If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it’s not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever. ~
You may be wondering what dandelion bristles (yes, that’s what they’re called) blowing in the wind have to do with problems. I’ll get to it. First, a brief rundown on Blue Sky, then on to consider paths to solutions.
Blue Sky Problem Solving
For good or evil, I don’t need sources to discuss Blue Sky. I worked for large corporations between 1987 and 2021, and I’ve attended many management-led, committee-involved, throwing-spaghetti-at-the-wall kinds of conversations. I am so glad I have fewer guidelines in place these days, but I digress. Here are a few Blue Sky discussion characteristics:
- Budgeting constraints are disregarded.
- Technology capacity is immaterial.
- Imaginative solutions are encouraged.
- Participation is expected. No spectators allowed.
Sounds like fun, huh? It can be, with the right people in the room. Note the callback to my comment about my current, autonomous state. Discussions cans be held solo, too. On a serious note, this reminds me of a meeting with programmers back in the 90s. The General Liability team was working on a specialty insurance package for artisan contractors, and the novel rating approach presented challenges. My role as an underwriting specialist guaranteed no technical knowledge of anything other than General Liability. The programmers didn’t know what I knew. That is, both sides had depth of knowledge, but couldn’t always communicate effectively. Solving problems requires a common language. BUT, my business analyst knew the issues on both sides well enough to act as an interpreter. We would have been sunk without her. Group dynamics matter.
Onto a Conversation with a Dental Hygienist
Yes, you should be impressed that I was able to talk with a metal pick in my mouth. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. While I am diligent about dental health, I do not enjoy the semi-annual visits, despite Amanda’s skill and personality. Normally, my pain tolerance is at least average, but when it comes to having my gums attacked with a sharp object, I’m lily-livered and looking for other options. During this particular visit, I voiced an idea that I have dreamed of for years. Detachment. That is, wouldn’t it be lovely if we could drop by the dentist’s office, leave our teeth, and return an hour later to retrieve them? Sadly, we’re not there yet, but you have to admit it’s an out-of-the-box idea.
Amanda did have a suggestion for me. Apparently, your dentist can give you a prescription to help you chill. I haven’t asked for that yet, as I am loathe to admit to the front desk ladies that I’m that much of a weenie. In any case, it’s only my throat that reacts. As soon as I sit in that chair, I have an involuntary need to swallow every 5 seconds, which is about 20 times the average, according to Speech Pathology Australia. That is no doubt a fight or flight response. I can’t imagine what my body would do if I were faced with a real threat, but here we are. When my discomfort reaches an unmanageable level, I’ll ask for the meds unless my solo conversations tip me off to something less invasive.
Back to the Dandelions
I am of two minds on dandelions. I don’t want them in my yard, but I can appreciate their bright yellow blooms in any other location. They persevere under impossible situations, even popping up in sidewalk cracks. Gotta give ’em props for that, at least. Continuation of the species was at one time a problem for them, though. Clearly, this ubiquitous plant has found a workaround.
Dandelions often create offshoots (called adventitious roots) that almost guarantee permanent entrenchment. If you miss any of them when you’re trying to dig up one of the plants, you will have wasted your time. They’ll be back. Then there’s the seed dispersal. The florets, which look like one flower, turn into a mass of seeds. These are suspended by the bristles I mentioned before. When they are in a bunch, that bunch is called a pappus. That’s what creates the parachute that carries seeds all over creation. This design, which contains about 100 filaments, creates just enough drag to allow the wind to carry the seeds far afield rather than simply dropping to the ground once the wind lifts them. They might blow the better part of a mile away from their roots. I think dandelions have their problem whipped. Did I know all of this? No. I got it from a Nature website. There’s much more to it than the detail I included – take a look.
Say Again How This Applies to Me?
What do I care about problem-solving at my age? Reaching retirement age does not equate to smooth sailing. There are still challenges to conquer. Here’s a first-world example.
A friend recently suggested that I might enjoy the NYT playing Spelling Bee. You know, the subscription kind where you keep going until you can’t cough up another word. I was reluctant, but took the bait at a deep, end-of-year discount. What was once play has now become a daily challenge, echoing Sisyphus’ daily struggle up the hill. Now I’m no longer cut off after fewer than a dozen words, and that is not a blessing. It’s a gauntlet cast into the dust, daring me to finish well. Sometimes I do, as difficult as it is. The way I do that is to ignore what I think I know. My vocabulary is satisfactory, but not impressive. To overcome this deficit, I drop word combinations that I would NEVER expect to work. Occasionally, they do. But apart from throwing caution to the wind, spelling-wise, I pull away letters to form common prefixes and suffixes and see what’s left. Will those letters fit in the middle somehow? And have I used all the “found” words in every one of their possible iterations, given the letter limitations?
In the same way, we can carve out parts of a problem to determine whether there are useful portions we can apply, like the corners of a puzzle. Then we can work on the elusive nut of a potential solution. Maybe we can find answers when we bust out of our paradigms. None of us knows everything, and we may as well own that. Otherwise, Spelling Bee wins, and I just can’t handle that.
