The ability to recognize opportunities, recombine expertise and prototype solutions is often the most difficult for people closest to a problem – the same people who are frequently at the network’s core. They play a huge role in perpetuating the problem and maintaining the status quo. They are often trapped in a system that no longer works. As a result, they are no longer able to see the possibilities that are always present to transform the system.

The obvious challenge, then, is to make sure that not only is the network core actively engaged, but to ensure that there are also actively engaged clusters and a periphery. These terms are simply defined in The Monitor Institute’s article, Catalyzing Networks for Social Change:

1) Clusters — groups of people who are closely connected
2) Network core — a highly interrelated group
3) Periphery — loosely affiliated people who are not as well connected to the core

In a successful innovation network, the healthy core is made up of overlapping clusters of people with varying perspectives. To create an innovation network is to create a healthy core and a robust periphery, because you can’t have an innovation network if you don’t have both in deep relationship with each other working together to create transformation.

By forming a network with this kind of “planetary” structure, we can overcome obstacles and enable people to recognize possibilities, recombine expertise and prototype new ideas based on the recognition of new opportunities.

The bottom line is that there are network attributes that create a different set of relationships when compared to a hierarchical effort, or even a collaborative approach, and that difference is largely due to the primacy of relationships in an innovation network…”human relationships are critical to both short-term improvement and long-term game-changing innovation in core organizational processes”…(Cross pg. 41).

In everything we do at ALF we attempt to build deep relationships, because it is only through trust that people take the risks that real transformation requires. It is when people trust each other that an innovation network can be formed, as opposed to more limited types of networks in which many people know each other on a superficial level, or in collaborations where consensus on immediate actions often drives the process, or in hierarchical groups where strong decision making usually carries the day.

And yet, while people in trusting relationships are the basis of an innovation network, they are not enough on their own. As Cross explains, a network allows for the free and transparent flow of information and resources which closely approximate a natural ecosystem for human relationships.

There are three network principles taken from biology and physics that help us to see the relationship between a healthy network and a natural ecosystem:

1. Permeable boundaries - a system that wishes to innovate must be engaged in an ongoing exchange with its environment.

2. Minimal critical rules - a system evolves to a higher order, they learn new and better rules, but shed an earlier one for each one they add. Also, essential, not excessive, rules.

3. Flexible resources - insufficient variety in internal resources require engagement in a larger ecosystem in which boundaries remain permeable…(Cross pg. 188).

The primary challenge for the ALF education class is to make the time and create the space necessary for an innovation network that mirrors the natural ecosystem to emerge, a process of establishing interconnectedness that allows for permeability, flexibility and the willingness to share, rather than hoard, resources.

The comfortable approach would be to move directly to action - let’s agree on what we can do and get the damn thing done! Recognizing that this approach often has value, it has to be weighed against the need to address complex problems like education reform that do not easily lend themselves to simple and independent responses to interdependent systems.

Cross notes, “History teaches us that most breakthrough innovations are re-combinations of existing ideas or technologies, the integration of which occurs through networks.” (Cross pg. 43).

A driving force behind the ALF education class is the assumption that, while examples of education innovation are plentiful in Silicon Valley, these innovations are not nearly transformative enough because of the obstacles inherent in the current system. It will not necessarily be the responsibility of ALF’s education network to come up with the next great idea – in most cases that’s already been done.

It will be the responsibility of the network to create an innovation network based on deep relationships that will overcome these obstacles and allow innovation to play a significant role in transforming the system.

Post by Jayne Battey, ALF Class XXIV, who, along with her husband, Mark Battey, is the founder and owner of Miramar Farms. Located just north of Half Moon Bay, California, Miramar is a start-up family farm and executive retreat center committed to environmental and organizational sustainability.

A couple of weeks ago I took a much needed few days away with two of my sisters to Carmel Valley, California. We did the typical girl-weekend stuff: spa, shopping, yoga, and lots and lots of talking. On our second afternoon there, as we were enjoying downtown Carmel, I realized I’d left my iPhone back at the hotel. While this really didn’t bother me very much (except the small nagging concern that I’d lost the darn thing. Again.), my sisters appeared quite concerned. How would I survive the afternoon without a constant connection to the rest of the world?

Not only did I survive, it was one of the most relaxing and enjoyable afternoons I’ve had in a while. I did not miss being interrupted by two calls that afternoon; I did not miss squinting to check my messages while walking down the sidewalk or waiting for the bathroom, or sneaking a peek at my phone when the lunch conversation lagged for twenty seconds. I fully enjoyed my sisters, the laughter we shared with friends we met for lunch, the sounds and smells and sunshine of Carmel, and the quiet random thoughts running through my brain.

