Learning – Page 3

Inviting the elephant

I am part of the design team leading the 2010 Alberta Professional Planners Institute conference October 17-20, 2010 in Lake Louise. We have chosen questions to guide a big conversation, rather than in speakers. We have done this with the express purpose of surfacing the elephants in community planning. It is easy to hide when we sit and listen to experts. A new possibility we are designing for: explore the untapped expertise and wisdom we already have amongst us. The metaphor we are using to guide our design: the elephant.

Either the metaphor of the elephant is resonating with people, or it is an elephant itself. We get comments about the questions that will be guiding our inquiry about planning and where it fits in the scheme of things. The questions are too big. What do you mean by the questions? Of course I am planning to survive, aren’t you? The questions are too big! The questions lead to so many other questions? Boy, do those questions ever stop to make me think…

In a way, one of the elephants in the room are questions themselves. How often do we think we have it right, without even asking questions. John Godfrey Saxe’s poem is in our consciousness as we design, and we are curious about how this relates to community/town/city/country/northern/rural planning:

I.
It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

II.
The First approached the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
“God bless me!-but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!”

III.
The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried: “Ho!-what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me’t is mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!”

IV.
The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a snake!”

V.
The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
“What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain,” quoth he;
“‘Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!”

VI.
The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: “E’en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!”

VII.
The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a rope!”

VIII.
And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.
So, oft in theologic wars
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

Soccer isn’t really about soccer (the yellow card story)

I received my first yellow card this summer. For some, that means I broke a rule, for others it means that I was playing the game as it ought to be played. I am noticing that sometimes (but not always) I struggle with with breaking the rules – or even testing the rules.

The conundrum: I love rules and rules infuriate me. In much of my world, I appreciate rules and the structure they offer. Ill-applied rules, or rules that have lost their sense of purpose, frustrate me. In a soccer game, they provide the necessary level playing field for healthy and fair competition. Since I appreciate healthy and fair competition, I appreciate the rules that are in place to ensure the game is fair competition. We have an impartial official to do this for us, on the reasonable assumption that we are not equipped to do this ourselves in the heat of a game.

As I learn more about playing soccer, I notice that I am choosing more consciously when and where to be aggressive and when and where to let things happen. Whether playing a strong or a weak team, if we just let things happen, we will not hold our own. Each of us needs a measure of urgency for the team to hold its own. As is often the case with me, I go full tilt. (Yellow cards do not come from letting things happen.)

Early in the yellow card game I collided with a player from the opposing team. The official took me aside with a warning to take it easy. Later in the game, as one of their stronger players (I will call her Number 5) had a breakaway toward our net. I caught up with her, got a smidge ahead and kicked the ball out of play. In the process, Number 5 fell.

It was fair play: I had a chance to kick the ball out of play and I took it. The official confirmed this with me right away. Number 5, however, was on the ground and sobbing. She had hit her head on the ground. Her coach bellowed at the official, who, in return, gave me a yellow card for unnecessary rough play. Even after he declared it to be fair play.

Since I didn’t get a yellow card right away, I was a bit surprised. The official and I had a quick congenial chat about his call and we played on. But I wasn’t feeling that good about hurting someone. Then I noticed Number 5’s dramatic behaviour. After her “concussion” she was pretty much immediately back on the field. She slide-tackled one of my team mates and barks at the official, “Did you see that? She just took me out!” When the official calls her for being offside, she vehemently protests. At every turn she quips about her concussion, yet she plays hard and well – even with her head.

Technically, Number 5 is a skilled player. But instead of relying solely on her technical skill, she challenged us by challenging the rules – and the keeper of the rules – to see if she could gain advantage. This is a whole different game with a different set of skills to play with and around the rules to find advantage. With Number 5, it showed up in the sobbing and theatrics when she was knocked down (a common occurrence) or defeated. Or even when she made a mistake herself. By doing so, she may well get a call from the official that works in her favour – whether legitimate or not.

