Happy new year! I’m back from our annual two week winter retreat and have been working with the Quinault Indian Nation this week in Washington State alongside my friend Sono Hashisaki. We’re working on a process to bring more integration to the work of the Tribal government by creating interative planning processes that involve community members, government program managers and political leaders. It’s a fascinating piece of work, and a very interesting community.
Over the break, and partly as a result of this work, I’ve been thinking a little bit about some of Adam Kahane’s current work in which he is looking at the need for love and power to work together in order for effective movement to take place. Adam has been using a quote from Martin Luther King: “power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic.” That is a provocative quote and, since Adam first shared it with me last year, I have thinking about what it means.
It ties in deeply with the the questions I have been holding since June about the responsibility of love. I think it’s important not to see love and power as opposites – there may be a temptation to do so with this quote – but rather to see them as compliments. I think it important to see love and power as yin and yang, in the classic taoist sense. In taoism Yin can is a field and Yang is a force, there cannot be one without the other. Unlike night and day which are opposites, force and field are compliments. You cannot have force without a field upon which is acts, and a field without a force is nothing. I have been very much seeing love and power like that.
So since Adam first raised this language issue I have been more and more interested in the role that relationships play in te activation of both love and power. When power and love exist outside of a field of relationships they are inactive.
In love and power are separated, perhaps not aware of one another. Love that does not know its power is Romantic. Power that does not know love is Authority. What does that mean? It means that without acting in the field of relationships, both love and power are static. I am thinking of Romanticism as sentimental and stopped. It may not even be a force that acts on the world but rather a force that acts only on ideas. In this sense it is sentimental idealism.
Authority is power that is unactivated. When someone says they have the authority to do something, they are saying that in the absence of a field of relationships, they possess the potential to act in certain ways. It’s interesting that when authtority is activated what we have instead is action and not authority. It seems that there is authority and there is action. Acting with authority is the deployment of power.
When there is a field of relationships – between people, people and places or people and things – love and power mingle and become aware of one another. Love becomes powerful when it acts in relationship to something. Authority becomes power when it acts in relationship to something. Love is the vehicle of the relationship, power is that which can be done with the relationship. But without the relationship, we have romantic notions confronting authority (or lack of authority). In my thinking this is exactly what I have been getting at with the idea of the responsibility of love – love works when it acts, but the shadow of that action is love that is unaware of its power or the power that is unleashed when love is invoked.
When love and power are activated in a field of relationships, stuff moves.
From last year’s gathering at Rivendell here on Bowen Island, Finn Voldtofte on four good life practices:
- Stay in inquiry, or stay in the ambition to stay in inquiry
- Stretch beyond what you know
- Do what you do for the sake of the whole
- Speak what you see and feel and allow yourself to be corrected by the field
As I reflect on the results of that gathering, including the committment I made to be in inquiry around conscious evolution, I realize that Finn’s words have deeply informed my approach to hosting, to leading from within the field. I was on a conference call with some people in Saskatchewan today about some work I might do there, and I had a strong sense that the decision I had to make was “do I join this field, and become a community member for three days in January or not?” Once I said yes to that, we flowed into some design and inquiry about possibility. From that place, and only from that place, can I offer what I authentically sense and feel, willing to be corrected so that together the field might shift and sway towards its next level.
It was about a year ago that Finn died. We were so lucky to have recorded these pearls from him and to have these ideas live in practice. Thanks to Thomas and Ashley for such sensitive harvesting.
One of the patterns emerging from our work in the Art of Hosting, is the practice of developing and supporting a core team that can collectively hold the bigger work that is being done.
At the moment I am working consciously with the core team pattern at VIATT, with the WK Kellogg Foundation Food and Society Conference, with the Quinault Indian Nation on a tribal strategic plan and with smaller conferences and gatherings, including one next week – a conference exploring collaboration in the child welfare and family services practice field. On that one we have been working with a core organizing team to co-create the process and a workbook for the conference to use. Today on our last conference call before the meeting, the organizers asked about catastrophic plan in case something happened to me and I couldn’t make it on the day. I replied that in that unlikely event, we should reflect on the fact that we have planned this entire gathering collaboratively and that if I got hit by a truck next week, any one of them could hold space on the day, working with the group through the set of exercises and experiences we have planned together. Everyone immediately recognized the power of a core team and the power of co-creation. It reuslts in co-ownership.
