The Four Fold Practice

There are some teachings that have impacted me a lot in the last 20 years. That have become foundational for not only what stirs on the surface, but what churns at a molten, magma level. One of these for me, that I find myself returning to lately as I work with core teams, is “The Four Fold Practice” that grew among us in the Art of Hosting community of practitioners.

When I have introduced The Four Fold Practice at workshops, often I’ve referenced it as a curriculum that should be covered over at least two years. Each of its practices, its folds, are worth significant attention, learning, and dwelling with. And, as it is named, it is “practice.” It isn’t something you acquire and then are done (though I suppose this could be more true if thinking at the mastery level of 10,000 hours of practice when it becomes you). It is something you continue to do. And develop. And evolve. And stretch with. Just like cardio-fitness isn’t a one time, or a one week thing either.

Why I’m appreciating this model with core teams is that I’m trying to encourage from the onset the aspect of taking a journey together. Not just a meeting. Not just a series of planning sessions. Not just a single car-ride. It is journey. With unknowns, uncertainties, fears, excitements, questions to linger with, water to draw, food to prepare, and adaptations all along the way.

Here’s the folds in the practice:

Be Present — Showing up is the work. It sounds a bit silly to say such a basic thing. Yet, contemporary society demands much from most of us, doesn’t it. Multi-tasking is a norm (and even a shame if unable to keep up). I know of few people who aren’t required to do twice the work in half the time and with half of the resources. How the globalization pattern of incessantly seeking growth will evolve (or implode) in society is for another day of writing. Suffice it say that there are demands on all of us. And it gives rise, increasingly so, to an ability to practice focus, clarity of purpose, and stillness — both personally and corporally with a group.

Participate — Showing up from a practice of presence (perfection isn’t required), makes a big difference in participation. It’s not passive listening just waiting for the damn meeting to end. It’s not loaded-for-bear confrontation to bully one’s talking points. Presence changes the way that any of us are able to participate in gatherings. Adding in just a bit more ability to listen to what others say, to be curious about each other and ourselves and the many choices of how we approach our task at hand — this matters, right. In my work with The Circle Way, there are three practices that are always encouraged that I find guide participation. Speak with intention. Listen with attention. Tend to the well-being of the group. It’s part of the nuancing of participation, key reminders for all of us.

Host — To participate in society (and communities, and families, and teams) means that you will have your share of stepping in to host. To convene. To create containers so that many people can be in their learning together. Or their imagination. Or their grief. As some of my colleagues have said, “Hosting conversations is both more and less than facilitating. It is an act of leadership and means taking responsibility for creating and holding the ‘container’ in which a group of people can do their best work together.” Hosting does imply some of the basics — a time, a place, chairs, sometimes food. It’s not, however, about passing time. I often think of it as a practice of “activating and animating a composite being.” I think of it as waking up the “we” that is present and yet so illusive, though many of our cultural traditions point us at best to expect, “a collection of me’s.”

Co-Create — This one is the zinger to me. You can see from the above diagram the references to learning, and the evolution from “becoming a learner” to a “community of learners” to a “community that learns.” All of these are important. However, the community that learns, that holds as core identity the practices and habits of paying attention, amplifying curiosity, gathering to listen well together, unleashing creative energy to experiment together, trusting and supporting amidst unavoidable unknowns, uncertainties, and complexities — now that’s something to write home about. Co-creation, that deliberateness — it’s the gold of the journey, scaled. It’s the thing you look back to in 20 years and recognize, that’s when we changed, essentially so, who we were.

Here’s to core teams willing to take the journey. I’m glad to be involved with such good people, committed to holding each other from one point of the journey to the next.

 

 

Soar or Sour

When something sours, like milk, it takes on an acidic taste and curdles into chunks. It’s pretty yucky. Take a chug of that milk and you’ll likely spit it out immediately through a grimacing face. And, you’ll likely be just a bit more vigilant about checking “best-before” dates for a while.

This morning I was writing about one of the dreams I had last night. For the last seven years or so now I’ve been using a five step process that I created of working with my dreams. I was on step five, writing out a few assignments to pay attention to during the day, informed by my dream. I meant to type the word “soar,” but my computer autocorrected to “sour.” I laughed. Slightly different direction.

Sour does have it’s place, however. I think of fermented cabbage, Korean kimchi, that keeps for a very long time. Kimchi is for many, an acquired taste that I got in 1984 and 1985 when I lived as a missionary in Korea. I had my initial yucky face grimace with kimchi, but really grew to love and crave the taste. Still do. Nonetheless, “sour” often has a negative connotation. It’s not quite like the “sweet” of chocolate, is it. Few people dispute the goodness of chocolate. But “sour” — sour often gets a bad rub.

Somewhere in this dream-working process and the laughter of auto-correct, I began thinking about another experience in my Korean language days. I had an instructor back then who challenged myself and my fellow missionaries to set goals on how much language we could learn. Back then it was relatively simple and helpful — another ten vocabulary words in the next ten minutes. It helped. Without question. I also remember however, that I was a bit resistant. Even then I had some default in me that leaned to more process-oriented “goals.” I remember thinking that “I’ll do my best.” It was a process goal that I was convinced might yield more than ten vocabulary words, but also sometimes less. I also remember that I didn’t want to be doubted in these goals; I wanted to be trusted.

