TRANSFORMATION

If we can recognize that change and uncertainty are basic principles, we can greet the future and the transformation we are undergoing with the understanding that we do not know enough to be pessimistic.

—Hazel Henderson 

In the transformation of the self is the transformation of the world. 

—J. Krishnamurti

 

How is it that we understand transformation?

Whether it happens on a personal, organizational or societal level, we have a challenging time recognizing and understanding transformation when it begins to arrive and can often only see what has happened from the perspective of hindsight.  

In the last edition of this newsletter, we explored the complexities of changing patterns, of understanding the approach to transformation. But what does transformation feel and look like when we are deep within it? On an individual, organizational and cultural scale, it can be confusing, stagnant, exciting and exhausting, sometimes in rapid succession, and characterized by uncertainty, experimentation and surprising outcomes. 

The writer and teacher Sharon Salzberg says that “Transformation comes from looking deeply within, to a state that exists before fear and isolation arise, the state in which we are inviolably whole just as we are.” This is true not only for our own individual sense of transformation, but in the process of healthy organizational and community development.

There are numerous situations that we can each recall where, at a time of change, there is contraction or chaos, rather than acknowledging such a change as vital to how we grow. Being able to hold that sense of chaos without surrendering or being overwhelmed by it is an essential step in the transformative process. 

On an individual level, we encounter expected and unexpected changes daily—from the weather to world news—many of which touch our lives, and many out of our control.  We need to understand the inherent uncertainties in our lives, while also taking clear steps toward making the transitions we desire.

In her book Working Identity, Herminia Ibarra talks about the concept of experiencing multiple selves: in looking at the possibilities for our lives as they develop as different roads, possibly leading to the same place and possibly divergent. While it is important to move toward our vision and live out our values, not holding fast to what we expect of ourselves can allow new, and possibly better, alternatives and ideas to enter our lives. 

The same is true for what we experience in our organizations and our communities. In some ways we are always in the midst of a transformation, always crossing some bridge in our work or life, a sense of history unfolding before us. Currently, we are in a critical time, referred to by teachers and activists David Korten and Joanna Macy as “the Great Turning”: a profound transformation that we are entering and are unsure about where it might lead.

I have always appreciated the sentiment that a friend shared years ago, which I have heard attributed to Lynne Twist, that we must hospice the old culture as we midwife that which is emerging.  I had the rare opportunity to help some dear friends with the birth of their son this summer, and as many of you who have experienced the miracle of birth can attest, it is an incredible experience, filled with the hallmarks of transformation—pain, joy, confusion, uncertainty—for all involved. The experience provided a new perspective on the care and attention needed to create healthy transformation in the world.

In a very real way, we have a rare opportunity to pay attention to what is being born every moment—in our own lives and in our culture—and to ask questions as to how to best experience and support positive change.

CHANGING PATTERNS

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single momentbefore starting to improve the world.

—Anne Frank

The story of our lives and of our world is one of changing patterns.

Such changes are always happening on a variety of levels whether we are looking at shifts in nature or our own lives, in organizational transformations and community transitions, or in the growing awareness around broader patterns such as demographic trends and changes in our global climate. 

Being able to understand, anticipate and adjust for changing patterns is an essential skill as we move through a world which is both unpredictable and increasingly requires that we are able to adapt to and navigate change.  Einstein is often quoted on this topic, as he remarked that “the problems we face will not be solved by the same level of consciousness that created them.” If that’s the case, how might we begin to adopt different approaches to the challenges we encounter—as individuals, in communities and globally? 

Changing patterns on any level asks that we begin with a level of self-awareness and reflection—either individually or in our organizations. Taking the time to understand why we do the work we do, how we communicate with others about our goals and how we work with others to accomplish these goals is critical.

Too often, we are trying to affect change—either through a new product or policy, or through attempting to influence and inspire a new perspective—without slowing down to explore how we remain in patterns that are comfortable, and which ultimately might be unproductive and limit us from creating the broader changes we seek to initiate. 

Of course, changing patterns doesn’t simply rely on our own actions. We need to see ourselves in the contexts of our organizations, our communities and our culture. In adapting to and trying to inspire or amplify new patterns we need to educate ourselves and others about how organizational and cultural systems work.

