At the outset of summer I found myself in the expert trap: I started talking and talking and talking, not leaving any room for anyone else.
Friend A was organizing a big lecture about community connection. Friend B, Friend C and I were talking about how ironic it was to have a bigwig speaker in town to tell us about community connection, with us all sitting there in passive listening mode in a theatre and that we would not make any new connections in our community. So Friend B got in touch with Friend A to see if she would like to circle up and see what could be done. (Friend A is of our tribe of people who see this kind of conundrum.)
The conundrum is that we don’t get to know each other when we sit like this:
Deeply embedded in this shape is expertise and the assumption that she at the front of the room has it and we do not. It is an empty vessel approach, where we, as the audience, need to be filled with all the things we do not know. Moreover, even after we have listened for ages, we are given no opportunity to notice what we know and understand differently, to consolidate what we are learning. And we are not given this opportunity as an individual, or a small groups or large groups. We drink from the firehouse then leave with a few drops of nourishment.
It’s not that this mode of information exchange is not needed–it is, under the right circumstances (see last two posts: shapes of conversation and direction or discernment). My point is this: Friend A was caught in a swirling environment of assumption that the best way to talk about connection was to disconnect ourselves from ourselves, and each other, and assume that the expert outsider has more information on the matter than we do. The ‘machinery’ of the city is caught in the assumption that we need to be told what to do, that we are not capable of figuring this thing out. Embedded in this is the further assumption that if we are simply told, we will go and do it and the problem will be fixed.
Friend A pulled off a remarkable feat. She acknowledged the desire, and in fact the need, to hear what the expert had to say (in theatre mode), then created a new shape that allowed people to meet each other, connect with each other, and figure out what this new information meant for them, for our lives and for our city. She did this:
Instead of leaving with a only a few drops from the firehouse (as is what happens with a lecture), people left having met and connected with people new to them. They met around topics of shared interest. They took some time to notice what the lecture meant to them in practical ways that will change their lives and the city around them; they began to integrate what they learned into their being as individuals and a loose collective. Friend A delivered on connection not just by inviting an expert in, but by creating the conditions for the audience–citizens–to truly hear the expert by connecting with themselves and each other.
I almost wrecked everything for Friend A it because when Friends B, C and I met with her I fell into the expert trap. We sat at an outdoor cafe table on a sunny early summer day and missed that we were sitting in a circle. I didn’t let others speak. I said what I see, much like is written above, and then said it again and again.
Passion, impatience and my own insecurity got the better of me.
One of the reasons I most appreciate the circle as a shape for conversation is that it helps me find my place with others in a way that allows others to also have their place in the conversation. It does not diminish me: it focuses me. And most importantly, it allows us–me and the people I am with–to better see what we need to see. It does not diminish my passion, but allows it to show up more appropriately.
And, of course, the irony is not lost on me. What I was most critical of out in the world was what I was doing myself.
What I was most critical of out in the world was what I was doing myself.
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What opportunities do you see in your city to shift from the one-way “expert lecture” to create the conditions for collective discernment? What is your role in this?
In my last post on the shapes of conversation, I made the distinction between forms of meeting that facilitate direction (the board table and the theatre) and those that facilitate listening and discernment of collective action.
These two options–direction and discernment–are quite distinct from each other in terms of their usual shape, their purpose, and the assumptions made by all involved in where the expertise and leadership resides and how information flows. Further, the role of the “host” also differs, from chairing the meeting to creating the space, or a container, in which the discernment can take place.
DIRECTION
DISCERNMENT
SHAPE
board table, theatre
small circles, large circle
PURPOSE
tell, direct, instruct, set people up to go do something
listen, share, integrate, figure things out together
EXPERTISE
in one, select few
in everyone
LEADERSHIP
at the top
shared, distributed
INFORMATION FLOW
from one or few, down to others
from everyone to everyone
HOST ROLE
chair the meeting
co-create the space, or a “container”
Both approaches are right–in the right circumstances. It is a matter of acknowledging the purpose of the gathering and designing for that purpose. (For more on these purposes, see the shapes of conversations.) But these two choices are not mutually exclusive; the circle can be at the board table and direction can be set in a circle.
