The other day I spoke at a conference for the leading bloggers in Norway.

It was a little unnerving. Bloggers are a pretty fast bunch, so singing the praises of Slow to them felt like barbecuing a steak at a vegan retreat.

From the stage, I could see laptop screens glowing in the dark. An iPhone rang. Members of the audience tweeted my talk, their dispatches scrolling down a large screen behind me. In Norwegian.

Even so, the Slow message seemed to go down well. I was not booed, heckled or pelted with tomatoes. Okay, someone tweeted that I reminded him of Quentin Tarantino. But given the high geek content in the room, I’m going to take that as a compliment.

The surest sign that the Slow philosophy made sense to those Norwegian bloggers is that several of them will soon be blogging on Slow Planet.

But the conference left a mark on me, too. I lost my Twitter virginity there. I decided that the only way to balance all the tweets about me was to start tweeting back.

So what do I make of Twitter? It’s a question put to me a lot by journalists these days. My view is that, like all technology, Twitter is neither good nor bad. What matters is how we use it.

Twitter can be a fun, enriching and provocative way to air views and connect with people. It can even reshape the political landscape, as we’ve seen during the protests in Iran. Sometimes a heat-of-the-moment 140-character missive is just the ticket.

But I think Twitter is best enjoyed as part of a balanced diet. In other words, it should complement – rather than replace – other forms of communication.

The trouble is that it can be very tempting to do everything at the speed of a tweet. And I mean everything.

Two university students are now reducing some of the greatest works of English literature, such as James Joyce’s Ulysses, to 140-character tweets.

This strikes me as an amusing parlour game that might inspire some people to read the original books in their entirety. It might even add to our understanding of the English canon.

But it also plays into the cultural pressure to reduce all communication to high-speed sound bytes.

Already, research shows that millions of people are no longer bothering to update their blogs. Why? Because blogging is now too slow. It’s much easier (and quicker) to type a short update on Facebook or to fire of a tweet.

If the Slow revolution stands for anything, it stands for doing everything at the right speed. And that principle holds true for communication. There are times for a shoot-from-the-hip tweet, but there are also times for more reflective – or slower – forms of communication.

I’ll tweet from time to time when it feels right. But I’ll also continue writing blogs, emails, articles and even books.

If you want to follow my tweets, my username is carlhonore.

One of the major sporting events in Cape Town, South Africa (where I have the joy of living!) is the annual Cape Argus/Pick n Pay cycle tour that snakes for 109km around the Cape Peninsula.

35 000 cyclists descend on Cape Town for this famous spectacle.

One of the most often heard questions after the race is:”What was your time?”

Pages and pages of names and finish times are published a few days after the event, and people make promises to finish in a shorter time next year.

This is a rather linear way of looking at what this great event can bring.

How about asking questions like:

“Who did you meet along the way?”

“Did you also get the baboons at the turn off to Cape Point?”

“DId you pull off for that great massage at Tokai?”

It begs a response that is very different from the linear “so many hours and minutes” reply.

It begs a response about the experience of the experience…

The ancient Greeks, as I understand it, had three concepts/words for time:

* chronos: linear, measured, “clock” time.  1 hour + 1 hour = 2 hours.

* kairos: experiential time

* eon (aeon): An immeasurable or infinite space of time; eternity; a long space of time; an age (from www.dictionary.com)

From Wikipedia:

“While [chronos] refers to chronological or sequential time, [kairos] signifies a time in between, a moment of undetermined period of time in which something special happens. What the special something is depends on who is using the word. While chronos is quantitative, kairos has a qualitative nature.”

I like this example: A golfer hits a hole-in-one. Or you bungy from the highest bridge in Africa.

* Chronos: How long did it take?  Less than a minute.

* Kairos: How did you experience it? How does it feel?  Great!  Fantastic! Unbelievable! Heehaaaa!

* Eon: How long will you remember this for?  For the rest of my life.

An important question arises: Do we (should we) not do things and live life for long term impact rather than instant gratification and short term gain (often at the expense of generations to come)?

If so, then let’s think where the long term impact (e.g. “I will remember it forever”) comes from  - from how long it took, or from what you did and experienced?

The answer is obvious: eon comes from kairos, not chronos.  It comes from what you do and experience and not how long it takes.

