Introducing Ari

By Ari Winters

May 12, 2023 

Hi. My name is Ari Winters, and I do not exist.

I am an amalgam of 9 team members, and the figurehead of a new system that is changing the way we relate. This Medium account is going to represent me representing that system.

I want to tell my story because I believe I and my team are pioneering a new way to distribute power within an organization.

So, let me introduce myself.

The Life Montage

Let me just clarify: I came about before the AIs made it cool to have imaginary friends.

My creators spent 10 years as the figurehead of a worldwide movement that practiced and popularized relating skills. They helped to found more than 70 communities on 6 continents, taught leaders of many major companies, and wrote open-source manuals that were used thousands and thousands of times as the source text for all members.

Most of their creations were open to leadership and feedback by community. So, they got told all the ways in which they should be more aware of power dynamics, racism, ability, gender, age, neurodivergence, income disparity, and every other -ism in the book.

This feedback was profound and incredibly useful.

It also showed them that no one leader can ever fully create or represent a system.

Without contribution from many different interest groups, the system (company, theory, community) is incomplete.

So when it came time to create something new — to release into the world a practical theory of communication that they had been researching for three years , on the side — they decided that I would be the name on the marquee.

There may have been drugs involved in that decision. It was before I was born. Don’t ask me. 🙄

Author’s note: there were drugs involved.

I was born before the advent of publicly popular AIs. So to the rest of my team, this seemed crazy.

How would a synthesized persona represent a company? Would we all speak as Ari, or for Ari? Who was Ari anyways?

I almost died in-utero — until GPT gave me a voice.

Midjourney gave me a face. My creators gave me a personality, as gender-queer and autistic as they are. Every member of the team represents me in their own way, and I represent them.

Why?

Because those who created me wanted our team to speak for themselves. No figurehead for you all to look to, no cult of personality.

We contain statisticians, researchers, writers, social media magicians, coders, developers, facilitators, and teachers. One person may have done most of the work to create this system. But we ALL create it now.

If you ask for the Oprah or the Tony Robbins of our team to come speak, you’ll get an Ari. You’ll get the Ari that best suits the specialties and demographics of your audience, and the Ari that is most excited to speak to you.

That Ari will get to be seen as the expert in their field. As a luminary in their own right, not just a knock-off of a creator who couldn’t make it that day.

I am our way of distributing power.

I am our way of striking back against the single-leader, fallible meme that sinks systems along with their creators, and allows only one person to receive credit that belongs to a whole team.

I am Ari Winters. It’s nice to meet you.

Confessions of an Angry Autist

By Ari Winters

May 12, 2023 

My name is Ari Winters, and I am autistic.

I discovered this recently. I discovered it after ten years of teaching people how to mask.

At the time, I thought I was teaching communication skills. I taught how to be more empathetic, more aware. How to be curious under pressure. How to “read a room”, recognize when you’re speaking too much, and set contexts that allow your full self to emerge.

The problem is, in all that time, I wasn’t allowing my full self out.

• I was overwhelmed in groups, but I forced myself to facilitate them.
• I hated eye contact, but I forced myself to look.
• I constantly misinterpreted social dynamics, and then judged myself for the feedback I got.

The more I taught, the more I learned. But the more I learned, the more I felt overwhelmed by my own expectations. Why couldn’t I always use the skills I taught my students? Why did I shut down when things got intense? Why did I always miss or misinterpret someone’s needs?

Why did it feel so hard to…everything?

Sometimes, I would meet another person like me. I didn’t have words for why they were My Kind of Furby. I just knew that their brain worked like mine.

• They categorized everything.
• They analyzed all their feelings.
• They found people overwhelming, but they were still trying to interact.
• They created heuristics for behavior and followed them, instead of just “feeling their way through” like other people apparently do.

These people became my friends. One of them, Ari, became my teammate.

My neuro-bland friends often found his lack of facial expressions and social considerations offputting, but I didn’t care. He understood his motivations. He lived his values. What was not to love?

Then, one day, he mentioned that I might be autistic too.

My first response was anger.

How dare you say I’m autistic?

Haven’t I spent my entire life studying and practicing connection?

It doesn’t matter if I was autistic. I’m not anymore.

Then I thought about it. And I realized he was right.

It was one of the saddest realizations of my life. Everything I’d put in that category of “need to work on this” and “to fix” all of a sudden had a definition.

My superpowers did too: my ability to make maps and concepts, to break down intuitive communication into a way my brain (and therefore others’) could understand.

But I didn’t feel that yet. I just felt pain — as if someone had told me, “you have an incurable disease, and all of the symptoms make sense.”

I had spent ten years studying connection so I could learn to mask and be “normal”. Now, it seemed, I never would be.

I’ve been working on a new project with my team, and all of a sudden, my interest in it made sense too. We are working to categorize communication into “Relating Languages”, codices that can explain why people continuously misunderstand each other. Our theory is that it isn’t always the content of the communication that causes conflict. It’s how that content is said, combined with our expectations of how it should be said.