I often use ecological systems as a model in my work with organizations, communities and collaboratives—and in looking at broader pattern shifts—as they offer important concepts such as complexity, diversity, resilience, emergence and sustainability to build our understanding in this arena. 

But beyond a theoretical understanding and attentiveness to these issues, the practice of pattern change involves acting individually and collectively to create new patterns. This might be a different work schedule you’d like to adopt or a change in how you react to a co-worker or family member, or a new program you would like to initiate in your organization or community. In order for the pattern to change, there must be both a deep understanding of your role and responsibility in creating the shift and the awareness of other forces affecting the pattern. And sometimes, particularly in the case of personal, institutional and cultural pattern changes, the change takes a long time to occur and we must find solace in the small victories and shifts along the way—and even in the setbacks.

At the Center for Reflective Community Practice at MIT, they use an activity called Critical Moments Reflection, where they ask activists and community builders to look back on the moments where something shifted. Often, those moments are the breakdowns, the failures, the missteps—and we must be willing to see these as integral to pattern change as well.

In the work of building a more sustainable and just culture, we can’t be discouraged by those changes that seem like stumbling blocks in the present, but which might turn out to be not only essential, but truly transformative. Feel free to notice the way that something has shifted in your work or your life in recent months—or a way in which you would like the pattern to change: what helped create that movement, or what might be something you can do in order to understand and influence such a shift on a personal, organizational or community level?

ON SUSTAINABILITY

We are now engaged in a worldwide conversation about the issues of human longevity on Earth, but no national leader has yet framed a satisfactory vision of sustainability. It is still commonly regarded as one of many issues on a long and growing list, not as the linchpin that connects all of the other issues.

—David Orr

Many people have shared that they don’t really understand the idea of sustainability—even those who are colleagues in the field. It sounds good, but is it just a buzzword or new mantra, or is there something revolutionary emerging that we need to pay some attention to and learn more about? This is a relatively long article—compared to past issues of The DIRT—and so for those of you who’d like the quick fix, here it is: there is no quick fix.

While sustainability is an idea that’s becoming more of a social movement and a practice, it’s about taking the long view, cultivating balance, and connecting issues and challenges that might seem unrelated to come up with new and creative solutions.  And it requires our ongoing attention and engagement if we are to develop sustainability’s full potential in our communities and more widely.

Particularly where social issues are concerned, we often sacrifice the importance of connecting with others and exploring the bridges and barriers to working together and including a range of voices. Without spending time actually working through these very human issues, the sustainability concept loses its power. I’ve heard people say that sustainability is already stale and not an accessible way of reaching out to people not in the field, or who are wary of the associations with mainstream environmentalism (we often see the term ‘ecological sustainability’ used), which still challenged in its ability to reach out to more diverse communities.

But sustainability is not simply a lens capable of connecting many current challenges and issues. Equally important, it’s also a critical tool for helping people think in a more holistic, systemic and long-term sense—if we can describe it effectively, inspire a broader audience, and provide people with both individual and collective paths to participation. 

A first step, before doing any framing or defining is to set the stage and ask why we tend to marginalize new concepts such as sustainability, which is relatively young, only emerging in our vocabulary in the last 20 years. Perhaps there is a weight of the status quo that acts—not intentionally, but from an inertia of sorts—to slow the adoption of new concepts and the evolution of movements that can truly bring change. And, as has been already mentioned, sustainability faced challenges from the start—not simply in tackling such an enormous idea and the practical steps to getting there but also from being associated and emerging from an environmental perspective.  

Sustainability, as it was defined by the Bruntland Commission Report, Our Common Future (1987) is about meeting the needs of people currently without compromising the needs of future generations.  Since that time, the description of a “three-legged stool” balancing environmental concerns, social equity issues and economic vitality (from local communities to a global scale) has emerged. Fortunately, we are seeing increasing examples of the importance and application of such linkages. Various issues— among them global warming, energy, environmental justice, sustainable agriculture and food, sustainable/green business, green building, appropriate planning and development, and the involvement of youth and the public in community and environmental service—are becoming  more regularly featured in the public sphere.

And though they are still overshadowed by other issues, particularly immediate crises that grab the headlines, discouraging trends, and advertising that still promotes a culture of consumption (and exacerbates the pressures on all three legs of the stool—environment, economy and equity), there is a growing sense of a shift occurring and connections organically occurring among these issues.