Yet we tend to focus so much on speeding things up rather than slowing things down.

The “fast productivity” question is: “How long will the meeting take?”.

The “slow productivity” question is” “Should we even have this meeting?”

So many people complain about attending unproductive meetings, yet they do not question the meeting.

Rather than keep on rushing from one meeting to the next, just stop the meeting madness for a moment and ask the Slow Productivity questions: “Why are we meeting?”, “What is the desired outcome?”, “What do you want me to come and to at your meeting?”.

If there are no clear and meaningful answers to these questions - don’t go!

In Africa we have the concept of “African time”.

From Wikipedia: “Africa time” or African time is a colloquial term used to describe a perceived cultural tendency, in some parts of Africa, toward a more relaxed attitude to time. This is sometimes used in a negative sense, about tardiness in appointments, meetings and events. The term is also sometimes used to describe the more leisurely, relaxed and less rigorously scheduled lifestyle found in these countries, especially as opposed to the more hectic, clock-bound pace of daily life in Western countries.  In October 2007, an Ivorian campaign against African time, [had] the slogan… “‘African time’ is killing Africa - let’s fight it.”

But is it?  Or is the clock from the West killing the real spirit of Africa?

Maybe Slow Productivity can embrace practical ways of exploring African time and Slow Time for paradoxically improving productivity?

“Ex Africa semper aliquid novi” - Out of Africa there is always something new.

Maybe the time for African Time is here if we want to have more sanity and improved quality of life and less rush; enjoy more of kairos and be less enslaved to chronos?

Only time will tell.

For the next two posts, I intend on discussing the idea and importance of reading.  First as it pertains to me personally, and second as to its wider implications.

 A couple of years ago during school I was reading a book in a free period.  When I have the time, it helps break the monotony of classes.  But my friend had been making fun of me for it. 

 “So,” I said , “what’s wrong with that?”

 I was rather defensive since it was a book by Frank Herbert, a favorite author of mine.

 “It’s boring! Besides,” he said sardonically, “you’re not doing anything! You just sit there and look at a bunch of words.  Where’s the fun in that!?”

 And that’s what it comes down to for so many people isn’t it: where’s the fun at? I remember sitting there, momentarily stunned, and wondering if that was the beginning of  my complete social demise. 

 “But no?” I thought, “It’s not like I’m the only one who reads!”

 I was surprised at how close to the truth that errant thought actually was.  I can remember surreptitiously asking friends whether they had read anything good lately – just to test the waters.  I couldn’t believe how many said they hadn’t read a book on their own in years.  Sure, they read To Kill A Mockingbird because we had to. They gritted their teeth through Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but that was the extent of it.  So that made me think: why do I like to read?

 So I’ll put out there the few things that I felt were the most important to me when it came to reading.  First, finding what kinds of books I like to read.  Sounds easy, right? Well for a lot of kids you find that they just don’t know what they like.  They’ve never explored the different genres to get a feel for what interests them.  Once you hit on something you enjoy, you go back for more!  Think of the thousands of young kids that are now fantasy nuts because of the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling.  When you have a new series or novel sitting in front of you by your favorite author, it’s exciting! It’s the only virus that doesn’t make you sick!

 Second, the example set by my parents.  My fondest memories are of my mom and I going to the library on a Saturday, getting a big bag of books, and going home to flop on the bed and read.  It was something she genuinely enjoyed and she wanted to instill that enjoyment in me.  Her with a 1000 page historical fiction on Cleopatra, and me with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are.  It made reading more fun!  If there was a word I didn’t know, I was told I always should ask.  If there was a picture I liked, I would share it with her.  Sometimes she would tell me about what was going on in her book to change things up.  It became an activity that was engaging to all the facets of my curious 5 year old mind. 

 And that’s the most important part.  Reading does not mean sitting in a dark room with a light by yourself.  Reading means engaging yourself in a story that takes you away from your normal life and transports you into the world created by the author.  You can be Hester Prynne in Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter, walking down 17^th century Jamestown with a scarlet “A” on your chest. You can be Harry Potter soaring around the Quidditch field trying to find the golden snitch.  You can be Ender from Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game walking down the halls of Battle School.  You can be anything!