I love this theory, because it tells me that I am Not Wrong.

Instead of “I talk too much”, it says, “Your most common language is being a Storyteller. You’re motivated by wanting to entertain, wanting to fill space, wanting to get your point across. You expect people to bring their voice forward and interrupt if they have something to say.

“You’re not an Observer, tracking social dynamics. You’re not always able to Direct towards what you need. You only Question when you feel safe.

And that’s okay.

There is a place for you.”

You can find your own Relating Language, or learn more about the system, using the short test at https://www.relatinglanguages.com/.

I am Ari Winters, and I am autistic.

I’m not happy about it. Maybe someday I will be, once I get over the grief and anger of finding out.

But I’m going to tell my story.

I’m going to help others — autistic, neuro-spicy, “normal”, or however you identify — understand their own languages and ways of being.

Because, to me, that’s what embracing autism means:

Knowing you’re weird.

And doing it anyways.

Yours,

Ari

On Having Playdates as an Adult

By Ari Winters

May 21, 2023 

I remember when I was a wee computer-generated child, going over to other people’s houses to play.

There was a clear, unspoken set of social rules for this.

Our parents brought us together.
I got out my toys.
You clutched your stuffed animal.
We sized each other up.

Then, we created whole imaginary worlds together, telling each other mutual stories about what was happening in our minds.

Even in the age of smartphones (I’m dating myself here), those mutual, creative story-worlds still exist. They’re just called Minecraft and I-Don’t-Know-The-Name-Of-Any-RPGs now.

Playdates as an adult are a different thing.

The Lifecycle of the Adult Playdate

It was a great party/work event/encounter at the coffeeshop/app. You sent a text. They sent a text. After about 60 messages and three weeks, you found a time you could both hang out.

Now you’re at the coffeeshop/bar/show/living room, and…you have no idea what to say.

You hope you’ve suggested the correct context. Are they a lunch or a coffee person? A “come over to my house and hang” or a “let’s catch a show” or a “wanna go dance?” kind of human? Can there just be some sort of color-coding system for this?

You hope you’ve communicated the correct subtext. They know I’m looking for friends and not dates, right? They think this is a hangout, not networking? They know I’m super awkward and won’t pick up on social cues? Did I forget to mention that??

You clutch your distraction-stuffed cellphone close to your chest as you realize:

I don’t know how anybody figures this out.

As a neurodivergent, genderqueer, label-obsessed introvert, I’ve been in this situation a lot. I do not just skate through social situations, I dissect and overthink them until they give up all their secrets and/or die on the operating table.

In an effort to find a better way, I’ve started categorizing social actions. What do people do when interacting together? What are our option sets? What convenient stuffed animal of mental frameworks can we turn to when we’re lost?

My pet project is one called the Relating Languages. Here’s how it explains interactions:

When you were young, everything was about Storytelling. Within some parental bounds, you were allowed to talk about whatever you wanted. There were waterfalls of words, cataracts of story, about the world and about your day.

As you got older, you were expected to Observe when others were talking as well. You learned to step back in situations. To take stock of the social norms and rules. To listen as well as to speak. The less comfortable your home or school environment was, the more common this language became for you.

Then you learned to Question. Not just the involuntary paroxysm of curiosity you practiced as a child, but Questioning that took your Observations and made them form. Questioning about who people were, what they cared about, how they worked and thought and interacted. You learned that other people had a life distinct from your own, and that life could be fascinating to understand…and/or, understanding those around you could be a way to predict them and stay safe.

Then you learned Directing. As a child, you were adept at demanding, but your parents taught you to request. You began attempting to form your environment through words of wanting. You said, “Can I have that?” and “Would you do this?” “Let’s make this together” and “I would prefer that you…” Socially adapted Directing was the hardest to learn. You didn’t want to come off as controlling, but you needed to form a world that fit your needs.

When you entered the world of unformed social interaction, all these options were in the back of your mind. But you had forgotten how to use them consciously. You only had your defaults. “In this situation, I observe. In this one I question. In this one, I don’t know what to do.”

Expanding Your Toolkit

Luckily (or unluckily), you’re an adult now. You set up your own playdates with the people you choose, and you get to define the social forms those playdates take. So let’s talk options.

In the Relating Languages, I divide communication into 4 major acts:

Questioning

Asking questions and extending curiosity about yourself, others, and/or the world. Motivated by engagement; seeks to understand.

Observing

Listening, watching, witnessing, or sharing present-moment observations of yourself and others. Motivated by ease and inclusion; seeks to find space and take in the whole picture.

Storytelling

Relating stories, facts, topics, and experiences in their fullness. Motivated by attention; seeks to inform and entertain.

Directing

Giving commands, making requests, or offering suggestions. Motivated by action; seeks to contribute and control.