Recently, an article by Thomas Friedman on The Power of Green appeared, calling for a new geopolitics based not on nationalism, but sustainability. In it, Friedman draws connections among issues of national security, economics and the environment as a call for leadership for the US in both domestic and international arenas.  This is still framed by articulating an environmental agenda, although issues pertaining to social equity and economics are included. 

For a more local and perhaps more accessible connection to what sustainability might look like, one only needs to look at some of the fantastic work being done by grassroots organizations and coalitions who are having a community impact, while building a national and global understanding and awareness of these issues. One example here in the Bay Area are the efforts via the Ella Baker Center and Apollo Alliance around promoting Green Jobs for Oakland and working with Speaker Pelosi on shifting policy via a Clean Energy Jobs bill.

And thousands of organizations around the world are working on these issues, as documented by the new interactive global database Wiser Earth, emerging in conjunction with Paul Hawken’s new book Blessed Unrest. Sustainability is about moving toward a truer ecology by linking issues of environment, equity and economics on a number of levels. But a concept like sustainability cannot grow into policy and practice unless we add two additional tools capable of motivating and inspiring people to make a difference: engagement and education. 

David Orr, who is quoted above, has also written that “sustainability requires a recovery of civic competence”, and this means that we need to work even harder on educating youth and the public and engaging our communities in issues that affect all of us. “Earth Day” is a wonderful way of doing that, but we need to build our capacity for educating and involving people on a broader level in their daily lives and in their communities.

And we must also be vigilant about ways in which concepts like sustainability cannot only be misunderstood or isolated, but co-opted. In a special “Green” section of the SF Chronicle this week, there is a full page add that announces: “Get Wealthy Off of Global Warming”. While we need to shift toward more socially and environmentally responsible investments, we need to be very clear about what values we are trying to communicate and instill in a more sustainable society.  It may be true that we fundamentally can’t understand the concept of sustainability without simply trying on some innovations and practices first. There might be some efforts at sustainability that initially include unsustainable practices, and that things can in some ways get better as they get worse.

Recent questions about carbon offsets (do they really reduce pollution?) and ethanol and biodiesel fuel (how do we balance food and fuel, and will plantations for biofuels accelerate deforestation?) illustrate this point. If sustainability is about seeking balance, we need to be able to embrace and reconcile the shifts that will occur and the imbalance and contradictions we might wrestle with as we work together to figure it all out. 

Most importantly, whatever our understanding or involvement with sustainability issues and social change, we must do something. In a letter last year to California Governor Schwarzenegger about the global warming issue, a group of sixty scientists and economists asserted that “the most expensive thing we can do is nothing.” And we should be encouraged by Elizabeth Janeway’s thought that “individual actions become transformative social change when enough of them occur.” 

 I’ve found it also helps to try keeping a sense of humor while we strive to create more positive change. One of my favorite encouraging bumper stickers counsels: “If you think you’re too small to make a difference, you’ve never been in a sleeping bag with a mosquito.”

COMPASSION

If we could read the secret history of our enemies,we would find in each person’s story enough suffering and sorrow thereto disarm all hostilities. 

—Longfellow

We don’t talk about compassion a great deal in our culture and ironically, we suffer for it.

If we are dedicated to seeing change take place—in ourselves or in our society—we need to pay attention to practicing compassion as an essential part of both our personal growth and our professional development. Compassion is the ability to connect with suffering, and usually we avert our gaze from or push away another’s suffering—or our own. The opposite of compassion is indifference, as compassion asks us both to feel and to act.

Seeing where we are stuck—in our lives, in our organizations, in our communities—is the first step toward getting unstuck and allowing us to act and have a greater impact. Struggling against or ignoring our challenges often only buy us a little time. In his new book about cultivating mindfulness in nature, Awake in the Wild, Mark Coleman writes that “before we can experience deep compassion for the pain of the earth or humankind or every living species, we must first open to our own suffering.”

If we are committed to changing ourselves and our world, it seems the old adage of “no pain, no gain” provides an opportunity for us to see where we are contracted and ways of breaking those habitual cycles.  If we truly bring all that we are to our work, we bring our pain as well—whether that’s just a bad day, or something deeper.

