
Harrison, one of the last times I saw him.
I’m on holiday in Portugal about to start a six-day walking trip in the Algarve and I’ve just learned that Harrison Owen died yesterday. His son Barry posted a brief notice on Facebook today.
I had a lovely talk with him a couple of weeks ago before I left on this trip. We talked about some things he was reading (he recommended a new edition of “Order out of Chaos: Man’s New Dialogue with Nature” by Ilya Prigogine and Isabell Stengers) and we talked a bit about family and time of life. He asked me for a good story and I told about some work I’m doing with universities and labour unions around culture change and he just riffed off of those, expressing his usual astonishment that no one quite seems ready to adopt the simplicity of Open Space. It was, literally, the message he preached until his dying day.
Harrison was an important mentor in my life, and it’s fair to say that without his ideas in the world and later his friendship and mentorship, I wouldn’t have been on the path I was on, doing what I am doing. In a post I wrote a few weeks ago, I summed up what he meant to me thus:
Harrison is an incredible guy, a deep river of experience and knowledge. His folksy manner and his constant exhortations to simplify one’s facilitation practice don’t come close to giving the full breadth of his life’s work its due. He is a priest, a theologian, a scholar of Near East religion, myth and culture, a former bureaucrat, community organizer, consultant, teacher, and author, and his whole life has only partially been about Open Space. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t describe himself as a shaman but he was an important mentor in my life. He was the first person to introduce me to complexity theory, to spirit in organizations and to the dynamics of self-organization which transformed my facilitation practice.
So many of us in the Open Space world feel this way about him. I’m sitting today with a reflection on his life in my heart, and I will walk with him in mind this next week across the cliff tops and headlands of southern Portugal, peering out and across the wide Atlantic that he loved so much.
RIP, fella. The space is open.