Musings in the Midst of Change
In July of this year, we said goodbye to a beloved organizational leader and steward with a tenure of 10 years. Her transition didn’t mark the beginning or the end of the transition period we’ve found ourselves in as a team, but it did magnify some of the stretch pains we were already experiencing.
Decision making got murkier, alignment got harder to find, and sustainability started to feel more like an ideal than an actionable commitment. I write this, still in the thick of the challenge and opportunity of this change, as a reminder to my nervous system that there is beauty and learning to be found here. I invite you to share your own reflections as additions to this running list of an attempt to answer – what can transition reveal? So far, this is what I’ve come up with that feels solidified enough to share.
What’s for us will find us
This is one of those affirmations, mantras, that I keep on a sticky note attached to my computer. It’s a grounding reminder to myself that we will move through this in the way we were supposed to. Whether you believe in fate or some grand design or not, I believe there’s wisdom to be found in returning to a foundational trust in the winding path that leads to the abundant future (however different that future may be from current expectations).
A side benefit of rooting in this reminder is that it’s allowed me to hold on more gently and leave space for the emergent, unexpected, and confronting. How freeing it can be to release the tight hold on an outcome when you trust it will be the right one, reached at the right time, by the right people!
Love is a discipline
Organizationally we acknowledge love as a powerful and critical force for change. I’ve been delighted to see love woven into some of the larger discourse within the non-profit sector at large lately. And, this transition has shown me the rigor required to center love not just as a catalyst to change, but to carry you through it.
When I’ve found myself stressed, pressed, and ungrounded, love as an action has felt hard to access and to describe. How do I show up in love for you when your activation is inflaming mine in a way that has my nervous system spinning? How do I find love for the unknown when everyone, myself included, seems to be looking for certainty? Part of the answer for me has been to just commit to it. To slow down, take a beat, and consider what my response would be if it was rooted in love before I share it.
My needs are my responsibility
It may be unsurprising given my work in the people and culture space that I’ve been told I’m a relationship perfectionist. A lot of the labor I do for others is anticipatory. And though I still see the value in thinking three steps ahead, I’ve realized how unhelpful a lot of the assumptions are that go into that kind of work. I’ve found this to be especially the case in a time of transition when change, grief, and fear show up and tug on each of us differently. To assume others’ needs, and that I can tend to them, impedes on agency and self-determination in a way that is neither supportive nor careful.
In the same vein, I can neither expect nor accept others’ assumptions about my needs. Fortunately (and sometimes unfortunately) what I need is up to me to decide. This is not the same as not asking for or accepting help; it’s the opposite! Getting very clear on what support looks like for me and voicing it clearly to those who can offer it demystifies my internal conditions for myself and for them.
Prevention over intervention
There’s a saying we have in our Facilitative Leadership™ for Social Change training – “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of intervention.” It speaks to the fact that a well-designed container can hold a lot more than a flimsy one. Imagine every transparent decision making process, community norm, and clear agenda as fortification and expansion to the sides of a bucket. Every drop of water you intend to fill it with is a process, a desired outcome, a decision, an expressed feeling.
The more fortification people can see, the more trust they have that the bucket can hold heavier and larger amounts of water. The less fortification and trust in the bucket, the higher the risk of water spilling, cracks forming, and alarms being raised out of fear of a flood. It’s a lot more effective to build a strong container at the start than it is to patch a broken one as you go along.
Prevention isn’t the same as assumption, and it’s so important to stay mindful of the distinction. Prevention requires actively seeking clarity on needs and strong facilitation. I admit that determining what those preparatory practices are can be laborious, but as someone with a couple of leaky buckets in my life, I can absolutely confirm it’s worth it.
Different rest for different stress
The final thing I’ll share is around my noticing that my usual stress-busting practices aren’t as effective right now. Creativity has felt elusive and my body’s resisted rest and recovery more persistently than usual. That’s a signal to me that this time of change and disruption is causing a different kind of stress and calling for a different kind of rest.
I’ve found some relief in leaning on one part of my being to rest another. To rest the brain, use the body. To rest the body, use the heart. To rest the heart, use the spirit. What it means to use my body, heart, or spirit shifts depending on what feels most easeful and resonant that day. The most important thing about whatever it may be is to release any expectation of productivity or outcome. Paint with no reference, dance with no choreography, and meditate for stillness over revelation.
May what’s for us find us. May love guide us always. May needs be clear and met. May the container hold us. May the rest be real. And ultimately, may change be a good thing.
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