The Heart of Thinking

Here's a thought that's been rattling around my head lately - we've got thinking all wrong. Hannah Arendt nailed it in "The Life of the Mind" when she split thinking from knowing. Knowing piles up facts like an academic hoarder. Thinking turns raw experience into real understanding.

This matters when we look at how ideas come to life. We love the image of innovation springing from pristine labs or carefully managed meetings. Reality's far messier. Our best ideas bubble up from what we've lived through, what we've struggled with, what we've seen with our own eyes. 

I’m not sure why but my best thinking happens in three places where it’s not easy to have my phone: in the shower, out walking and in the gym! I wonder if there’s a correlation between those three places. 

I wrote about M60's relentless Twitter campaign to Gary Neville a while back. For 257 days, they kept at it. Beyond showing how doggedness can cut through the noise, it revealed something deeper about how ideas take root. Their approach worked because it came from knowing exactly who they were and what they stood for.

We've got this odd habit of trying to partition our professional thinking from our personal lives. We slap on what I call our ‘work masks’, convinced that being objective means leaving ourselves at the door. But what if that's exactly backwards? What if our sharpest insights come from bringing our whole selves to the table?

I know I talked about masks last week in the ADHD piece and it’s probably what’s got me thinking (!) about this again. 

This unmasking business - letting our real experiences shape our thinking - goes way beyond just ‘being yourself’. Through my own journey with neurodiversity, I've learned that our experiences and struggles aren't baggage to check at reception. They're the raw material of genuine innovation.

I'm not suggesting we bin rigorous analysis or systematic approaches. Rather, I'm proposing that personal experience gives us a unique lens on problems and solutions. The trick lies in learning to use these experiences properly, turning them into tools for change rather than just pub anecdotes.

The Power of Reflection

Donald Schön talked about something he called 'reflection-in-action' - this idea that professionals don't just apply theories from textbooks but develop unique insights by reflecting on what they're doing while they're doing it. It's like a tennis player adjusting their serve mid-match, or a teacher tweaking their approach when they spot that glazed look in students' eyes. 

But here's where it gets interesting. When I think about my own process of forming ideas, it rarely happens when I'm actively trying to form them. Like I mentioned earlier, my best thinking happens in the shower, on walks, or at the gym. And there's actual science behind this. When we're doing something physically engaging but mentally freeing, our brains enter what neuroscientists call a 'diffuse mode' of thinking.

I saw this play out vividly with Niamh's swimming story that I shared recently. Faced with a daunting challenge - competing in a heat way above her usual level - she found clarity not through analysis but through action and reflection. "I've got nothing to lose, have I?" wasn't just a throwaway line; it was a profound insight born from processing her situation while living through it.

This kind of thinking-through-doing challenges how we typically approach idea generation. We often try to force insights through structured brainstorming/group creativity sessions or formal meetings, as I have mentioned before. But real understanding often emerges in those moments when we step back and let our minds process what we've experienced. Think about the last time you had a genuine 'aha' moment. Was it during a scheduled innovation workshop, or was it while doing something completely different? For me, some of my best ideas for teaching emerged while reading a fiction book or during my morning run, not while sitting at my desk planning lessons.

The key seems to be creating space for this kind of reflection. Not the formal, structured reflection we're often told to do, but the kind that happens naturally when we give our minds room to wander.

The Experience-Innovation Loop

You might have heard of Kolb's learning cycle - this idea that we learn through a continuous loop of experiencing, reflecting, thinking, and trying. But I reckon it applies just as much to how we form ideas. Every experience, whether it's success or a proper cock-up, feeds into how we think about the next challenge.

Alvin Toffler famously said,

“The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.” Alvin Toffler 

I've been reflecting on the Unboxing Ideas Framework I developed. On paper, it looks quite structured and formal now, but it wasn't conceived in a strategy meeting. It emerged from years of watching people struggle with idea generation, from seeing the same patterns repeat in workshops, from my own frustrations with existing methods. The framework didn't spring fully formed from my head like Athena from Zeus - it evolved through many iterations, failures, and adjustments, as well as a lot of discussion with people I trust like Stefan, my coach.

