We were going to climb a birch, and my best friend started first up the tree trunk. I waited on the ground, to see which branches he chose to step on, in preparation for my own foray towards the top. Suddenly he lost his grip and fell. When he came to a stop, he let out a high pitch scream. As I drew closer, I could see that the tip of a branch was inside his mouth. He had been pierced right through the cheek by a dry branch sticking out from the trunk. In great pain, he managed to maneuver himself away from the tree, with blood running from the wound in his face.Most of the narratives in this book are from organizational life and collected through interviews, but this one is personal. During my childhood in a suburb of Norway' capital Oslo in the 1960s and early 70s, it was normal for children to roam our neighborhoods and explore the world from different heights and perspectives. We sought adventure and excitement, and the adults tended to ignore our potentially harmful encounters with trees and branches. I can still vividly remember my friend's scream and the sight of the tip of the branch inside his mouth. That dramatic incident put both him and me in a state of temporary shock, but a few days later, we were making further daring ventures towards the treetops. Researchers have explored whether people who