Working with core teams is differnt from facilitating a planning committee. When I work with core teams I join them as a host to discover the heart of a project, and to develop a co-created capacity to host a project together. This is not the same as acting as a facilitator for a team, inmy experience. Core team work comes from the inside of the group, not the outside. This is especially true of the large scale change work, because those projects need more than one person to generate and hold the deepest need, and to create capacity that lasts, that holding must be within the project. The core team then becomes the host for the project and the project become the host for change in the world, or the organization or the community. These fractal levels of work are very interesting to me at the moment, and very important to learn about as well. We’ll be rolling a lot of this thinking into the module Toke Moeller, Monica Nissen and I are leading at the Shambhala Institute this coming summer.
Whale to human transformation mask (Haida)
From Civilization.ca
Harrison Owen, the guy who invented Open Space Technology, in replying to my post about stories, put some words around it � gave me the story in fact � and so I realize now that the reason I love practicing OST is that it really does invite an organization or a community to embody a new story about itself – or to rediscover very old ones. Harrison wrote:
There used to be a day when the power of these deep stories was appreciated, but in recent times they are dismissed with the light thought that they are �just a story.� And of course we all know that only the �facts� will do. And when it comes to myths, these are not only dismissed, but dissed. Worse than a story, myth now means lie and falsehood. How the world changes. And of course, for enlightened people such as ourselves, we have long since thrown off the bondage of myth. How sad. And we never really do � throw it off, that is. We simply develop new ones, and they of course, are understood to be The Truth, or better yet Scientific Truth. But it is still a story, now dressed up in different clothes. We call them �Theories� � but at the end of the day, these Theories are simply likely stories which help us interpret our world. So our essential nature hasn�t changed � we are still story tellers whose life expectations are shaped by the stories we tell. Myth by any other name. What is different now is that the formative power of these tales is somehow out of our awareness. And when the stories are warped, distorted or partial � the world and our space in that world is distorted and shrunk. Of course, we could tell a different story. . .And I think that new story creation is a major part of what happens in Open Space. But it is not so much telling a story as being a story.
This is really important in a lot of the places I work. In indigenous communities and other places where colonialism has done its work, the story of how and what we should be is so deeply informed by the colonial culture that it is very rare that an Aboriginal organization or community actually gets to embody and manifest an identity that is NOT constrained by the colonial story. In these communities of course this is most visibly seen by the way local First Nations governments organize community meetings by setting the room up as if it is a school room, with the experts at the front and the masses in rows of chairs. Even if the government is trying to embody an inclusive style by holding consultative meetings with the community, I often wonder if the form of the meeting, the process itself is doing more harm than good. And when the subject of the meeting has something to do with the recovery of cultural resources, or land rights or something else that is so closely aligned to indigenous identity, then it school-room type public meetings become almost too painfully ironic for me.
As groups working in Open Space, we get to try out a new story, and this is largely the process benefit of the one-off or event-based OST meeting. I realize now that I usually close these meetings by inviting people to notice how the quality of the room has changed, how relationships have changed, how the same people we looked at in the opening circle suddenly seem different after only a few hours together. The people haven’t changed of course, but our stories about them and about how we can relate to them, have changed. It’s nice to leave people with a question in their minds about how that change took place and how easy it might be to recreate it.
In that sense OST is a powerful tool for decolonization and healing in communities – that has largely been my experience. Some people fall into OST like it is a feather bed – they just seem to enfold themselves in the dynamics. Others find it hard going, and some hate the process. And still others, and I count many of the “results-based”cynics among them, change and transform and open their eyes to new possibility.
Here on the west coast of North America, many indigenous communities have stories of transformation. You may have seen elaborate transformation masks that feature one animal splitting in two and another coming forward. Those new creatures come forward fully formed from within the original being. The dances and stories that accompany these masks talk about a time in the world when animals and spirits and humans could change easily from one form to another. It is a reminder of both the interrelated nature of all beings and the ancestral time when these happened regularly.
For me too though it is also a reminder that the story of transformation lives very powerfully in these communities and cultures. Whenever we talk about transformation here on the coast, I invite these stories and see what they can offer us about transformation of our organizations and ways of doing things and perspectives about work, results and process. Often they invite us to uncover the real core story that lies fully formed beneath the unconscious exterior.
Recovery of these tools and stories is critical to recovering authentic expressions of community and organizations that nestle naturally within the indigenous context. Because after all, at a very deep level, indigenous cultures and world views are still here and still alive although they may be glazed over by the patina of a century or more of contact, sharing and transcendence.
Open Space invites us to go deep and rediscover the foundations that inform all of our process work and which, in the end, does get results. So it becomes an elegant BOTH/AND thing. We can foreground parts of the contemporary “results-based” story that help us do work and “make things happen,” and we can also choose to foreground the stories that show us how we live in relation to one another and to practice living and working in full acknowledgement that our lives are dependant on those connections.