 So — ask your kid what he wants to be when he grows up, if he says fireman then give him a big ole’ book about fireman! What’s the worst that could happen? A lecture from your 5 year old about the need for fire extinguishers!? 

Last week I sat in on a panel discussion around the viewing of the documentary film, Consuming Kids. The movie talks of the total brand saturation that is happening to our kids these days and the relentless methods of the marketing machine.

As a parent it frightened me to see the tactics taken by the marketers. And it’s not just about commercials either. It’s about total immersion in a brand culture where the goal is “cradle to grave brand loyalty”.

If you’re a parent or an educator or someone even remotely connected to kids in any way, you should see this film. And we should all do our part to talk to our kids about it and educate them on the methods being used so that they have some defense against it all. We can teach our kids to be makers and crafters and sewers and painters and artists of all kinds. And we can help them to trust their own creativity. We can give them outlets where they can be away from the marketing machine and in a space where they can listen to their own souls. We can take time to turn off all the screens: tv, computer, phone - and we can take the time to fully connect with them and let them know that what they are, who they are, is enough, without the need for a certain brand or product or label tattooed across their chest.

Metaphors are dangerous. A talented thinker once even stated that “using a metaphor is like carrying water in a bucket with a hole in it; there is a limit to where it will take you”. But anyway, the link between my earlier pleas for a more careful approach to technology (‘Slow IT’) and Slow Food is stronger than just a metaphor.

After all, the Slow Food movement started in Italy as a reaction to a quickly degrading food culture in which more and more of the taste and experience was sacrificed on the holy altar of Agitated Speed. When a McDonalds restaurant was even opened at the Piazza Di Spagna in Rome, it was the last drop that made the cup run over (good metaphor, yes). Carlo Petrini founded the Slow Food movement and even made it to one of the Time Magazine 2004 heroes, just because he promotes the love for original food that is prepared and tasted with the time and attention it deserves.

Seems that the current approach to IT is ready for some tender loving care as well. Especially in this period of downturn, the anxiety for short-term patches may drive us in the arms of hasty solutions that only partially satisfy. Then they will leave the organisation hungrier and unhealthier than it ever was. Proper timing and focus can help us to rediscover what value we actually want to deliver through technology and what foundation we need to achieve that.

David Sprott, the well-respected founder of CBDI forum (“a think tank specializing in practices for SOA and architecture led software delivery and management”), recognises this too. He makes a good analysis of why doing things right – in Slow IT style – is necessary in an industry in which offshoring, agile development and Web 2.0 are promising, but all too often hysterically abused tools. He doubts however that organisations will be ready for Slow IT, as he sees many of them already ‘slowing down’ in terms of cutting budgets, reducing headcount and – in general – doing more with less. The emphasis is now on quick, effective results and advocating more ‘slow,’ he says, nowadays seems a bit like turkeys voting for Christmas.

Not sure I agree there, as David seems to make the common mistake after all of associating ‘slow’ with doing things at a snail’s pace, doing less or doing nothing at all. Remember: it is all about proper timing and focus. Eating Slow Food does not mean waiting for hours until the waiter arrives or the first course is served. Chef Ferran Adrià of Spanish El Bulli – the best and most innovative restaurant in the world – may use nitrogen to shock-freeze some of his dishes in a second and then have them served instantaneously, but some of the ingredients may have been cooking for hours or even days. And Adriá will spend several months every year in his Barcelona laboratory to carefully design and try new dishes. When he opens his restaurant again in spring, the waiting lists have piled up like nothing else in the world.

David suggests that the current IT climate will benefit much more from ‘repeatable, reusable and rapid’ solutions. This sounds a bit like Wok cooking indeed, but if you take a good look at CBDI’s background – which is in systematic, architectural component thinking – you realise that David actually makes a plea for carefully crafting a foundation for continuous change.

To me, that is Slow IT. You deliver the fancy shock-freeze experience but have your pots and pans simmering on the fire for hours as well. Even turkeys would probably vote for that (metaphorically speaking).