And here is where I struggle. There are competing value systems at play here. (In parentheses, I will refer to the Spiral Dynamics integral levels of consciousness. The colours. Please refer to this article for a primer, or just read along.)

The game is a competitive experience (RED). To be healthy and fair, there are rules to provide some boundaries to the competition (BLUE). My opponent choose to play the game in two ways – first technically within the rules, and second by playing with the rules.

My deliberation is whether or not the ‘playing’ with the rules is fair or not. Fair is noticing how the rules are being called and playing accordingly (providing no harm is done to another). If the official never notices when plays are offside, we notice this and play within the rules evident on the field in that situation. Usually, it works out evenly for both teams and there is no advantage. (If the official favours a team, that is another discussion).

Manipulating the circumstances to alter how the official makes a call is another scenario. This is a competitive drive to play a political power game (RED) outside of the rules. It changes how the rules are seen by players and officials. With weak officials, the ‘game’ becomes the game. Brave (RED) officials use their authority (BLUE) to make the needed calls. Players need to be mindful of which game is underway. Everyone has choice in this.

In the end, the drama is a distraction from the real game at hand – on and off the field. It may be appropriate at times, but it mostly keeps us from what we really wish to be doing. That said, the drama is not something I can avoid.

I wonder if I need to let myself get super competitive (RED) to battle in the manipulative realm. I am quite competitive, but from a place to improve my performance relative to me, not to others. I do not need to win. I need to do well. My measuring stick is internal; I do not need to win over someone. My purpose (BLUE) in this situation is to learn more and more about the game of soccer and how to play it. In my life and work, I aim to learn more and more about life and communities and how we work. This purpose (BLUE) tempers quite dramatically my competitive spirit (RED).

At the end of the day, I seek to understand. I need not react. I stand my ground. I am honest. I will not fake a fall. I will make the ‘game’ explicit when it needs to be. Number 5 was looking for ways to use the rules to her favour – a win at all costs. I don’t play from this mindset, on or off the field. I’ll pour my energy into intention – with an organization, a community, or a couple of teams learning and developing and practicing their soccer skills.

From time to time I deliberate about whether I should make a scene when I fall on the field. Whether fouled or not, I could choose to stay down on the ground (and maybe sob). I could exaggerate a shove or fall. Maybe get a free kick or penalty shot. It’s just not in me to do that. I am too transparent. But I recognize that I need not ignore the ‘game’. On and off the field there is more than one game in play and I need to recognize which one is underway. In the end it isn’t about whether I am breaking the rules – it is about which set of rules is being broken.

They can keep charging. I’ll stand my ground.

Stirring Titles

I am cleaning my office and noticing the magazines sitting here before I put them away. The titles, from Plan Canada and AACIP Planning Journals in the last several months, cause a stir in me…

Planners’ perspectives on art and culture
Rethinking infrastructure: going green
Planning for the homeless
Aging in place
Planning for changing demographics
Okotoks: staying within its limits
Welcoming communities: planning for diverse populations
Making it work: making it last; making it home
Food security: a growing concern
Planning without a net: the international experience
Looking to our past to plan our future

The stir?

Planners’ work covers a range of questions and matters that are deliberated widely in our communities – art, infrastructure, homeless, aging, sustainability, cultural diversity, food – and all of this on the home and international fronts. And then there is the conversation about how to accomplish what we are aiming for.

But who is the “we”? The perspectives offered are about how planners contribute to these questions, and these perspectives are offered to planners. It is tempting to drift toward an assumption that it is the planners who are going to make the difference and that others get in the way. What, however, if the “we” is planners along with the various stakeholders in our communities. What if our technical expertise is not where our power of influence lies?

This spring I had an opportunity to run APPI’s Professional Practitioners Course with Gary Buchanan, an alternative written examination format for prospective professional planners where candidates demonstrate their mastery through conversation and writing. The surprise at this particular gathering was the responses of planners in response to a question about the scope of planning today. The candidates did not reveal technical aspects, but rather interpersonal. To be able to do our jobs well these days, we need to be good communicators, negotiators, conflict resolvers, facilitators, coaches, and synthesizers. All this with a bold courage to take leadership roles in unconventional ways.