This is where Michael Polanyi's concept of ‘tacit knowledge’ comes in handy. He talked about how we know more than we can tell - all that stuff we've learned through experience that we couldn't necessarily write down in a manual. It's like trying to explain how to ride a bike. You can describe the mechanics, but there's something else, something learned through doing, that's harder to articulate.

Think about your own expertise. How much of what you're really good at came from textbooks, and how much came from just doing the thing? When I look at my teaching career, the best strategies I developed didn't come from teacher training (sorry, uni tutors). They came from being in the classroom, making mistakes, seeing what worked, and gradually building up that bank of tacit knowledge that you can only get through experience.

I often tell the Year 8 PlayDoh story where every boy in the class made the same ‘shape’ despite my best efforts to ‘control’ what they created! I learned that I needed to bring the ‘naughtiness’ into the light, address it and then disarm it. And it’s given me my best illustration for how to leverage AI with students: don’t pretend it isn’t happening but actively show them you know what’s happening and that you want to support them rather than ban them from using it. 

But here's the tricky bit - how do we turn these personal insights into something useful for others? How do we take what we've learned through experience and make it transferable?

That PlayDoh lesson taught me something else too - the power of being fully present in a moment, even when (especially when) things aren't going to plan. There's a sweet spot where experience meets instinct, where you're both acting and observing yourself act. Which brings me to something I've been fascinated with for years...

From Experience to Understanding

Flow. I've banged on about it in loads of FRiDEAS pieces before - that optimal state Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi described where we're completely absorbed in what we're doing. It's not just about feeling good; it's about accessing a different kind of thinking.

Csikszentmihalyi nailed it when he said: 

"The best moments in our lives are not the passive, receptive, relaxing times... The best moments usually occur if a person's body or mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile." Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi 

This isn't just about productivity - it's about how we access deeper insights.

Creativity is not the result of chance; it consists of linking ideas that were always there but previously unconnected. This happens most naturally when we're in flow, when our conscious barriers drop and our minds make unexpected connections.

But here's what fascinates me - these flow states often happen when we're not trying to be creative. When we're running, swimming, walking the dog, or even just cooking dinner. It's like our brains need that permission to stop trying so hard before they'll serve up the good stuff.

The real challenge isn't just getting into flow - it's catching those insights when they come.  

This is where systematic reflection becomes crucial. Not the forced, fill-in-the-boxes kind, but the authentic, time-unbound journal slots when you can think about your thinking (and acting) 

Making It Real

When it comes to actually using these insights, we need something more structured than waiting for shower-time inspiration. This is where the real graft begins - turning personal experience into practical wisdom.

I've noticed a pattern in my work with schools and businesses. The leaders who make the biggest impact aren't necessarily the ones with the most degrees or the fanciest theories. They're the ones who've learned to extract genuine meaning from their experiences, then found ways to share these insights effectively with others.

Years ago, a mentor told me something that's stuck: "Experience isn't what happens to you. It's what you do with what happens to you." That's Aldous Huxley actually, but it hit differently coming from someone who'd lived it. He showed me how to take specific incidents - like that PlayDoh lesson - and turn them into tools for understanding bigger patterns.

Take Niamh's swimming story again. On one level, it's about a 13-year-old facing a challenge in the pool. But dig deeper, and it reveals universal truths about resilience, about how we face challenges, about the power of "nothing to lose" thinking. The specific becomes universal when we learn to look at it the right way.

But here's the crucial bit - we need to test our insights. Personal experience is powerful, but it can also be misleading. We've all got our blind spots, our biases, our tendency to see patterns where there might just be coincidence. This is where community becomes vital. Not just any community, mind - we need spaces where ideas can be tested, challenged, and refined without fear of looking daft. Where we can say "I might be wrong about this" and know that admission will lead to better thinking, not judgment. It also helps when IDEAS are ‘held loosely’. Conviction is great but it often comes at a cost - of embracing or even considering alternatives. 

