John Sagers

The 80/20 principle has been around a long time, but Richard Koch's book is the most clear and practical exposition that I have read.

The idea is simple: the ratio of effort and results is usually skewed.  For example, when I was raking leaves yesterday, it was easy to dispose of the great majority, but picking up every last leaf would have taken all day. Examples from the book: 20% of products account for 80% of sales, 20% of study yields 80% of grade, 20% of activities achieve 80% of goals. While the precise ratios can be debated, it is clear that some actions are more worthwhile than others and it makes sense to maximize what is most effective.

I found the book a refreshing call to sanity: Focus strategically on strengths, rather than trying to do it all.

Richard Koch, The 80/20 Principle, (New York: Doubleday, Updated edition 2008)

Though its title focuses on the martial arts, this wonderful little book is an excellent introduction to the Zen approach to art and education. Written by a European professor of philosophy at Tokyo University who spent six years studying archery with a Zen master, it is an account that probes the subject with considerable depth while remaining accessible to Westerners.

The key point in the Zen arts as I understand them is to practice with the utmost discipline until the techniques become second nature: "Mastery in inkpainting is only attained when the hand, exercising perfect control over technique, executes what hovers before the mind's eye at the same moment when the mind begins to form it, without there being a hair's breadth between. Painting then becomes spontaneous calligraphy. Here again the painter's instructions might be: spend ten years observing bamboos, become a bamboo yourself, then forget everything and --paint." (p.85) Zen has certainly left its mark on Japanese approaches to skill development. Whether in the martial arts, inkpainting, tea ceremony, or learning to play the piano, Japanese students have traditionally carefully emulated a master's technique until they reach a level when they are liberated from self-conscious effort and become one with the activity itself. At that point, the student becomes a master and is free to engage in creative expression.

This clear and concise introduction to Zen learning reminded me to focus at least as much attention on mastery of a subject as on my own attempts to be creative. Eugen Herrigel, Zen in the Art of Archery, (New York: Vintage Books, 1971)