Conspiring with a mob of kangaroos.
You might not be surprised to learn that kangaroo sightings in Australia are about as common as raccoon sightings in Toronto.
(And if you’ve spent any time in Toronto, you’ll know that’s very common indeed. Which means if you’re joining us for Stay Curious LIVE, you’re likely to spot one patrolling a garbage can.)
I just got back from a 3-week stint in Australia, where I was visiting my mum and family, and spoke at AHRI. And each morning when I went for a walk, I passed by kangaroos.
I kept my distance, of course (I respect their space as much as I’d like them to respect mine), but they didn’t seem to mind me strolling by.
What I love about kangaroos is how curious they are. They watch you the whole time you walk past, and yet somehow they’re also blithely unbothered. On alert and at ease, both at once.
(Kangaroos, it turns out, are excellent holders of a good paradox.)
They’re also creatures that can only move forward. The shape of their legs and tail means they physically can’t move backwards.
I’ve adopted this as a personal philosophy as well.
Here’s something cool …
A group of kangaroos is called a mob.
Which made me think of another collective noun that I like even more … a conspiracy.
A group of lemurs is called a conspiracy.
(The doors to The Conspiracy close tomorrow, so you can see where this is heading.)
Lemurs live in small, tight-knit communities. When a predator turns up, they don’t scatter and fend for themselves … they close ranks and see it off together. It’s a coordinated structure underneath. And a conspiracy in the best sense of the word.
Ravens earn the same collective noun. Many people cast them as omens of doom (thanks, Poe), but many cultures, especially in medieval times, consider them signs of wisdom and transformation. And for good reason … they’re among the cleverest creatures going — puzzle-solvers and tool-users who rarely work alone.
I named The Conspiracy as such because of my enthusiasm for etymology. Conspiracy derives from conspiro, which means “breathe together.”
But learning that animals who work together are also a conspiracy, I may have to change my reasoning.
We like to imagine the work that matters gets done by putting our head down, on our own, powered by grit. It mostly doesn’t.
The meaningful stuff (the goal worth chasing or the change worth making) tends to happen inside a mob or a conspiracy or an online community that has your back when the self-doubt or shoulder trolls show up.
The Conspiracy is a gathering of brilliant people finding forward together, making progress on the work that matters to them and to the world.
The doors close tomorrow.
And if you’re after one last nudge, take it from the kangaroo: you weren’t really built to go backwards anyway.