So, this got me to thinking about our work at Miramar Farms and the Executive Retreat Center we are building. How do we get our (often stressed and over-scheduled) guests to understand the value of putting the phone away for much of a day and fully diving in to the time with their team? Here are a few things I’ve learned:

It’s not really about the phone.  But you know this already, don’t you? It’s really about your attitude, about your willingness to put the texting-emailing-googling-tweeting aside and really pay attention to where you are and who you are with, and to devote yourself fully to the time you’ve committed to yourself and your team. You might even get a moment or two to let your mind wander, and who knows what crazy, amazing, innovative thinking might come from that.

You and your team need a break now and again. I see it with all of our clients—corporate America is generally exhausted. And why shouldn’t we be? We are constantly connected and processing information; and the expectation has become, in both our personal and work life, instantaneous response.The value of a retreat is largely in the break we give ourselves from the constant adrenaline rush of the pinging and vibrating and marimba of our phones. This isn’t just attitude, it is science, and numerous medical studies testify to the stress and distraction cell phones bring to our lives. How grateful would your team be if you gave them, in fact insisted, that they take a break from the technology and join you for a day or two, or even just an afternoon, to focus solely on one conversation about the future of your organization?

(So far) Nothing takes the place of real-time, in person, human connection. This is another truth most of us already know. We can only go so far with phones, and email, and teleconferencing. These are all great tools, but ultimately we are biological beings with the need to connect on a very personal and human scale. The handshake, the hug, the laughter that erupts from a funny quip or knowing look across the room—these are the things that teams build memories on and grow a culture.         

Place matters. And lastly, I have to say something about environment. If you are going to get your team away for the day, and you are going to have them put their phones aside as well, make sure you spend your time together in a place that feeds the human heart and soul. I can’t overstate this: Avoid the windowless hotel conference room at all costs. There are so many options for spaces that connect on a more human level—from farms to historic buildings to community centers to museums. Take the time to find the right fit for your team, so that the time you spend together away from the rest of the world is well worth it. With some good advance planning, they will never even miss their cell phones.

Word of the Day from Wikipedia: Nomophobia is the fear of being out of mobile phone contact. The term, an abbreviation for “no-mobile-phone phobia“ was coined during a study by the UK Post Office who commissioned YouGov, a UK-based research organization to look at anxieties suffered by mobile phone users.

Post by Patricia J. Gumport, Class XXIV, Vice Provost for Graduate Education and Professor of Education at Stanford University 

“Breathe. Walk, One, Two. Stop. Sit. Watch me!” This is how I learned to walk with Zoe, my very exuberant and highly reactive terrier puppy.  My goal was to walk her with a loose leash, holding it ever so lightly with only two fingers—Zoe keeping pace by my side.

When Zoe would lunge ahead in an excited state, she had to go back and start over. I couldn’t let her continue in that state of mind—we had to re-set. She was expected to walk by my side (not in front), even in the face of tempting distractions like squirrels, birds, a thousand scents,  kids playing ball, and Winston (a stocky 75 lb. white bulldog who propelled himself on a skateboard).

Those first few months Zoe and I didn’t get very far—sometimes no more than 40 feet in an hour. It was difficult to establish and maintain the calm, assertive stance that our trainer advised. I didn’t know a walk could be so filled with tension and frustration!

According to our trainer, mastering the walk required that we both had to start over. First, calm. She said “Give calm to get calm.” Breathe. Release tension. Be totally present. Stand up straight, project to her “I’ve got this.” Show her I trust her. Be loving….This state of energy was required before we could take a step. It took us over a year to master loose-leash walking, relaxing into that peaceful zone they call “traveling together.”  

By coincidence or not, what I learned with Zoe came to the fore when I began my journey last April as an ALF Fellow. In fact it became a metaphor for a fundamental lesson I learned in my first year with ALF.

I was honored to be invited to become an ALF Fellow, to have an opportunity to connect with other leaders of local organizations, people committed to public service. As the orientation neared, with great excitement I cleared my work schedule. Our two-day orientation brought us to a serene retreat setting at the Stillheart Institute up on Skyline. The orientation began with mindfulness exercises. 

