A seed is destroyed in the process of being a plant. We have to be willing to #change our old identity to transform into a new being. ..
#quotes#inspiration
Despite
access to more customer information than ever before product messages are
clicking less often with customers. The inescapable truth is we know less about
customers than we should, given the $6 billion a year companies spend trying to
figure out what makes them tick.
Bill Bernbach, one of
advertising’s greatest minds, would understand the problem:
“Human nature hasn’t changed for a million years. It won’t even
change in the next million years. Only the superficial things have changed. It
is fashionable to talk about the changing man. A communicator must be
concerned with the unchanging man – what compulsions drive him, what
instincts dominate his every action, even though his language too often
camouflages what really motivates him.”
Bernbach
was not a psychologist, but had an uncanny intuitive grasp of human behavior.
While most of us may lack the intuitive competence of Bernbach, we can get to
know our customers better by acquiring a deeper understanding of unchanging
man. But we cannot get that understanding through traditional customer
research.
Renown brain
scientist Richard Restak has observed that"We
have reason to doubt that full awareness of our motives, drives, and other
mental activities may be possible." Cognitive scientists tell us that with
the aid of new brain canning technology, they’ve learned that about 95 percent
of the mental activity going into our decision-making takes place behind the
curtains of consciousness. Yet, most consumer research concentrates exclusively
on the contents of consumers’ conscious minds.
The roots of motivations lie beyond the knowing reach of
our conscious minds. When people tell researchers’ why they do what they do,
they can only speak to what appears on the screens of their conscious minds.
Those images are often at odds with their more primal sources of motivations.
Marketing
mostly ignores the silent 95 percent zone in the brain.Why?The
“superficial things” that show up in the conscious mind are more visible,
measurable and quantifiable. Companies feel more comfortable with the
measurable, so they spend vast sums researching customers’ superficial
attributes. Procter and Gamble alone conducts 4,000 to 5,000 customer studies
a year.
It’s harder to quantify “what compulsions
drive customers, what instincts dominate their every action.” To fathom the unchanging
man requires understanding behavior at its roots in human biology.
Ever
wonder how cravings develop? Be they for sex or chocolate, they are not
consciously created. It’s 3:30 PM. Your energy is sagging. A small organ over
your kidneys senses a sugar shortage and sets off a flow of neuropeptide Y
to alert your brain of a need for carbs. The plea reaches your conscious mind
as a craving for chocolate. You ponder whether to stick to your diet or give
in, then say to yourself, “What the hell,” pop a piece of Godiva in your mouth
and resolve to eat salad for dinner. You enjoy the moment by giving into the
craving.
While
you exercised free will (hopefully!) in reacting to the craving, the action you
took had its roots in your biology. So it is with behavior in general.
The email from the boy began: “Did anything inspire you
to create Hallelujah?"
Later that same winter day the reply arrived:
“I wanted to stand with those who clearly see God’s holy broken world
for what it is, and still find the courage or the heart to praise it.
You don’t always get what you want. You’re not always up for the
challenge. But in this case — it was given to me. For which I am deeply
grateful.”
The
question came from the author's son, who was preparing to present the hymn to his fifth-grade class. The boy required a
clarification about its meaning. The answer came from the author of the
song, Leonard Cohen.
Cohen lived in a weather of wisdom, which he created by seeking it rather
than by finding it. He swam in beauty, because in its transience he
aspired to discern a glimpse of eternity.
There was always a trace of
philosophy in his sensuality.
He managed to combine a sense of absurdity
with a sense of significance, a genuine feat.
He was a friend
of melancholy but an enemy of gloom, and a
renegade enamored of tradition.
Leonard
was, above all, in his music and in his poems and in his tone of life,
the lyrical advocate of the finite and the flawed.
Leonard
sang always as a sinner. He refused to describe sin as a failure or a
disqualification. Sin was a condition of life.
“Even though it all went wrong/
I’ll stand before the Lord of song/ With nothing on my tongue but
Hallelujah!”
The
singer’s faults do not expel him from the divine presence. Instead they
confer a mortal integrity upon his exclamation of praise.
He is the
inadequate man, the lowly man, the hurt man who has given hurt,
insisting modestly but stubbornly upon his right to a sacred exaltation.
“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
He once
told an interviewer that those words were the closest he came to a
credo.
The teaching could not be more plain: fix the crack, lose the
light.
Here is a passage on frivolity by a great rabbi
in Prague at the end of the 16th century:
“Man was born for toil, since
his perfection is always being actualized but is never actual,” he
observed in an essay on frivolity. “And insofar as he attains
perfection, something is missing in him. In
such a being, perfection is a shortcoming and a lack.”
Leonard Cohen
was the poet laureate of the lack, the psalmist of the privation, who
made imperfection gorgeous.