Reflecting then on the titles above, I recognize the value of planners. We offer technical skills to make contributions to our communities’ dreams. Our value is no longer just conventional technical skills. Our value is in cultivating the conditions for all the players and stakeholders involved in these complex issues to clearly articulate where they are going, why and how they will get there.

From time to time we’ll employ our technical know-how, but these are not front-seat skills by default any longer. Not if we want to make a difference.

Being Host(ed)

We explored how conversational leadership takes place, and how through conversational leadership, the doors open to co-create wise action and change in our organizations and communities.

Last week I relished the opportunity to show up and be hosted, rather than be host at the latest Art of Hosting gathering in the Edmonton area. While I worked hard to get the word out to people I know who are searching continually for ways to be well with others, it was wonderful to arrive without having to organize anything. Rather than attending to the details of the venue, process design considerations etc., I was able to arrive in a different way: most fully and selfishly expecting to learn at every turn. As host, I expect to learn at every turn, but there is a slight but meaningful distinction when being hosted – a bit more freedom to explore and invest in self. It is a marginal distinction with significant implications.

The implication – and gift – for me is remembering how difficult it can be for me to be hosted. Hence, I have been pondering the difference between being host and being hosted.

The smililarities between being host and being hosted are striking: both require welcoming the stretch of learning together, offering self fully and deeply to each other, and engaging together around a passionate call.

The distinction between host and hosted lies in the invitation, intention and the design. Being host means noticing and responding to a burning question, the passionate call to gather. Being hosted means responding to the resonance of that call. Being host means holding space (the physical and metaphysical) for the invitation and the gathering itself. Being host also means designing process to create the conditions to release holding the space to allow those hosted to co-create space. Hosting means intentionally letting go. Being hosted means following resonance and choosing where to place attention.

In the setting of an art of hosting gathering, the hosted have an opportunity to become hosts. The hosts also welcome being hosted. In this relationship, both the host and hosted are actively engaged in co-learning. Around the right question, this learning relationship takes place in connection to meaningful work.

Beyond the setting of an art of hosting offering, living the conundrum of being host and being hosted remains alive. To host well, I must be willing to be hosted. Willing to be hosted, I am open to surprise, willingly receiving what is offered.

Last week I recognized that I have been “holding” the art of hosting in Alberta for quite a long time with a couple of others – Marg and Hugh. It is hard to hold space – even with mates. It isn’t something that can even be held. It can only be.

The art of hosting is about co-creating space, and opening space. It isn’t something to hold long.

For wonderful details of the gathering, please see Tenneson Woolf’s harvest of the harvest of the harvest (photos, work/co-learning/relationship social movement piece on YouTube, blogs) here: http://web.me.com/tennesonwoolf/Tenneson_Woolf/Blog/Entries/2010/6/13_Harvest_-_Edmonton_Art_of_Hosting.html

Birthday Bike

As we have just wrapped up an Art of Hosting and Harvesting gathering in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada yesterday, I sense a distinct gift received by the participants. Not unlike the first bicycle we long for – a whole new way to move through the world.

This is a wondrous gift to receive, but that first bicycle does not come ready to use. In fact, great support is needed to figure out how to ride a bike: love and encouragement from my teachers, a hand on the seat for balance as I figure out this new movement, a hand near the seat when I don’t believe I can do it on my own, and a teacher who know just when to let go to let me try it on my own. And of course, scraped knees and hands as we fall and start all over again. Until we are ready to roll, practice for many years, then teach what we know to another.

Host your self, and others, well.

Important Questions Stop You in Your Tracks

My brother asked me over the weekend what the goal of my business was.It was Sunday afternoon and I didn’t have the jam for a tough conversation so I begged off.But since I didn’t want to answer it, I knew it was a question worth spending some time with.Alas – what is the goal of my business?