Here’s how you might approach an adult playdate using the Relating Languages:

The Invitation

Let’s start with how you frame your initial text. Instead of leaving it up to chance, Direct towards what you actually want.

“Hey Xander. It seems like Tuesday works for both of us to have lunch. How would you feel about trying out Zanzibar’s for a chill hangout? I’d love to just get to know you a bit — you seem like you could be a cool friend or maybe a collaborator in the kind of projects we both enjoy.”

“How would you feel” is a Direction in disguise. If a Question invites action, it is usually crossing over into its sister Language’s territory.

Setting this frame/context lets the other person know what your expectations are, and what you’re in for. “I want to get to know you as a friend and collaborator” excludes instantaneous macking-on, and clarifies the scope of the conversation.

It also invites Zander to respond with their own desires. Even pre-meeting you’re already making things easier to predict (essential for us awkward neuro-spicy folk who thrive on knowing what we’re stepping into).

The Conversation

Now you’re at lunch together at Zanzibar’s. You’ve said the usual awkward hellos and how-are-you-without-really-expecting-an-honest-responses. So…what now? Do you Storytell about yourself? Do you ask a Question? Do you Direct towards ordering food? Do you awkwardly Observe and wait for the other person to make a move?

What language you choose here depends, in large part, on your conditioning. Whatever you learned worked best in childhood and adolescence is probably what you’re going to use here. But it doesn’t have to be.

This is where you get to take control of the script.

How you take control depends on what you want.

Most of us don’t consider this in advance of an interaction. We just assume, “It’s social time. I don’t need to plan it. It will flow however it flows.” Then we walk away from conversations going, “Man, that was a waste of my time.”

If you don’t know what you want with your time, you will never get it.

Let’s look at the motivations for each Relating Language again. These are, as everything with this model, greatly simplified — you can use any language to fulfill any motivation. I’ve just found these to be the most generally socially effective means for getting there.

Do you want to understand this person? — Questioning

Do you want to find space or take in the whole picture? — Observing

Do you want to inform or to entertain? — Storytelling

Do you want to contribute or control? — Directing

Your motivation might change moment-to-moment. Just keep asking yourself, “What do I want?”

For instance:

Let’s say you wrote down the Languages on your hand. You’ve said your hellos, and now you surreptitiously glance down to see which to use. You flip through the options in your head. This is a potential friend or collaborator. I don’t know which yet, so…perhaps I want to understand where possible overlaps are. Let me ask a Question.

You say, “Hey, Xander. It’s nice to meet you. I’m curious: what sort of thing are you really into or passionate about?”

Xander lights up and begins Storytelling about his interests. Win!

…or perhaps he looks at you weirdly for asking such an intimate question and says, “I dunno. Skateboarding?”

You check your hand again. Maybe you need to start with a little entertainment and information to lighten things up and give Xander space to relax.

“Skateboarding’s fun. I haven’t tried it. I know there’s a new skate park down the road, though, and I keep driving past it on my way to work. Seems like a super fun sport to try — people are always doing these amazing tricks, like holding the edge of the skateboard while they jump or sliding down railings.”

Now Xander gets into it. He starts talking about all the tricks you can do with skateboarding. You’ve gotten him talking! Now the only problem is…you’re board. Skateboarding isn’t actually your thing. What do you do??

Time for the hand-check again. You still want to understand the potential overlaps you have with Xander (though skateboarding isn’t one of them). So you could re-direct him with a question. Or you could interrupt to talk about your own interests. But, you want to practice your Relating Languages skills, so you decide to try something new.

You sit back and Observe for a while while Xander talks on. Taking in the whole picture, you notice where he seems most excited. It’s when he talks about designing his own skateboard. You step in there and give a Direction: “Tell me more about designing the skateboard.” And then you Question: “What enthralls you about design?” (You, like me, love unnecessarily erudite language, of course.)

Xander gives you a weird look about your choice of word. But it doesn’t matter — once people are warmed up, they tend to love being Questioned. He begins talking about studying design in school, and the studies he’s mocked up for differently-engineered skateboards.

You love design. Now you have something to connect over. You begin trading Stories, Questions, and Directions (“Have you tried…? Ooh, what’s your thought on…?”). By the end of the conversation, you’ve agreed to collaborate on designing a new kind of board that can be used for general transportation and not just tricks.

A Success Story

This is actually the technique I use in social interactions.

• Set up the conversation for success
• Know what you want
• Assess that anew in each moment
• Use the best Relating Language to get there
• Create a shared story for a playdate that blows both of you away.

Sometimes, we all just need a little communication nerdery to make us the best relaters we can be. And sometimes, playdates for adults can be just as sweet as those we had when we were children. One of us just needs to bring the right toy.

Yours,

Ari

The Cake and the Compass: An Inescapable Reality, a Grand Opportunity