comfort of the sunshine, grit my teeth and plunged into the darkness.
All Your Walking Trails Are Belong To Us
As it turns out, the Nikau Forest Loop Track is, well, a bit of a joke.
Less of a hiking trail, it was more like a carefully architected artificial stroll through the countryside. The path itself was a smooth, safe concrete walkway with occasional strategically placed pebbles and handrails. This was walking at its most comfortable. It struck me as making a suitable rest stop for old people on a bus tour.
Less than three minutes later I emerged into sunlight. I was back at the entrance. That was it—I had walked the entire length of the walk in under three minutes. I scoffed at the signpost in front of me.
Ha! That’s not a track. I made my own track!
Feeling back on top of the world, I practically skipped back to the train station in Paraparaumu (being extra careful not to take any tumbles on the slippery footpath this time). I snuck onto the carriage just as it was about to depart, found a seat at the back, and warmed myself on the heating rail. Within seconds of the train lurching away from the platform, I’d fallen asleep.
The conductor woke me as we pulled into Wellington station. While my body felt groggy and fatigued, inside I was bursting with excitement—I was extremely proud of myself for cramming so much adventure into one day, and was eager to share the details of my journey with my colleagues. There was a small chance that I could still meet them in time for dinner. The only problem: what would I wear? I was wearing the only jeans and shoes that I’d brought with me, and they were completely caked in mud.
The MacGyver Guide To Speed Hygiene
While I filled the hot tub in my hotel room, I scrubbed myself clean in the shower. Once the tub was full, I eased into the lovely hot water—the side of my leg ached, and the graze was worse than I’d expected. The cuts on my arms and hands stung too, but the healing power of the hot water was immediate and welcome.
After 15 or 20 minutes of hovering between wake and sleep states, my entire body submerged with my nose poking out the top to breathe, I realised that I would really have to motor if I wanted to catch my colleagues for dinner (eating alone is never as much fun—plus any longer in the bath and I’d turn into a prune). I dug deep into my energy reserves to wrench myself from the hot tub, and donned a very fashionable hotel bathrobe.
I still wasn’t sure what I should wear, but I had a brainwave: while my hotel room lacked a washing machine, I had a ready reservoir of (mostly) clean hot water in the bath from which I’d just exited.
I dumped my jeans in the bath tub, and went at them with the hotel soap. And you know what? It worked. And to dry them? Armed with a hair dryer in one hand and an iron in the other, I managed to coerce the water from my previously mud-soaked jeans such that after another 20 minutes or so, they had become wearable. The ends were perhaps still a little damp, but they would pass.
The Perfect Finish To A Perfect Day
I bumped into the Australian FullCodePress team in the hotel lobby; we found a nearby eatery and stuffed ourselves with delicious Asian cuisine. Over dinner, I gave a full account to my friends of the events of the day: my desire to see the real New Zealand jungle, my difficulties with finding the trail, my various injuries sustained through my own stupidity, my following what I thought was a trail and getting completely lost, and finally conquering the elements and emerging victorious from the jungle.
Before visiting New Zealand, I’d heard someone liken the country to a Tonka toy. They’d joked that NZ was “My First Country”—the perfect country for beginner travellers. Unlike Australia, there were no deadly spiders, snakes or other critters of which one could fall foul; everything was shiny and safe.
As it turns out, New Zealand kind of owned me today. Sure, I’d come out of the ordeal alive, but as I inhaled my pork curry and relayed an exaggerated version of my brave dalliance with death, I knew that I’d been let off easy. Exploring on your own in the wilderness without preparation or planning is stupid, no matter which country you’re in. When you’re in a new country, with no telecommunications, no map, and no-one who knows where you are, the consequences can be very dire and very real.
My dilemma is this: if I’d done anything differently, I wouldn’t have this story to tell you. The excitement of my discoveries, the humour in my mistakes, the peril due to my lack of, well, common sense … without these elements, this story is nothing.
So while I don’t recommend you deliberately put your life in danger by embarking on an adventure without adequate planning, there’s a lot to be said for being adventurous and spontaneous in life.
Just remember to pack a second pair of jeans.
Tags: jungle, new+zealand, travel