The question ‘Did you have a good day at work?’ is another way of asking ‘Was it productive?’ Time spent at work in exchange for money creates the expectation of things done and achieved, and efficiently to boot. A good employee is one who gives more to the company than required, whose productivity is worth his weight in gold. You know the drill: time is money, exceed all expectations, impress the right people with your skills etc. Think about costs per hour, target quotas and service levels to be met. Throw in some sweeteners with bonuses (and overtime if you’re lucky), but also remember that you are expendable and easily replaced in any jobs climate. Companies spend a lot of managerial time and effort stipulating you must be productively busy, or appear to be productive, at all times. They’re careful to calculate the value of lost productivity due to private web surfing, emailing and social networking, or listen to scary reports by consultants who specialize in productive propaganda. But the resultant situation is this: our general idea of  real productivity has been entirely usurped by these raw corporate economics of work.

Consider this situation: when a person becomes suddenly unemployed, downshifted or made redundant, his sense of productivity often stays at the level of expectation as was when regularly employed. And for quite some time. If the unemployed day isn’t full of achievement and tasks fulfilled (applications sent, networks built & maintained, phone calls and queries made), and well-managed for time, then the day hasn’t been productive at all. There’s no satisfactory sense of rest being earned; a latent sense of guilt takes hold, a niggling sense of personal failure. It’s the old ideas and expectations talking. I don’t think depression sets in faster anywhere else than it does with unemployed people.

This is why I’m slightly suspicious of people who live only for work, or feel unconsciously trapped by their careers somehow: they let their jobs determine their personal values and sense of satisfaction. The cubicle-outlook has become their private cubicular outlook.

For which the only prescription is a healthy dose of self-indulged laziness. A complete spell of nothing and no expectation. A certain but significant amount of boredom, faffing about in the shed, walks in the park, beers in the afternoon, swims in the sea. To clear the head and reset the personal sense of productivity. To approach and stretch that moment usually reached on the last days of a holiday, when you actually start getting used to the idea of doing very little — to push through and make that the norm. It’s a key moment you don’t want to wait until retirement to find you can’t change any more — that’s the worst time and place to discover you’re a work-shaped husk of a human. We are not husks, we are so only compared to the full artful life; we can easily unlearn all that work and productivity guff. You might not be earning, but you might also be rescuing your brain.

The key is taking control of time again, and being creative with how you spend your time. Clearing the head is productive. Not thinking sometimes is productive. Walking for an hour is productive. Talking to varied people and changing your perspective is productive. Watching your breathing, or just being gentle with your movements can be very productive. It’s the expectation of immediate benefits and returns and byproducts that mucks us up.

The virtue of Slow is this: take control of your time, take control of your mind, and then create your own sense of expectation and fulfillment. The results might be quietly surprising. Beware of any externally-imposed sense of productivity or duty to things that don’t resonate on a personal level — work has to match up with your personality in some way. If your mind is an instrument, then you’d be careful of what kind of music (and for whom) you’d play it. Cultivate and sculpt and expand your own definition of living, your own life: that’s the only art. Because that’s where true productivity begins.

There are a lot of things that determine our lives and sometimes it seems that there is so little we can do to change it. Politics, world economy and international relations seem to be living in a separate world from us, ordinary people. It’s no wonder that people become more and more detached from what is going on around them. But is there really nothing we can do about it?

For two years now a group of Estonians have expressed great initiative and eagerness to contradict that kind of uncertainty. In May 2008 around 50 000 people came to the fore to clean the forests, parks and roadsides from garbage. In just five hours of work around 10 000 tons of trash was collected which could be said was the best birthday present for our country (Estonia turned 90 last year). The slogan of the project was simple: “Let’s do it!”

This May the initiative continued but under a new slogan and concept. It was called “My Estonia”. People came together as well, but this time not to do something but to put their heads together and think of ways to make the world a better place. There were agencies of that initiative set up in every county, village and town - close enough to everyone living in this country. They discussed the issues that were bothering them and tried to come up with suggestions on what should be done. No bluf, but concrete ideas.

This week one of the leading newspapers in Estonia publised some of those ideas, just to give us a peek on what was discussed. I was more than surprised that among proposals on how to make traffic safer and improve our education system, which are absolutely important topics as well, the slow movement has also crawled into the heads of so many people around me. Here are some examples:

How to make the most of the economic crisis?

• become friends with nature - go hiking, biking etc.
• talk to your children about how the world works
• do some gardening and help your neighbour in it as well
• pick your own berries and mushrooms from the woods
• bring back romance, take a midnight walk under the starry sky
• improve your cooking skills