These two choices are not mutually exclusive. The circle can be at the board table. Direction can be found in a circle.
We don’t have two clear-cut choices. It’s not as though there will be no discernment for collective action at a board table, or that in working in circle there will be no direction established for the group or for individuals. What we do have to recognize is that regardless of the shape we feel the strong pull of expertise, and the assumption that expertise resides only in one or a few of us.
We have a deep-rooted tendency to feel either that “I am the expert”, or to feel that “they are the experts.” There are times when this is true, like my doctor friend with expertise in infectious diseases that I described last week, who has a clear role to inform and direct other physicians about what to do when unfamiliar diseases present themselves. There are many times when we find ourselves with other people and the expertise is shared, but we operate as though expertise–mine or others’–is what rules the day. When we believe this, it dictates the shape the conversation takes, regardless of our physical form. When we find ourselves in the expert trap, looking for direction, or giving direction, we are not stepping into the shared leadership that we are called to offer.
With the intention of collective discernment the circle shape can find its way around a table. It depends entirely on how we put ourselves in the conversation. Here are a three principles and three practices my The Circle Way Colleagues and I use, developed by Christina Baldwin and Ann Linnea.
Three Principles
Leadership rotates among all circle members
Responsibility is shared for the quality of experience
Reliance is on wholeness rather than any person agenda
Three Practices
Speak with intention: note what has relevance to the conversation in the moment
Listen with attention: respect of the learning process for all members of the group
Tend to the well-being of the circle: remain aware of the impact of our contributions
These principles and practices are a simple place to start, yet challenging to implement because they embody a significant cultural shift from our automatic expertise stance, to one that welcomes, invites and accommodates the diverse expertise within and around us.
Openness to vulnerability is leadership–and this kind of leadership is shared and easier to carry if we are brave enough to notice when it is needed.
There is a cultural shift required of us to embody discernment, whether at the board table, or in a circle. We are each required, as citizens, to be self-aware in ways we are not well-practiced, and this self-awareness is a necessary precondition to collective awareness and discernment. At most board tables self-awareness is a scary proposition because it comes with vulnerability, but in this cultural shift vulnerability is not a liability, but a strength. Openness to vulnerability is leadership–and this kind of leadership is shared and easier to carry if we are brave enough to notice when it is needed.
Which principle or practice feels the most scary to you?
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Resource:
The Circle Way Guidelines outline the components of circle, in addition to the principles and practices described above, that help create the conditions for collective discernment in a circle or even at a board table.
**Caveat** This form of conversation is not easily accommodated in a theatre setting for this simple reason: people can’t see each other.
The shape of a meeting reflects the purpose of the meeting: telling or listening. Both are appropriate depending on the intentional purpose of the meeting, and often telling and listening purposes are simultaneous. Here are questions I ask to figure out what shape I will use in preparing for a meeting:
What is the purpose of the gathering?
What needs to be told and who needs to tell it?
Who will be listening and to whom are they listening?
What are we listening for?
What is the shape that serves the purpose?
We are most familiar with two shapes of conversation: the board table and the theatre. These shapes, and our behaviour in these shapes, is about expertise and power; at the front of the room, or at the head of the table, is the one from whom we expect will tell us what to do, the boss or the expert. One person has the answers and the rest expect the answers. One person knows what to do and the others will make it happen.
Shapes of telling and following: the board table and the theatre
These are shapes for telling and following, for providing direction.
We all participate in these shapes: the boss/expert expects others to follow and the subordinates have steep expectations of the boss/expert. The boss will say how things will unfold. Subordinates expect clear directions.
The shapes of telling and following are the right choice in the right circumstances. A doctor friend has extensive expertise is infectious diseases and she has a role in the health care system to serve as a resource for front-line doctors. She has knowledge they need in their work; when something strange happens in their practice she tells them what they need to know as a speaker at a conference, at meetings around board tables or by teleconference, or a one-on-one consult. While there is room for questions from front-line doctors to understand what she is telling them, they trust the information she conveys, take it and use it directly. My doctor friend is in the telling role. The front-liners listen and follow.