Breathe, be here, notice tension and release it, expand awareness without judgment…

Truth be told, at the time I was thinking, a little bit of this was okay—since we all needed to “get here” from the busy-ness of our lives. But then this took up most of Day One. By the end of Day Two, it became clear that we’d sit in a circle, always; we’d be asked to breathe, and at times sit together in silence. I confess this was not what I had expected. It was like a campfire only indoors, and without the fire and marshmallows. No tables, so I had to balance my notebook on my lap when I took notes. Moreover as I came to see, each time we’d gather as a group, not only would we have periods of silence, but these were followed by lengthy check-ins, as well as check-outs to conclude our sessions. And lots of personal stories in between.

I quickly came to see that my classmates are remarkable people, with very impressive biographical arcs, many having overcome adversity, demonstrating incredible resilience, making significant contributions all along the way.

As we talked more, I was surprised by our candor and vulnerability. But though I was fascinated by our stories, I wasn’t looking for more friends—let alone 24 new friends all at once—since I didn’t even have enough time to see my old friends. And I became a little impatient with the emphasis on “mindful witnessing.” I thought, when are we going to get to the “leadership” content? I can sit and reflect quietly on my own time. I had brought a sense of urgency to this meeting, so the time away from the office would be worthwhile. I was ready to soak in all the ALF folks had to teach about leadership. Where is the material on how to be a better leader? What did I sign up for, anyway? Did anyone else feel this way? This sure is a long “on ramp” to getting the program started.

It was an even longer “on ramp” for me personally, since I had brought along another level of reservations. Okay, let’s call it what it was—resistance. I had an issue with breathing. This wasn’t just one breath like setting up to begin a dog walk. They wanted deep breathing, and it went on for several minutes. And then there was the sitting, not just being still, but noticing, becoming aware of our bodies as well as our thoughts. To be honest, I dreaded every minute. I couldn’t breathe beyond shallow breaths due to a respiratory condition, and I had a deep ache in my legs from osteoarthritis. Both conditions had developed from years of running competitively where I had mastered the mental discipline to detach from pain.

So here I was, 40 years later, at the start of the ALF orientation, asked to scan my body and notice sensations. I somehow summoned the courage in this group of strangers to ask the “mindfulness facilitator” if she had any suggestions for how to do this activity when you have pain.  

Among other things, she said that pain doesn’t have to be suffering. Just because you have pain doesn’t mean that you are pain, or that you have to suffer. You can just be aware of it. And it does not have to be all-consuming—it may be easier to appreciate other parts of the body as you scan to “feel where you are.”  You need to be gentle with yourself, practice this.  She was asking a lot—an invitation to return to the body, as a way to get grounded and be present. It was possible to unite body and mind, instead of persisting in my mind-over-body conditioning. Well, even if I didn’t learn about leadership, I thought, this is a gift. Step One.

During orientation, we learned that ALF offers a model of collaborative leadership that will expand networks to work together for the common good. First, we need to learn how to be in deep relationship with each other and with the larger world. We do that by learning how to be present, to expand our capacity for witnessing, to listen without judging others—or ourselves, to embrace not knowing, to accept and move through discomfort, to engage in inquiry together so that we hold complexity within our dialogue.

This is all possible if we are open to a future that’s distinct from the past, and where we trust that collective wisdom will emerge. The result is that, with each ALF convening, we experience firsthand what it is to create community, and consider how it’s possible to do that in all segments of our lives—convening by invitation rather than mandate, by generosity of spirit, by focusing on gifts rather than deficiencies.

The ALF approach to collaborative leadership seemed to align with my values and longstanding commitment to social change, and it resonated with my ideals of servant leadership. All of it except for the “not knowing” part.  And they made such a clear point about that, as if they were holding up a signpost just for me: Problem-solving and analytical skills not valued here! Hmm. What could I possibly bring to our convenings? 

Reflecting on the principle of not-knowing, I had developed a love of complexity and a high tolerance for ambiguity. But I knew my academic training had hard-wired my habits of mind to problem-solve, and to use different kinds of data and analytical skills to advance decision-making.
I practiced this over 25 years as a professor. How could this be limiting? Was all my academic training and scholarly expertise of no value to ALF dialogues? Why is it essential to come together in a space of not-knowing? Step Two.

Over the next several months a lot happened, during and between ALF sessions, and I saw how essential it is to Stop, and Sit. Bonds deepened among classmates. We became clear about and comfortable in our interdependence, and celebrated it. Practicing this mode of being with them opened the door for me to turn the compassion inward—without judgment, expanding my comfort with the parts of myself that I still struggled with, honoring my gifts, which aren’t simply—or ultimately—those cultivated in my academic training. It also inspired me to act from this place with others.