How do we actually turn experiences into useful insights? I have thought about a few approaches that have worked for me (and plenty that haven't).

First up (and perhaps surprisingly as someone who sells journals!), I have ditched the idea that reflection has to be some formal, sit-down-with-a-journal affair. The journals are often a starting point or a finishing point but the thinking and reflecting needs to be more than a formal, timed affair. Some of my best processing happens while I'm doing something else entirely. The key is to spot the insight when it comes and actually do something with it.

I use voice notes a lot now. That immediate "hang on, this might be important" moment needs capturing before it vanishes. I've learned the hard way that brilliant insights have the shelf life of a banana if you don't grab them quickly. Oh and Post-It notes next to my bed for those 3am ideas that I don’t want to forget!

Then there's the power of dialogue. Not meetings - proper conversations. I've got a small group of trusted people who I bounce ideas off. They're not yes-people; they're challenge-people. They ask the awkward questions. They point out the holes in my thinking. They make connections I've missed.

For example, when I was developing the Unboxing Ideas Framework, I kept getting stuck on the 'Brew' stage. Something wasn't clicking. It took a conversation with a friend who works in brewing (ironically) to help me understand why - I was trying to force a linear process on something that needs time to ferment.

The real trick though is turning these personal insights into something others can use. Here's what works:

- Start with the specific story - what actually happened?

- Pull out the principle - what does this teach us?

- Test it against other experiences - does it hold true?

- Find ways others can apply it - how can this be practically used by someone else?

The Real Work

So here's where the rubber hits the road. Those moments of insight in the shower or on a run? They're brilliant, but they're just the start. The real work lies in what we do with them.

I've learned to trust my gut when an experience feels significant, even if I can't immediately explain why. Like when that Year 8 PlayDoh lesson went sideways - there was something important there about control and creativity that took me ages to properly understand. But I knew it mattered.

This isn't just about collecting experiences like Pokemon cards. It's about building a toolkit for understanding and improving how we work. Every insight needs testing, refining, challenging. Sometimes what feels like a universal truth turns out to be just a lucky coincidence. Other times, what seems like a small observation reveals something fundamental about how people think and work.

The Dannemiller change formula I wrote about recently captures this well - change happens when dissatisfaction with the current situation combines with a vision of what's possible and some concrete first steps. The same applies to working with our insights. Being frustrated with current approaches isn't enough. Neither is having a brilliant idea. We need both, plus the practical bits that make it real.

I reckon we're all sitting on gold mines of insight from our own experiences. The trick is learning to mine them properly. Not everything needs theorising - sometimes a useful technique is just a useful technique. But when we learn to spot the patterns, to see the principles behind what works (and what doesn't), we can build something really valuable.

Next time you have one of those shower moments, grab it. Write it down. Talk it through. Test it out. It might just be the start of something bigger.

Key Takeaways

Looking back over this exploration of how we form and develop ideas, here are the bits worth hanging onto:

1. Trust Your Experience

Not the vague ‘your gut is never wrong; stuff, but real lived experience. Those moments that stick with you probably stick for a reason. Your PlayDoh disasters might just contain your best insights. 

2. Capture Quickly, Reflect Slowly

Get those shower thoughts down sharpish - they're slippery blighters. But take your time processing what they mean. Not every bright idea survives proper scrutiny, and that's okay.

3. Find Your Flow Spaces

Know where your brain does its best work. For me, it's gyming, walking, and showering. For you, it might be gardening or cooking or building Lego with the kids. Create more of these moments.

4. Test Everything

Don't fall in love with your first interpretation. Run it past people who'll give you proper feedback, not just nod along. The best ideas get better with challenge.

5. Make It Real

Ideas are great, but change happens when we turn them into something practical. Whether it's a framework, a technique, or just a better way of doing things, make your insights usable.

The next piece will explore how AI is changing creativity - probably while I'm having a shower.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​