The value of goal-setting is about as hard to argue as the value of chocolate. Indisputable. You’re nuts if you don’t think it is valuable. I share this perspective, definitely. However, like most “indisputable” claims, a problem arises when alternatives are completely dismissed as invalid. Sour has it’s place, by choice. Process has it’s place, by choice.

In the last thirty-five years I’ve met and been with plenty of people that adhere religiously to goals. Stretch goals tend to produce whether applied to sit-ups, vocabulary words, or setting a direction for a team. But please, no really, PLEASE, could we create just a little more space for process commitments. This is the likes of values that inspire and principles that give meaning to all of the production and doing that is such a part of most of our lives. Goals have a lot to do with management. Good, keep that up. However, process has a lot to do with leadership — engaging people as a group and system to unfold itself into more capacity and potential (it’s hard not to say, “accomplish more goals” here, but therein lays some of the trick of using language).

Process seems to have an inherent trust in it — hmmm? Less coercion — hmmm? Less belief that “unless I make you do it, you won’t” — hmmm? These sound a bit familiar for any of us with kids — the garbage isn’t going out if I don’t offer a reminder or two. But then again, perhaps this is the developmental marker — at some point we are not kids and teenagers, and need to evolve from the manipulation of each other into the sweetness of matured choices together. Of brains more fully thinking. Of hearts more fully engaging. Of imaginations more fully creating.

The times call for this thinking, engaging, and creating, right? This kind of challenging how we do; not just insisting on goals of more — twice as much in half the time with half the resources. It’s time to look beyond the obvious and the patterned immediateness so apparent in contemporary society. Soar, yes. Put perhaps with a bit of deliberate sour mixed in.

 

 

 

Human to Human

It was almost two years ago that I renamed this blog. It went from “Blog” to “Human to Human.” The content that I’ve always shared is connected to participative leadership. That’s the field that I work in. Facilitation and meeting design, strategic imagining from a participative leadership framework. The short version of that is about being smarter together. Or more centered together. Or more clear together. Or more imaginative together. The “together” part is consistent. It comes from my years learning with and from Margaret Wheatley — “Who we are together is different and more that who we are alone.”

I began publishing pretty much daily, Monday through Thursday (compared to the sporadic weekly I’d been doing). My friend Charles LaFond inspired my writing a lot then. He’s a priest with the Episcopal Church. He’s outstanding at telling a story. And from the story, really nailing the main point. He is as thoughtful a human being as there is. Best guess is that I’ve posted about 350 pieces since then. Some on projects. Some on ideas I’ve developed with colleagues. Some on family, because I learn a ton in that context. Some with poetry to inspire, or just because. Some on just human wondering. “Human” is a significantly bigger category to me that “Leadership.” And it is just where my interest lays. The subtle and nuanced qualities of being human are deeply relevant to me in the arena that is our “jobs.”

I chose the name Human to Human (H2H) because I’ve wanted to emphasize that leadership is very personal. It’s definitely about knowing stuff. It’s definitely about being able to see a bigger picture. There’s sometimes a blurry line between those that manage and those that lead. The part that has always been more compelling to me has been the deeply human stuff. Being able to reflect on what it’s like to be you, or on the process of projecting inner perception to an external world. Being able to explore more fully the unknowns and uncertainties of what it means to do things together and what that has to do with a society evolving.

Just being better humans. It is the most honest summary statement I can name. Or at least to provide some overarching direction to working together. It’s far from “just being nice” together. It has everything to do with deep listening to self, each other, and to what arises between us. The process of writing, 350 ish times, has been a deeply satisfying practice to clarify voice, thought, and the connection of leadership to good old human being. Thanks for coming along. I’m grateful.

Presentation of Learning

My friend Quanita Roberson has an annual commitment. She asks people to share their “presentation of learning.” It’s anywhere from 10-30 minutes of reflecting on what has been important over the last year. No right answers. No wrong. Just what was important. Quanita does some in person — people gathered in her home to share over an evening together. She does some of it virtually — recording a shared screen through Zoom.

This weekend Quanita and I met for a reflecting back on 2016. She was asking me for mine. She’ll be posting that soon on her site. However, in the mean time, I had a peek at the “presentation” I shared with her two years ago. It’s a 25 minute video that includes these themes:

  • Popping to a new resonance together / the composite being that is a group, whether two, twenty, or more.
  • Saying no to good things / relationship to time and the courage it takes to discern and say, no.
  • In anything is the everything / connection of energy and opportunity. I learn this particularly with my friend Roq Gareau.
  • Nothing less that who you really are / radical honesty. Quanita is one who calls this out.
  • Things you can’t not do / lessons learned from my dog Shadow.
  • Hunger for essence and simplicity / be honest, be clear, be real.

I don’t like the camera angle that has me looking down and away at my notes, but it was my own doing. I’ve always been one who learns and integrates best with a visual reference and a few notes, from which I then just try to speak extemporaneously. The content stirred me up again today — realizing some of where I am two years later.

I’m grateful for friends like Quanita who insist on learning.