I began experimenting with all that I was learning at ALF, especially leading through inquiry and mindful convening to build community. I do this in my work at Stanford, both with the team that I lead and other relationships in our collaborative projects throughout the university. In all my relationships.

I’ve always had an ethos of service. I knew how to build trust in relationships, and knew that doing so was the first step for anything to be accomplished. But now, in ALF, I’ve gained a deeper understanding of strength as a much more dynamic quality of leading and facilitating. What’s asked of me of a leader? I came to see that it would serve me well to ask this question of myself often—even from moment to moment. It was so simple, but profound. I saw my classmates asking themselves similar questions.

As a class, how did we get here?  We belayed and rappelled and climbed a mountain. We shared more stories about our journeys, fears, purposes, passions. We laughed a lot. We sat in silence. When we lived together for a week on a wilderness retreat, it deepened our bonds further. In that context, the overnight solo was a great opportunity to clarify my deep purpose—and declare it. I saw in a new light how that sense of urgency I felt at orientation, the unwavering passion for my work—how it could be harnessed to the greater good in even more powerful ways. I learned that “if you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together.”  I had heard this quote before. But now I believe it. I think we all do.

So if Step One was to breathe and be open to the possibility of uniting body and mind, and Step Two was getting comfortable with not-knowing and the power of asking questions, I came to see the enormous value of “Stop, Sit” in a community to cultivate shared understandings. Similar to what I learned with Zoe. Re-set, rather than launching full speed ahead to a predetermined destination.  

Read more of Patti’s reflections here 

Full post here

Post by John Hollar, Class XXIV
President & CEO, The Computer History Museum

Understanding the leadership “blind spot” is central to the U-shaped theory described by Otto Scharmer in his must-read book of every ALF class, “Theory U: Leading from the Future as it Emerges.” 

The key step toward U-shaped leadership lies in building a personal capacity for awareness—and, with it, a willingness to understand and consciously overcome limitations that often masquerade as experience, intuition or even just memory.  

Scharmer calls this the “open mind, open heart, open will” approach. He describes it as the antidote to believing we see or know more than we really do, or that we can predict the future based on what we know rather than simply paying attention, and being open to new and unfamiliar possibilities.

Why is this so difficult? I believe it has something to do with “The Invisible Gorilla.” 

In 1999, psychologists Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons surprised the world with their selective attention test known as “The Invisible Gorilla.” Chabris and Simons asked the test’s participants to watch a short video of six people passing two basketballs to each other in a circle. Three passers were dressed in white, three in black. Participants were asked to count the number of passes thrown and caught by the people dressed in white. To do this requires a pretty intense and sustained amount of concentration. 

(The Invisible Gorilla video, 4:46)

Halfway through the video, a large man dressed in a gorilla suit walks through the scene, stops briefly, thumps his chest, and then walks off.  The shocking result was this:  more than half of the test’s participants did not report ever seeing the gorilla. Chabris and Simons summed up their learning this way: “We are missing a lot of what goes on around us, and we have no idea that we are missing so much.” 

They called the phenomenon “inattentional blindness”—reminiscent to me of Scharmer’s use of the phrase “the blind spot” in leadership. The Chabris / Simons study has gone on to be one of the most popular studies in psychology (and Simons, by the way, has gone on to be a popular TED speaker).

It gets even better. 

Less than a month ago, NPR featured a new study by Dr. Trafton Drew, a research fellow at the Visual Attention Lab at Harvard. Drew and a colleague studied a group of highly trained radiologists who were given a lung scan and asked to detect cancer in the scan. As Drew put it, radiologists spend hours studying such images every day in dark rooms that resemble caves. “These tiny little nodules that I can’t even see when people point to them — they’re just in a different world when it comes to finding this very, very hard-to-find thing,” he said.

Except, like Chabris and Simons, Drew also superimposed a gorilla in the scan—a static image of a man in a gorilla suit shaking his fist at the viewer. It was about the size of a matchbook. And 83 percent of the radiologists missed the gorilla.

“Inattentional blindness” can have low consequences, like failing to see a gorilla walking through a basketball drill. It can have high consequences, perhaps like failing to see everything in a lung scan. It can, as Scharmer points out, cause us to have “the blind spot” when it comes to seeing opportunities—and threats—as leaders, whatever the context. 

