I come into contact with a lot of "change management" experts in a variety of business and social circles. They tend to come in all shapes and sizes as the perfectly customizable antidote for an organization that has ceased to change (translation = "got old"). Change involves risk. And we are programmed to avoid risk whenever possible as part of our basic programming to survive. However, that may be the "geezer" part of our brains turning the volume up more than necessary.
Like most people that shot to the top in a short period, I did so at a sacrifice. A lot of things happened that I wish I was more present for. Presence is an interesting thing because one can be physically present, but the mere presence of your body is meaningless unless your mind is there with you as well. I try to tie a steel cable between my mind and body whenever I can. Unfortunately, with the skills of a good magician, the two sides come undone unbeknownst to either brain or body. I'm now starting to use a stronger, heavier alloy in the cable and that seems to work much better. It is not about how the two synchronize in space, but has everything to do with how they synchronize in time.
Toddlers are interesting to observe when they first learn how to walk. While navigating the single step that separates the kitchen and dining room, my toddler would crawl headfirst down the step only to hit her head on the floor. She would quckly learn the danger of this obstacle, and developed a technique for turning around in the opposite direction and letting her legs fall first over the step. This pattern continued for several months until she realized that her older sisters would simply walk upright and just extend their legs and go down the step. So as she began to walk, she had to try it herself. And of course, the result wasn't too pretty. I found it interesting how although she could simply drop down on all fours and use the method that she had already developed for safely navigating the step, she chose to do it a new, but less safer, way. A young person is constantly taking risks as a means to improve him or herself; an older person feels that he or she has taken enough risks already and is sated with his or her point of development.
A writer asked me recently, or more accurately expressed her view that, "simplicity is when things do not change." Is simplicity simply about taking the older perspective of being change-averse? Do younger people desire simplicity? No. Do older people desire simplicity? Yes. Do older people desire to feel younger? Yes. Do younger people desire to feel older. Sometimes -- or more precisely they want to be taken seriously. Being serious means being rigid. But even a rigid person wishes to be less uptight. In short, most people deep down inside want to be both. Anything to be said about the need for simplicity is implicitly about the need for complexity as well. You cannot have one without the other. You need both, but not at the same time. Thus to conclude, the primary issue at hand is not simple versus complex, but time itself. Time to prepare for class.