Listening is a crucial part of telling and following. The subordinates, or the audience, are there to listen and are expected but the boss/expert to listen. This is listening as an individual: I hear what the boss/expert has to say, I take some notes, and I will adjust my actions as dictated.
The shape of a conversation shifts dramatically if the gathering has a purpose different from telling and listening. The intentional purpose of a conversation may be to explore and digest, and figure out a way forward together. In this case, the shape shifts to circle, where the expertise and contributions of everyone–rather than one or select few–are welcomed. The listening is done by individuals and the group because the purpose of the conversation is about collective discernment: we have something to figure out together.
Shapes for collective listening and discernment: the circle of many sizes
These are shapes for listening–as individuals and as a group–that lead to wise action.
Shapes of listening and discernment are the right choice in the right circumstances. A city planner colleague of mine is working to create a new set of rules to guide infill development in his city and he recognizes that there are people with different perspectives on this that need to be taken into account: other people in city hall, builders and developers, and citizens and community organizations. He recognizes that they all have pieces to the city-puzzle we are making. He needs to listen to them all and he recognizes that as these different perspectives listen to each other, better solutions come forward. He offers, around little tables and within the whole group, ways for people to listen to each other and find ways forward that look after a wide range of interests. This tangibly helps him in his work and it enables everyone else make a city that serves them well.
All of these shapes are right in the right time and place. It all depends on the purpose: telling or listening, direction or conversation.
As you design and prepare for your next gathering, ponder these questions:
What is the purpose of the gathering?
What needs to be told and who needs to tell it?
Who will be listening and to whom are they listening?
Every once and a while a dream knocks me back into reality. I was setting up to run a meeting, the second in a series of three for a client. This meeting was going to work a lot like the first, but I forgot to print off my version of the agenda, the one with all the notes I have about what I need to say. I lost the plot. So I decided to wing it and start the meeting. Continue reading 6 circle lessons (from a dream)
Who put honey
in your heart of fruition?
in your belief in your soul?
in your fantasy?
in the love in your living room?
in the trust in your own perseverance?
in your steadfast transformation?
in your calling?
A shifting course
A hersterical shifting course
lives in us
profoundly donating self
to the sponge
of self and other
here for me and you
to receive
without words
mystical moments
that bless us
with lifted veils
I am
held
thank you
for a home
for my candle
of sacred grace
burning, singing
a delicious legacy
of source energy
that trusts
in me
and how I sit
in
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A poem caught in the moving check out of The Circle Way Practicum I co-taught last week with Katharine Weinmann, Ann Linnea and Christina Baldwin. October 4, 2015, Strawberry Creek Lodge, Alberta.
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Story is sacred food: this is what community leaders found in Durant, Oklahoma, a small American city, as they embarked on a journey to step more fully into who they truly are, and lean into who they want to be.
As they settled in to their work together, some meeting for the first time, others have the conversation for the first time, a hosting team of Canadians, and Oklahoman and a Californian. We first broke bread together, and after the meal we sat back to listen, from the edge of the circle, to each voice, and the story of what brought us together.
Here’s the essence of our starting point for a journey that will take months and years:
Sacred Food
Story is
sacred food
a sacred pride
in community
in personal generosity
I’m a live one
serving, giving
the spirit of home
in my heart
to the promise of Durant
to the promise of being here
where I choose to be
to grow
with our family of well-being
standing out
(of our own way)
we are live ones
embracing the village story
on our shoulders
our sacred food
The work we have to do together is to be ourselves. This is what my local community of practice realized this fall, when we took some time to settle into the purpose of why we make the effort to meet each month. Here’s what our circle had to say to us:
Stretch and foldA spiritual showerof inspiration and energyfalling in rest and replenishmentof the soula pausewhere our only responsibility is to stretch and foldthe agency of communitythe currency of relationshipto hostwholeheartedwholeness
Every once and a while a dream knocks me back into reality. I was setting up to run a meeting, the second in a series of three for a client. This meeting was going to work a lot like the first, but I forgot to print off my version of the agenda, the one with all the notes I have about what I need to say. I lost the plot. So I decided to wing it and start the meeting.