We’re rarely supported in our work environments to tell the truth and be honest about where things stand, yet this is an essential part of making our organizations more effective. In a fantastic article about this process, Truth or Consequences: The Importance of Organizational Honesty, one of my mentors, Erline Belton lays out the reasons that we are unable to open up in our organizations, the ways that untruths become organizational realities, and the vitality that can come from a process of create more compassionate organizations.  

On a broader level as well, we see the need for compassion as a way of understanding the complex challenges we grapple with on a variety of scales. Canadian environmental philosopher Neil Evernden has written that “we are not in an environmental crisis, we are the environmental crisis.” Compassion allows us a new way of seeing and an invitation to be more truthful. In doing so, we can do some necessary spring cleaning as a way of welcoming the new season. Even if it’s a simple as giving ourselves a break every now and again to slow down, reflect and contemplate a new way forward, bringing compassion to our individual, organizational and cultural roadblocks can create new opportunities for change.

COLLECTIVE ACTION

The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers and cities;

But to know someone who thinks and feels with us…this makes the Earth for us an inhabited garden. 

—Goethe 

Pick a piece of the problem that you can help solve,while trying to see how your piece fits into the broader social change puzzle. 

—Marian Wright Edelman

I heard a story recently on the radio about a new and unexplained phenomenon affecting beehives across the country. It’s being called “colony collapse disorder” and beekeepers nationally are puzzled. They go to open their hives and, in hive after hive, the entire swarm is gone. 

Centuries ago, Marcus Aurelius wrote that “what is no good for the hive is no good for the bee.” Whatever is to blame for colony collapse disorder—possibilities are pesticide use, a new virus, global climate change, or all of the above— it serves as a reminder that we are all living in community, and despite what we might think about our individual fortitude, we depend upon each other.

I often describe my work as “restoring the civic ecosystem”, as the bonds connecting the human community are in need of the same attention that we are witnessing in our local and global environment. And we are also suffering from a variant of colony collapse disorder—in our political discourse, in our community interactions, sometimes even in our organizations and families. 

Daniel Goleman, who has popularized the idea of “emotional intelligence” recently wrote an article about the use of “flame” e-mails—a technological lashing out that is increasing in this age of e-communication. He points to the lack of face-to-face interaction, with its social signals, which promote the growing erosion of civility on-line. And research is showing that “flaming” mimics inappropriate social behaviors seen in those missing functionality in certain parts of the brain. The speed at which we move also might provide clues about our ability to connect.

In Joanna Macy’s work, she often does an activity where she has people move around the room, walking quickly and not making eye contact, as we might while on our way to work or to a meeting. She then has people slow down and make eye contact, and the difference can immediately be felt. Slowing down can create connection—and that can mean walking down the street, or being in a meeting at work. 

In order to solve our most pressing challenges, we need to cultivate the skills of working collectively—to think that we can ‘go it alone’ is a cultural illusion which is not supported by any other natural system or examples from human societies throughout history. We tend to be unaccustomed to the different approaches, perspectives and time frame needed to connect effectively, which tends to reinforce rather than break down the silos that we’ve created. 

In a chapter entitled “Other Selves” from the wonderful collection Rooted in the Land, John Livingston speaks of observing a school of fish and the sense that though “composed of discrete physical parts…its behavior flows from one awareness, one consciousness, one self…the individual is the group.” Granted, humans are not fish—but can we learn enough from fish and other species and phenomena to address our own experience of isolation and the increasing need to embrace collective possibilities?  For a start, you might want to explore the excellent on-line library compiled by the Center for Civic Partnerships. And thanks for exploring the work of connecting with others to complete “the broader social change puzzle.”

INTENTION and ATTENTION

Even if the world were to fall to pieces tomorrow, I would still plant my apple tree. 

—Martin Luther King, Jr.

The poet T.S. Eliot wrote that “ours is in the trying; the rest is not our business.” 

We come into a new year full of hope and expectation, perhaps having made some resolutions about what might be in store for our lives, or how we might like to change.