POPULUS exists an infrastructure for me to do the work I want to do.As a legal entity for accounting purposes, as an entity to engage in contracts with clients and partners, and as a name and image that reflects what I believe about people and communities.In a strict sense, that is all it is.It doesn’t have a goal of its own separate from me, because I am the sole owner.POPULUS is a means for me to do my work.

So the next question is: what is the goal of my work? I aim to support people who see a whole new possibility about how humans can work together to meet and adapt to the challenges communities face.I create the conditions for people to see new possibilities and take bold, innovative and sustained action to make those possibilities possible. I do this work in collaboration with others, always modeling collaborative conversation.The nature of this work shifts from conversation to conversation, from situation to situation, intentionally responsive to the conditions at hand.While there are common ingredients everywhere I go, there is no hard and fast recipe.(Another big question for another blog – what are the ingredients?)

My perfect clients and collaborators see possibilities and recognize that we need to engage each other in different ways to get there. Sometimes the path is clear, sometimes confusing and muddy, but the quality of what we do on and with the path is key; they know that they wish to create opportunities for learning, and that quality conversation will support them in seeing and taking action toward new possibilities.

My intention is to co-create, with clients and collaborators, the conditions for people to get the best from themselves.There is not a clear, linear path to do this, so this work is messy and confusing at times.The truth is, it is challenging for me to articulate this work, yet my clients, collaborators and I find that we speak the same language in non-traditional ways.There is no list of credentials, or competencies.It is visceral,experiencial and even intuitive.Rather than a checklist of skills, it is a way of being with self and others. It is unconventional work to remind us of what we already know – how to listen to each other.

The quality of everything we do turns on the quality of our conversations.Everywhere I go, I aim to host myself and others well.And learning to ask – and receive – questions that stop us in our tracks.

Corduroy, Bog and Ice

Of all the experiences a person has in 40 years of life, I wonder why a walk on the Cedar Bog Trail in Manitoba’s Bird’s Hill Provincial Park 18 years ago still sits in my mind.The sensation of walking froma hot, humid Manitoba summer day into a dark, cool forest of cedars left its mark deep inside me.

A month ago, after arriving in Winnipeg after a 13 hour drive and an evening of catching up with friends, our conversation shifted to how we were going to spend our time together over the course of our spring break visit.First up: the Cedar Bog Trail.It was calling me back.

The trail starts in aspen poplar forest, shifts to oak trees, then descends to boggy land full of cedar.The change in temperature was startling on a hot early spring day as we moved from the new sun on our bodies into cold and ice in the shade.The shock of cold – so quickly forgotten after a few warm spring days – reminded me of how quickly we acclimatize to new circumstances.I was also reminded of how the world sends us constant reminders of past circumstances, and how the past, the present and future are constantly being juggled.

In the bog, to make it passable, logs have been laid perpendicular to the path – a corduroy road.The quality of the corduroy is aged and suspect at this stage in the path’s life. Frozen, our passage was unhindered; thawed, our passage would have been arduous and messy since the corduroy logs themselves are now few and far between.I was thankful that the path was frozen. Corduroy logs up through the ice on Manitoba's Cedar Bog Trail. March 28, 2010

Just before we left the bog, we came across an area that was a large expanse of ice.In a few days the passage would be completely underwater.We “skated” on the ice, avoiding the ends of a couple of corduroy logs poking out of the ice and bog. Then we made our way out of the bog, back to the oak and aspen forests and back to Winnipeg, andeventuallyback to Edmonton.And the ends of old corduroy logs keep poking at me, prodding me to further make sense of the Cedar Bog Trail.

When thinking of the inadequate logs sticking through the ice I wrestled with two ways to look at this situation:

When the ice melts there will not be enough logs for the trail to be easily passable.I can see this clearly through the ice.People will be bogged down.
It is passable right now!Just skate over it. Deal with the problem later.