When people ask me what I’m gaining from ALF, I now like to say that I’m learning to ask myself, “How many gorillas am I missing?” Or, as Paul Bloom of The New York Times put it, “The invisible gorilla just might teach us to be more humble, understanding and forgiving.”

Consider:

AIDS: There is a behavioral based solution that has been available almost since the beginning of the epidemic. If abstinence is too difficult for most people, what about safe sex? The issue is not a lack of condoms but the type of relationships we have with our intimate partners.

• I am on the “down low”, so I can’t plan for it.
• I can’t ask, because it implies there is someone else.
• I need to use drugs and alcohol to enjoy myself and then engage in risky behavior.
• Prostitutes aren’t people. 

The list of bad thinking and lack of communication leading to infection is almost endless, and is based primarily on the types of relationships we are in and not the intractability of the problem. 

World hunger: It’s not about a lack of food, but our willingness to share the resources we have.

Achievement gap: It’s not about the lack of programs or approaches or schools, but the expectations we have about certain “types” of students.

Poverty: we know how to significantly reduce poverty in this country-we’ve done it before.

Once our thinking becomes “unstuck”, we realize that it is possible to change the system. Then we discover the courage to act with urgency and conviction. This is the beginning of transformational change.

And the way that we get unstuck is to be in the kind of deep relationships that allow us to take the risks necessary to create transformation. 

Getting people to take action next to a burning building is no problem: some inhabitants will flee, others will help people escape, someone will call the fire department, and still others will administer first aid.

If the burning building is at a distance and I am an observer, however, the result will be different. I may go over to see if I can help, or I may make a call, but likely I will assume that someone else is taking care of the problem. And the farther the distance separating me from the fire, the less urgency I will have.

Perhaps this is why we structure meetings that establish as much distance between the issues and each other as possible. Why else would we show slide presentations that bore people into submission until they become like the distant observers of the burning building?

For example:
Peter Norvig’s Gettysburg Address PowerPoint (4:54)
Deborah Elizabeth Finn’s “Power corrupts. PowerPoint corrupts absolutely. (Redux)

Bottom line? We’re afraid of failing.

Because to feel deeply around a difficult issue, to be willing to do whatever it takes to solve, is to acknowledge the real possibility of failure, sometimes over and over again.

And the only way to move through that fear is to be in deep relationship with others.

Relationships give us the courage to accept the very real possibility of failure, to move through it, and to explore the next possibility and the next, and in the process, create a future distinct from the past.

Consider: I am passionate about an issue, let’s say education, and I have been working on it for a long time, perhaps my whole life. I go through a process that puts me in deep relationship with a group of people. As a result of these deep relationships, I have the courage to look at the reality of the situation and my role in it.

I am no longer paralyzed by fear of failure. 

I see that all of the possibilities to create real transformation already exist. They always do.

Post by Chike C. Nwoffiah, ALF Class XXI Senior Fellow & 
Executive Director, Oriki Theater 

“Sometimes in our lives / We all have pain / We all have sorrow
But if we are wise / We know that there’s always tomorrow”
              – excerpt from lyrics to the song “Lean on Me” by Bill Withers.

Life is a complex web of interconnectedness and relationships.

As we journey from the cradle to the grave, we weave our web and more than once get entangled in it. There are always people in our path, that will extend a hand and help set us back on course,but unfortunately will also encounter people that will steer us off our path and maybe shake our core. Offenses big or small, offenders living or dead affect our core, weaken our essence and destabilize our balance consciously or otherwise.

A few years ago my ALF class had a session on forgiveness and I remember how difficult and profound the session was. As we wrestled with the enormously difficult dynamics of tragic personal offenses and mundane grievances, it became clear to many of us that as servant leaders, we must learn how to forgive so we can be free to lead with clarity of mind.

But what does “Forgiveness” really mean and how practical is it?

In my many years of working regionally and internationally on the complex and difficult twin subjects of forgiveness and reconciliation, I have learned a few things about the profound nature of forgiveness. So permit me to briefly share with you three main characteristics of forgiveness that I have learned on this journey.

Forgiveness is a GIFT:
It is not about the other person; it is ALL about US and the burden that we bear. To forgive is to let go, to shed the weight of grudge, guilt, fear, anger, animosity,vengefulness, that ties us to the event, incident, situation, person or people that “offended” us.

Forgiveness is UNCONDITIONAL:
It is to completely set down the backpack without preconditions or expectations of apology or admission of wrong from the offender.