Intention is the seed that we plant in ourselves to guide us on our path. Whether it is a personal goal you are hoping to achieve, or a major undertaking at work or in the public sphere, there is a power in being clear about your intention for the year—and then in paying attention.  I often encourage friends, colleagues and clients to spend some part of the week reflecting, making the space to both be clear about our intention—for the week, the month, the year or beyond—and taking the critical time in noticing how that intention may or may not be bearing fruit.

In anything we do, our success is tied to the act of tending—intending and attending—which brings a spirit of nurturance into our own lives, and to those with whom we interact. We must be gardeners in both a metaphorical and very real sense—watching the surface of the soil for those intentions to germinate and making sure that they have the water, compost, sunlight and support they need to grow. 

And, paradoxically, we must do this without knowing what will result, but by simply bearing the hope that each seed of intention offers. As Marge Piercy has shared: 

“For as every gardener knows: after the digging, after the long season of tending and growth…the harvest comes.”

HEALING

We can walk through the darkest night with the radiant conviction that all things work together for the good. 

—Martin Luther King, Jr.

Winter is a time for healing.  There is an inward turning as nature goes to rest, gathering energy and preparing for new growth. Often, I observe that fall is a time for reflection—and winter brings the opportunity to internalize those reflections. To slow down, nourish ourselves and feed the possibilities germinating as our future. In many ways, we can see this process as healing. 

Healing is about becoming whole—in ourselves, our organizations, our communities and our world. To pick up on some of the etymology theme from last month, “to heal” comes from the Old English hal, also the root of the word “whole.” So, we can see healing in many ways as a process of “wholing”—creating a more complete sense of ourselves and our world. This is reflected not only in nature, but in many of our traditions—both at this time of year, and throughout the cycle of seasons. Many of our holiday traditions during the winter months involve lighting candles a way of brightening our homes and communities, of finding hope in darkness.

And the spirit of the season is often about gathering with friends and family to celebrate and feast. But it is also about remembering the broken-ness of the world, and about those less fortunate than ourselves. And it is always hoped that once the energy of the holiday season fades, that this spirit of healing and generosity will experience an inertia that carries it through the year. In the Jewish tradition, the practice of tikkun olam calls for us to consistently participate in the healing, repair and transformation of the world. It is an acknowledgement that, though we may be in good circumstances, there are others who are suffering and in need, and that there are part s of ourselves that need the same kind of healing.

The poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow has written: “If we were to see the secret suffering of our enemies, there would be enough sorrow there to disarm all hostilities.” These enemies can be both external and internal, and so the healing process also asks for our compassion—for ourselves and for others. The activist, teacher and Buddhist scholar Joanna Macy in her work of training activists and others wanting to transform themselves and the world, has developed much of her work around taking in the grief and despair that exists in the world and letting that fuel your awareness and action. This is the practice of compassion—of sensing what really exists in the world and in ourselves—and using that feeling to either build awareness, inspire action or both. It is a crucial step that we must take to foster true healing in any context.

And this is what it takes to deepen our own effectiveness, build community and transform the world. At the start of this year, I wrote about the work of DIG IN as “restoring the civic ecosystem.” That continues to be an inspiring goal for my work with organizations and communities and is always re-affirmed at this time of year in reflecting on healing and gratitude. That we must increasingly focus on creating  and repairing connections among individuals, within and between institutions and across cultures, unearthing that which is important in our lives and our work in building a more sustainable, humane and healthier society.

WEALTH

We may know immeasurably more about the universe than our ancestors did, and yet it increasingly seems that they knew something more essential about it than we do, something that escapes us.

The same thing is true of the nature of ourselves. The more thoroughly all our organs and their functions, their internal structure and the biochemical reactions that take place within them, are described, the more we seem to fail to grasp the spirit, purpose, and meaning of the system that they create together and that we experience as our unique self.

—Vaclav Havel

I have always been fascinated with language: How it is used, what meaning we craft with our words publicly or privately, and what significance these words carry into the world. Many of the words we use to express a particular concept have a very different meaning when their origins are explored. Take the word wealth, which we commonly connect with financial abundance or riches, and which from the Middle English is more closely tied to “happiness” or “well-being.”  

We’ve become very good at compartmentalizing our knowledge and our language, often at the expense of seeing the whole and making broader connections. Although it’s repeated in different ways, and especially around this time of year, we seem to forget that true wealth is more about context and relationship—to oneself, a community, a place—than it is about our net worth.  While we’re on the topic, the word worth actually derives from the Old English meaning “homestead” or “enclosed place.” 