My default is the first.When I see a deeper problem that needs to be addressed I aim to solve it.I find it difficult to notice the things that can not be addressed right now – the things under the ice that just simply can not be solved right now.And don’t even need to be solved right now.And can not be solved right now. There is a time to just let things slip by, and I must ask:

Can and should it be solved now?
Is it my problem to solve?
Is it even a problem?
How can I equip myself appropriately?
Does this path need to be well tended?
Do all paths need to be well tended?

Even when I think I have left the old corduroy road behind, it keeps popping back up. In this trail, it pops up in my memory everytime I explore a forest.And in the road at our family place at the lake, pieces of the 90 year old corduroy road keep popping back up through decades of gravel and tar.

Focus, Flow and Fun

I have been pondering the significance of last week’s soccer scrimmage. I found myself on the field in default mode: going full tilt, fast, shoulder to the wheel, focused effort for results, more effort and more focus for even better results, put in the time and the effort and what I want to come to pass usually does.

But there was a voice over my shoulder, my coach Michael, who could see something I couldn’t see about how to play the game better.Behind me, his words to me were: “slow it down”.On another occasion: “just take the ball, hang on to it for a few seconds, then decide what to do with it.”I couldn’t believe the results.

Now I must note that I need to get feedback from Michael about what he saw – I am relying on what my subjective self sees and feels.I don’t know if he saw anything different, but I felt very different: my body was just doing what it needed to do, without really focusing on it.Putting things together that I hadn’t put together before.It was like those times when I look straight at something and I can’t quite see it no matter how hard I look, but when I look just to the side, I can see it better.My body was doing the things we have been learning all winter – ball control, passing, position, shooting – but without me actually focusing on these.From time to time, I felt a sense of flow.Things unfolded as they needed to in response to the circumstances of the moment.

I fell out of this feel of flow frequently, and then I could still hear Michael’s voice, though it was now me reminding myself. Other times, it was Michael pointing out technical things to do, like: “let the ball hit you straight on.If you turn to the side you have no idea where it will go.”Michael suggested I focus on something specific, but of course that is not the only thing I was expected to focus on.I had to file this information, these things to focus on, into the mix.In the end, I found myself falling in and out of precision, and in and out of intuition.A friendly and usefull tug-of-war between focus and flow.

The game, and life, is about the tug-of-war.It isn’t all or nothing, but rather noticing that both are in play and welcoming them.I notice that in my head and my body, I have a strong tendancy to work hard to get the job done, but not necessarily skillfully.The effort and focus I put into things often makes it look like I am better at something than I truly am.My skills improve when I take the risk of a split second to pause (or take Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink) and check out what the circumstances really require of me.This is not logical – but I can trust that I will know the right thing thing to do, and do it skillfully if I let myself.And if I try to do both – ie focus on flow – I won’t get either.Pulling both ends of the same rope gets you tight rope.

My coach has lessons for me on and off the field and I appreciate the time he has voluntarily spent with us, every week, over the last two years.We are learning technical skills – how to handle a ball, the rules of the game.We are learning about how we do not have the same skills or abilities or aptitudes.This is not only welcomed, but we are learning how to use this diversity to build an effective team.We are supported in our individual learning as well as our collective learning as a team.When we are ready, he shows us something new, always making sure the stretch is one that challenges without overwhelming us.
We are recognizing how we are doing something well and how we are not doing something well so we can see and feel how to improve.Most importantly we are having fun.

I see now that this week’s scrimmage, for me, was about focus and flow – and that welcoming both comes with fun, lightly holding the conundrum.

Poking the Bear

I was describing to a friend last week about a tough situation in which I found myself recently.In room full of teachers, I told them that they appeared to have shut down on their own learning.Her response:ohhhhhh, you just poked the bear.

I have been wrestling with this bear now for several days.I hold a deep intention to cause no harm to the people with whom I live, work and volunteer.But this intention is not superficial. It is not just about protecting the people around me from harm; it is as much about noticing when I and the people around me may be causing harms to others.And with this in mind, I find myself often telling clients (and other people in my life) things they might not want to hear.

