#story • Tenneson Woolf

February 14, 2018

Patterning Encounter — Three Simple Rounds

In yesterday’s The Circle Way Online Class with Amanda Fenton, one of the contexts I shared with participants was when they went into small groups. They would have 25 minutes in groups of four or five. One person would host. One person would guardian. There were three “rounds” that we encouraged.

Check-in (How is it that you are arriving to this small group circle now?)
Main Question (Tell a story of when you have experienced The Circle Way components to be helpful — or challenging when missing.)
Check-out (What was one thing you appreciated from your small circle?)

These three steps are a deeply engrained pattern for those of us that practice circle. With of course, a few assumptions tucked beneath them. Yesterday we highlighted “center” — the third space in which we contribute our thinking, feeling, and wondering. It is from willingness to attend to center that emergence becomes more visible and flavored. Yesterday we also highlighted “talking piece” — the act of creating more deliberate and uninterrupted sharing and listening.

I spoke these three rounds as engrained and entrained, just as it is for some of us with our morning habits — brush teeth, shower, cup of coffee. I also spoke what I see as underlaying purpose of each, that contributes to animating awareness and connection through circle.

Check-in invokes presence. It is the shift from social space to the deliberate attending in circle. Or to shift even from one form of circle to another. In our class it was from the group of 14 to the groups of four or five. Even a “mini check-in” matters. It’s like re-stabilizing our psyches to a new configuration of humans gathered. Each configuration benefits from a weave to animate the wholeness of that particular group. Check-in is what helps us get to that.

Main Question is animated by story. Circle is not presentation. Nor is it one person at the front of the room. Nor is it dumping data. Many things can be shared, including core facts and strong opinions. But circle uniquely invites us to a different quality of interaction together. I’ve learned this is often because of inviting people to be in the spirit of sharing story that shows a bit of how they relate to the main question. Sharing experience, even a tiny bit, that relates to the main question. Sharing story is itself a learning strategy. And yes, story creates delight — even the challenging ones.

Check-out invokes witnessing. It creates just a bit of deliberateness to notice what just happened. It’s difference than just racing away. It’s like being deliberate to tidy the dishes before rushing out of the house. Check-out tends to more of the energy and more of the experience in the group. It’s powerful and important to hear an individual express what they experienced, sometimes even in just a word. It’s powerful and important to notice how that is shared, or unique, in the group. We so often live in contexts that skip over the witnessing and even momentary sense-making together. Check-out is what helps us benefit from these qualities together.

Patterns. Aren’t we all learning these. To make conscious or change the unconscious ones. To claim and give light structure to the new ones.

Patterns of encountering. Well, isn’t this at the heart of it all. Daring to lean into the possibility of the whole and what is uniquely created in the middle. Daring to create added life and awakeness in who we are and what we try to do or be together.

June 28, 2017

Leadership Is Offering A Story

I was talking with a friend this week. He was sharing with me how his work is “complicated.” A specific chunk of the conversation was about “so many things to do,” including squirrels to chase. He offered a funny line — “The road to hell is paved with many interesting squirrels to chase.” We both laughed.

My friend and I both like paying attention. Systemic awareness, and perhaps overall curiosity as a human being, will inevitably involve a few squirrels. I encouraged him to take on what he loves about it rather than just lopping it in to a category of derogatory reference.

What I really loved with this friend is an aha of further nuancing leadership amidst complicated environments (maybe a bit complex too).

The Need is Coherence — In the midst of all of those big lists that inevitably change, it’s not just whiz bang project management that is needed. It’s not just software to help coordinate. It’s not just tenacity to get done what is likely impossible. It’s not just “watching over” more diligently. Underneath complication and complexity is the need for coherence. Enough shared reference to feel connection and relatedness.
Coherence Comes From A Narrative — Yes, a story. Just like the ones that people used to read to us. Many kids love stories — my 12 year-old thrills at reading together at night or in the morning. Maybe that thrill never quite goes away. The story might be less interesting than the three bears. However, it is completely compelling. For example, a story is that “we (on team ___, at company ___) are evolving who we are. That requires commitment to our existing processes. However, it also means trying new things.” Enough simplicity to hold complexity.
Narrative Is The Job of Leaders — Sometimes it is a marketing story. Hmm…, OK. The stories I like most are the honest ones that invite us to be fully human together. Creative. Imaginative. Leaning in to rough spots. It’s funny that offering the story still feels like a soft skill to many, right. It’s not detailed spreadsheet analysis. Yet it is an equally important form of “doing.” I’m guessing that 25% of the leadership work is helping to offer the story, to create coherence for groups of people to not just be tenacious, but self-organized into their work.

We are just trying to be better humans (thus the blog name, Human to Human, H2H). In many contexts. Through participative leadership, dialogue, and change. We are just trying to be smarter together. And more thoughtful. And more creative. And more kind. About the things we care about and that we contribute in our families, communities, organizations, and worlds.

That’s the story I tell myself.

February 16, 2017

From the Ordinary, Extraordinary

Stuart McLean is a Canadian story teller and humorist. He is known for his books, his performances, and his CBC Radio program, The Vinyl Cafe. When people talk about his genius, I hear him described as a good listener, as making magic and the extraordinary out of the ordinary. I hear him described as being habitually curious about human life. He loves laughter and he loves silence. I don’t know Stuart McLean, but it’s super easy for me to fall in love with those qualities. A couple of weeks ago, Stuart McLean was heard to say, “What can I say. Things don’t always go as planned.” Stuart McLean died yesterday. The cause was complications due to skin cancer, which he was diagnosed with about a year ago. His life is being celebrated. His death is being mourned.

I admire the courage it takes to give full attention to the ordinary. It’s massively satisfying and delightful to me to see in the ordinary what is extraordinary. It feels wise, right. Perceptive. Insightful. There is clearly skill in being able to see the extraordinary. But the perceptual shift that matters to me personally, and so often in my work, is that there is extraordinary if we are simply willing to be curious about it. It can be grown, I think. But it is already there. In the staff meeting. In the people at the staff meeting. In the people trying to make sense of the plans of the staff meeting. In the vast and varied life experience of the people trying to make sense of the plans of the staff meeting.

We human beings in our collective adventures must of course share important information and data together. It’s part of collaborating. And we human beings must use that data to create plans and strategies and accountabilities. That’s good too. But let’s be clear, learning to collaborate is a life-long process. And further, learning to collaborate is enhanced deeply by our ability to welcome the time for story of the ordinary. I’ve lost track of which of my friends first said it — Margaret Wheatley or Christina Baldwin — “the shortest distance between two people is a story.” And those stories, those simple ordinary stories, are what I’m often trying to evoke in people that I work with so as to create good listening and good connection. I’ve started surprising people with questions that are off topic — “What were you good at as a kid — share a story.” It’s awesome to watch people light up when given permission to be in the ordinary, that turns out to be not so ordinary.

Thanks Stuart McLean. For a life of story. And for good listening. And for curious habits that I continue to try to grow and practice in myself and with the people I care about.