Forgiveness is about MOVING ON not MAKING UP:
It requires doing some soul searching, contemplation and preparation of the inner self. It requires the highest degree of honesty to self and courage to overcome the instinctive self in order to heal and realign the spiritual self. We forgive for us.

When we forgive, we do not have to make up and hang out with the person again. When we forgive, we let the offender and the offense go; we move on. The journey to forgiveness can be painful and slow, but the payoff is an infinite joy and wholeness of life that is free from the burden of grudge.

I have seen “forgiveness” at work, felt it’s liberating power and, therefore, submit that it is an essential ingredient for collaborative leadership.

In Sean Safford’s book, “Why the Garden Club Couldn’t Save Youngstown,” he shows how the city of Youngstown, OH was not nearly as effective as the city of Allentown, PA in adjusting to the economic crisis caused by the collapse of the steel industry, even though they were just 300 miles apart and shared many common characteristics.

Why?

Because the people in Allentown were in fundamentally different relationships with each other than the people in Youngstown.

A dialogue emerged in the Lehigh Valley (Allentown)…which over time allowed organizations in the region to redefine themselves and their place within the community and this was responsible for the deep engagement of key individuals within the Lehigh Valley over the past 25 years.

Stafford goes on to illustrate how exactly the opposite scenario occurred in Youngstown, and as a result, key players failed to emerge in the immediate aftermath of the steel plant closures. The vacuum that was created by this inability to engage in constructive dialogue was filled when the Mafia moved into town. Although today there is guarded hope that Youngstown has turned a corner and can begin to mend its broken social and economic infrastructure, much damage has been done.

In Youngstown, a battle doomed the effort to enable revenue sharing for an industrial park at the airport, while in Allentown, a revenue sharing agreement and collaboration led to successful economic development strategies.

The same was true when it came to labor-management relations. Youngstown experienced internal squabbles between labor and management that were significant impediments to creating an effective economic development strategy. Additionally, conflicts between ethnic and racial communities, as well those in the cities and suburbs surrounding Youngstown, created significant impediments to comprehensive planning.

Safford is clear on what he describes as an ”important element of what makes civic society vibrant: particular organizations must bring together actors who are not otherwise well connected in order to serve as a focus of civic engagement…And where these linkages do not exist it is necessary to develop strategies for forging closer ties across the most strategically important disconnects within the community.

At American Leadership Forum, we believe that people need to be in fundamental relationships with each other to address important issues as effectively as they did in Allentown. We have spent the last 25 years bringing established leaders across sectors together in deep dialogues that enable them to build significant relationships. As a result, they are able to take the risks necessary to significantly impact their companies and their communities.

Recently, I attended a meeting with a group of Silicon Valley decision-makers who were spending a morning together to discuss an important collaboration.

At the beginning of the meeting, the room was filled with a sense of great possibility to create transformative change. The potential felt like a helium balloon filled to the point of bursting! The next several hours, however, were a series of pin-pricks that slowly deflated the balloon.

Pin-prick #1:
We entered our meeting room via a reception desk better equipped for security monitoring than welcoming: security checkpoint, scanner, frisk, guard dogs sniffing for body explosives, etc. (Just kidding about the security checkpoint, scanner, frisk & guard dogs, but there was definitely a reception desk set up for security.)

Pin-prick #2:
We met in a room with no windows.

Pin-prick #3:
The chairs were arranged in a horseshoe shape with a large screen at the open end (the polar opposite of the configuration that Class XXIV Fellow John Hollar described in a previous post).

Pin-prick #4:
We began with short, self-introductions, in addition to our aspirations for the meeting. While this sounds promising, our introductions failed to include any information about who we were, or why we come to this work, or why we urgently cared about the issue. If we are to be inspired, our aspirations have to be much greater than what we can accomplish in one meeting or a series of meetings.

Pin-prick #5:
After introductions, we settled in for a l-o-n-g PowerPoint presentation with multiple graphs and statistics telling us exactly how badly we were failing in reaching our goals.

It takes energy to create even the smallest change, and it takes a good deal of energy to create big changes.

By the time the meeting was halfway through, there was very little energy left, and by the end of the meeting, there was so little energy that our facilitator had trouble getting people to consider next steps.

There was a suggestion that we gather again, and someone boldly suggested that we start the next gathering by sharing how our work  ignites passion and hope for the future.

Now we’re on the right track! Here is something we can build on…

Next week, I’ll talk about urgency and possibilities and how to assure that they show up abundantly in our work!