But in the spirit of doing not harm, my intention is to do this in a compassionate and direct way. As my Art of Hosting colleague Toke Moller put it, a dull knife through a tomato is an aggressive and harmful act.A sharp knife through the tomato is compassionate.This isn’t about cutting people up with nasty things to say.It is about providing honest feedback – whether to an individual or a group – that is in some way what they need to hear.What they need to hear, but not necessarily what they want to hear.

So my own personal wrestling with the bear is about being brave enough to be direct and honest, because once I have poked it, I have to be prepared for the consequences – it might take a swipe at me.It is this consideration that makes me think of timing options to poke the bear:

Right then and there – when it needs to be said
Later – when it is a better time
Never – just leave it be

As the bear pins me to the forest floor, I deliberate about what would have happened if nothing was said: nothing would have changed and teachers would teach rather than learn.If something was said later: nothing would have changed and teachers would teach rather than learn.Right then and there – the quality of the work that followed, and commitment to it, was significantly higher.The down side, I realize, is that people’s feelings were hurt because they were told something they didn’t want to hear.Some people were angry with the feedback.Some closed ranks and got defensive.Some said thank you – we needed to hear that.

The bear swiped around to protect itself. And in the end, I ask myself what it is protecting itself against, and the answer is astounding:learning.

I have slipped out from beneath the bear, for now, and I look it in the eyes.I will continue to poke the bear and give it feedback from time to time – always compassionately – because I trust that over time it will be received, constructively and positively, in ways I will never know as it makes its way through the wild world.

The obstacle is not the objective

In my acting class last night an interesting parallel to my learning to be a coach.We’ve been exploring the notion of a basic objective in scene work for several weeks.My attention was grabbed yesterday when we stopped to have a conversation as a class about the exercises we have been doing.The simple meaning of our conversation was this: knowing specifically the objective of a scene, and the specific obstacles to that objective that need to be worked through is crucial.But the focus is not the obstacle – it is the objective that pulls me through the scene, but it the obstacle that makes me want to do so.This makes for a good scene.

On the spot as we were digesting our learning, I immediately thought of some meaningful coaching conversations I have had over the last year.The meaningful part being that a coach will offer opportunities for the coachee to explore how to move through obstacles to opportunities and the objective.It is not enough to simply identify obstacles.

In the coaching models I have been exploring, I have been paying particular attention to a continuum where at one end the coach “puts in” to the coachee, and at the other end the coach “pulls out” of the coachee.To be done well, both require heightened listening skills.Specific to the latter, the coach listens intently to the coachee, minimizing the filters and analysis as much as humanly possible.What the coach thinks simply gets in the way of what is wanting to come out of the coachee.While there is a time an place for coaching models that “put in”, there is an unbalance in that respect.People seem to be hardwired to have to tell others what to do.Even in our listening that comes through in the questions we ask.

So what would happen if in conversations we served as guides to wisdom that just sits in us?What if we rest in wonder about what is wanting to come out?

Whether as a coach, facilitator, parent, spouse, manager, that there are times to “put in” and times to “pull out” of the people I am with.I am starting to notice more specifically what I need in this respect.Being skillfull in conversation requires being attentive to your actions, your default patterns, what others need and, of course, having conversations with others around what they need and what you need from each other.

In my work as a community planner, conversation is needed everywhere.Quality conversation to ensure interests are understood and priorities arGovernment, communities, developers, not-for-profit organizations, school and health systems, food production systems, energy systems, are poorly integrated in their thinking and behaviour.Unresolved and deep-seated conflict is everywhere.I don’t imagine for a moment that it is possible to get rid of it.I do imagine, however, that if by identifying what it is we wish to accomplish together, and noticing the objectives that are in our way, we then have a choice to make about where we spend our time: focus on solving the obstacles and fixing he problems, or to focus on moving through them to welcome our objective.To do either, conversation that mover far deeper than the superficial is needed.

To make our desires a reality, we have to simply note the obstacles and move past them.Just as on the theatrical stage, they are not our focus.

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Tag: Learning