⋰ Forward, Back, Left, Right...Diagonal

Last night, I raised a glass with a friend. Catching odd inspiration, I ordered a Sazerac. I must say, it felt cool to order. Sure, "I'll have a beer" is fine, but "Hmm, how's your Sazerac?" Sublime. And it tasted darn good, too.

While sipping my cocktail with an improper amount of sophistication, my friend offered a compelling thought, which has stuck with me in the hours since.

Diagonal Thinking

Having worked in senior executive levels in government, nonprofits, and private companies, this friend has seen his fair share of humans at work. A fellow enlisted veteran, he observed how military experience can prepare us to not only think forward, back, left, or right, but also diagonal.

Ya'll know that I'm a sucker for a good framing device. And the concept of diagonal thinking and movement is a shining example of a new frame that I can map onto existing thought processes and actions, potentially with the benefit of exploring new routes and destinations.

In the workplace, this could manifest as a less straightforward, boxed-in approach. It could be taking a step back and trying to see the whole board, looking for ways to accomplish the mission without religious adherence to the well trodden, limited paths.

Diagonal Movements at Home

I let this concept of diagonal movement rattle around in my head as I drove home and went about my evening. I awoke this morning with it still on my mind.

Some call it strength, others a weakness, but I am not shy about connecting thoughts on things like workplace productivity to deeply personal matters. As I sipped coffee today, remembering the taste of the Sazerac, I thought about my dad's chessboard and movements of the bishop.

I bought this for my dad when I was a kid.

Gifts have always been an important part of my life, especially on the giving side. It's a love language passed down to me from my mother.

I knew my dad liked chess, so I scrounged up my money and picked this one out for him. I wish I could remember his reaction, but I don't. I also wish I could say that it kicked off decades of us playing chess together, but it didn't.

But it now serves another honorable purpose. I've been rearranging my life lately, in some ways literally. While I was looking to warm up a room earlier this year, I came across this old chessboard. It didn't belong in a game closet. I put it out, and found myself drawn to it regularly. It even sparked a few impromptu games with friends who came over (I'm not good, but I'd love to lose to you next time you visit, dear reader.)

The board serves as a talisman to my father. To that time when I was young and was determined to save enough to buy it for him. To that bright and compassionate man who helped raise me into who I am today. To a man who was unafraid to think diagonally. To not consider himself stuck within the confines of the implicit and explicit instructions he received at a young age about what paths were available to him. To the man who had the courage to restart here in America, overcoming challenges that dwarf what I've encountered.

Diagonal Productivity

There's something satisfying about the bishop's diagonal approach. It's a secret weapon of sorts, begging to be lined up for travel clear across the board. It can quickly create strategic advantage, especially when coupled with sacrifice.

When is my thinking locked too squarely into the cardinal directions? North, south, east, west. What might happen if instead I explored the northeast, or perhaps the epic northwest?

The conceit of these pages should be obvious to long-time reader: we are at our best when we take a step back and think holistically about what it means to get things done, aware and even empowered by the unflinching fact that our time is limited.

Do we want to spend our time on tasks that only beget more tasks? Do we want to postpone some of the best things life has to offer in order to send more emails—which, invariably, trigger yet more emails? Do we want to postpone joy to further the likelihood of promotion?

I am, in a way, a strange person to be asking these questions. I'm privileged in any number of ways, including the fact that the emails I get to send contribute to a mission and cause and people I care about in the fiber of my being. And yet, even there, I must practice caution. For no matter my connection to the work I do, I shouldn't wait until some unimaginably far-off retirement date to practice the other things in life that bring me fulfillment in other dimensions.

Both inside the work I do and the life I live outside of my jobs, I suspect more than a little could be gained from a dose of diagonal thinking. From positioning myself not as a pawn nor a king, but a bishop with unique ability to shake up any given dynamic.

--

I had a harder day today, having not slept as much as I'd like and facing some harder, emotionally challenging tasks throughout the day. As I mulled over the draft of this post, I decided to practice a bit of diagonal thinking. What if I worked with my team to free up some space to drive and do something fulfilling instead of brute forcing my original schedule and task list into compliance with the reality of my day?

I've been on the hunt for a headboard, and I found one while thrifting. It needs work, likely a fair amount of sanding and then some wood treatments, tasks I'll almost certainly screw up along the way. But I like it, and I like the idea of working on it until it's something I want in my room. And thanks to a bit of diagonal thinking today, it's now in my possession.

Does that headboard matter at all in the grand scheme of things? Laughably, no. But it sparked some creativity today, amidst a day where I struggled to be fully present.

And so I'll sand, and I'll think about raising a glass with my friend, and I'll think about my late father, and I'll wonder when my next game of chess will begin.

Diagonally Yours,
-Rye

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