How is it that we can reclaim some of the meaning behind our language and in doing this build a greater sense of well-being and understanding? It’s not simply words that we are using: we are creating a shared experience. And if wealth is being created in one sense by producing abundance in one place while leaving a legacy of scarcity in another, I would suggest that this isn’t what is meant by true wealth. However, it’s the meaning that words such as wealth and worth have acquired that keep us limited in our sense of what might truly be possible.

In surrendering to the common understanding of such words, we miss something essential and more ancient about what they are bidding when spoken. Can we strive—not only during a season commonly associated with gratitude, sharing and caring, but always—to listen beneath what is being said for a deeper meaning?  

RITUAL

The terrain of the soul is our new frontier.

—Susan Griffin

It’s striking how, as fall moves toward winter and nature slows, we somehow move in the opposite direction. In counterpoint to natural rhythms, we return from summer vacations to school and new projects at work, and we race toward the end of the year. Rather than slowing down, we speed up. This year, with mid-term elections right around the corner, the energy seems to quicken even more. And we haven’t even reached the holiday season… 

The cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien teaches that “change doesn’t take place in the fast lane.” We need to be in the slow lane and moving at nature’s pace for change to occur. Participating in some ritual practice, on a daily, monthly or annual basis helps us to slow down and re-connect. Whether it’s going for a run after work, doing some yoga or meditation each morning, or even dressing up for Halloween, such practices can serve as rest stops in our days and our lives by altering our patterns and creating some space for reflection, if only momentarily. 

I recently read a beautiful and tragic article which appeared earlier this month in the New York Times magazine on the changes taking place in elephant behavior in Africa and Asia. I was touched by the elaborate rituals and deep sense of place found in elephant societies and the author’s illustration of the similarities in elephant and human responses to trauma. We’ve lost many of the rituals that elephants and other species maintain by virtue of their connection to the land and to each other; and we can see many of the same disturbances in our own culture as have been profiled among elephants—including an increase in violence and mental health challenges—because of this loss and our inability to acknowledge the importance of community and care for the earth. 

Reclaiming lost rituals, or creating new ones, rather than seeing them as archaic or unimportant practices can help us as we cultivate the skills we’ll need to truly build more sustainable communities and create social change. Rituals help us enter “the terrain of the soul,” as Susan Griffin refers to it. As we mark the annual rituals of Halloween and the Dia de Los Muertos, might we see this ancient practice as having a new significance in our lives? And how might we cultivate rituals in our lives that help us connect more fully with ourselves, with others and with our place in the world? 

The POWER of NO

To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: To love what is mortal; To hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; And when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.

—Mary Oliver

Autumn is always a reflective time. Perhaps it is the feeling of the world turning inward on itself, after a summer of growth, readying for the slowness and regeneration of winter rains and snows. In a way, autumn is nature’s time to say no.

A friend recently shared a phrase from the poet David Whyte, who speaks of “the essential no”: the declaration that, rather than limiting us, allows us to move forward in a new way because of the clarity it brings.   Particularly in the sustainability and social change arena—but found almost everywhere in our society—we’re incredibly dedicated to our work, tied to our plans or expectations of how ‘it ought to be’ and so conditioned to say ‘yes’ that we miss the opportunity to take a very different path by simply saying no.  That little word is so powerful and so often inappropriately seen as a negation or rejection.

I like to share with participants in my facilitation, conflict resolution and community-building workshops that usually no is simply a boundary. Spoken in graceful ways, it can offer tremendous clarity of purpose and seed possibilities we never thought existed by creating alternatives. It can seem paradoxical, but how might we actually say yes by saying no? Or, how do we practice saying no in an affirming way? 

There always comes a time for reflection, for slowing down. In nature, this is proscribed by the seasons, and by the cyclical rhythms that each life experiences in that context. Because we have created a different relationship with time and are encouraged by our culture to be constantly engaged, involved and on-the-go, we tend not to say no. It’s just as important—or even more so—for us to take advantage of the opportunity on a daily or weekly basis to create space in our lives for some other experience to enter.

How might you let go and say no in the coming days?