 ‘If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.’ (Erica Jong) I ran a vision and team development day yesterday for a group of inspiring Christian leaders. Their chosen venue was a football stadium (a new experience) that looked quite breathtaking for someone like me who doesn’t know the first thing about the sport. We grounded the day in a specific spiritual account, then used Appreciative Inquiry to discover, dream, design and decide in relation to it. One of the themes that emerged was, in a social and geopolitical context marked by increasing anxiety, how to avoid manifesting an anxious presence too. After all, the leaders in the group are working in the same contexts and subject to some of the same stresses and dynamics as people living in their wider communities. I was reminded of BANI – brittle, anxious, non-linear and incomprehensible. I glanced out of the window and noticed emblazoned above the stands, ‘Our Loving Devotion Guides our Livelong Dream’ and, beneath that, four short banners that repeated one simple message: 'Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing.' Love is an antidote to fear. One participant said: ‘What am I willing to do, that others may know they are loved by God?’ That's a courageous question.
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 ‘Sometimes it takes a natural disaster to reveal a social disaster.’ (Jim Wallis) I didn’t sleep well last night. This time, it wasn’t fake news. Typhoon Tino hit hard and battered central Philippines, leaving at least 188 people dead and thousands of others’ fragile homes and livelihoods shattered. It came on the back of a 6.9 earthquake in the same region just weeks ago that left at least 74 people dead and countless others injured or without homes. Jasmin called me from within the Signal 4 storm itself last night, just before the power cut off. Wind and rain were lashing at her windows, along with windswept objects crashing against the glass. Trees outside were uprooted violently and thrown to the ground. She looked anxious and I felt terrified. The deep flood waters that followed have left much of the area underwater. Thank God, she managed to message me this morning with snapshots of the devastation outside, yet her family safe on the inside. We had prayed hard last night – Jasmin with faith and me in near desperation – and I had a mysterious dream of Jesus alongside her there, reflecting a supernatural biblical account of Presence and survival in impossible circumstances.  ‘What happens is what happens. The beauty is in the imperfection.’ (Will Moule) I can already hear those with a perfectionist streak raising shrill voices of protest. ‘Surely we should be aiming for the ideal?’ I ran an Institute of Leadership and Management recognition workshop for Action Learning Associates-trained Action Learning (AL) facilitators yesterday. One of themes we discussed is how to work with emergence in an AL set (a group of peers doing AL together). This is core to AL facilitation and often quite different to, say, managing training. How is that? What does that mean? Firstly, the agenda for an AL set lays in the hands of set members; the process in the hands of the facilitator. More often than not, the facilitator won’t know in advance what challenges set members will choose to address in a specific AL round (session) when they select and work on issues to reach a solution. Peers are unlikely to know, too, what questions they will pose and how an exploration will unfold organically during that round. Those presenting (that is, thinking through an issue with support and challenge from peers) sometimes don’t know at the outset what the crux of an issue is for them; and won’t know until the round progresses what direction an exploration may take, what discoveries may surface and what the resulting outcomes may be. AL therefore involves inviting and staying with, as far as we can, a state of curiosity – an openness in the moment to whatever of significance may arise. A paradox for the facilitators lays is that, insofar they may try to control what happens in a set to achieve an ‘ideal’ process or outcome, that same effort to control may inhibit or even prevent optimal results – a bit like how grasping a beautiful flower too tightly may squeeze the life out of it. An effective AL facilitation style entails adopting an open, agile presence and stance, trusting that what needs to be said will come up naturally. Hold the process and release the group. (See also: Emergence in coaching; Test and learn; Plan vs prepare)  ‘Our children need our presence more than our presents.’ (Jesse Jackson) The pilot’s announcement came as a surprise as we sat on the runway at Amsterdam airport, waiting to take off. ‘Apologies for the delay. There’s a technical problem.’ 15 minutes later, ‘We need to refuel the plane.’ Bemused faces among the passengers – didn’t it occur to anyone to refuel the plane? 30 minutes later, the captain again over the tannoy: ‘I have good news and bad news. The good news is the plane is now refuelled. The bad news is that, while refuelling, the ground crew noticed evidence of a bird strike on the plane’s engines. We can’t take off safely until the damage has been checked and repaired.’ Looks of stunned disbelief all around now. A 13 year-old girl sitting next to me looked up and spoke to me, a total stranger. ‘Where are you travelling from?’ she asked. ‘I’m on my way back from Germany,’ I replied, ‘How about you?’ ‘I’ve been here for a hockey competition with my school,’ she said, pointing to the 49 or so other children sitting around us and the teacher sitting beside me across the aisle. ‘How did you get on?’ I asked. ‘Well,’ she replied, ‘they were 17 year-olds, and we still won.’ She went on to tell me about her life, all the astonishing things she had achieved in so many fields. ‘Your parents must be very proud of you.’ I said. She looked down, sadly, and sighed ‘I don’t think they feel proud of me.’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘You remind me of my youngest daughter when she was your age.’ I said, and I showed her a photo on my phone. ‘Yes, I can see the likeness.’ she smiled. I shared a story of how I used to take my daughter to her primary school and hold her hand all the way to the door. One day, in a deeply sensitive and diplomatic tone (well beyond her years), she said, ‘Dad, I know you love holding my hand and taking me to the door. I love it too. But have you noticed the other parents wave goodbye to their children at the school gate?’ I knew what she was trying to tell me. I learned to let go and wave from the gate. It was a parental rite of passage. My neighbour looked deeply thoughtful. ‘I would love to have had my parents walk me to school and to hold my hand like that.’ ‘Didn’t they?’, I asked. ‘No,’ she said, ‘They made me walk to school alone because they wanted me to be independent.’ I felt her sadness. Here was this young person, so very talented, with wealthy and high-achieving parents who clearly support her in so many ways (including her determined ambition to become an Olympic athlete in 2028). Yet, nonetheless, at a simple human level, she felt so alone. The pilot interrupted our chat, ‘The repairs are done and we’re ready to take off now’. We were both very quiet during the flight back.  ‘You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.’ (Mark Twain) I worked with a group of very busy professionals this week who had carved out precious space in their diaries to help each other think through complex work-related issues. The process I was there to facilitate can be powerful yet demanding and requires presence, focus and careful listening. I’ve noticed that one of the challenges of meeting, particularly online, to do this type of work is that participants can feel time-pressured or tempted to leap straight into the session from other meetings, phone calls or tasks. In order to enable participants to arrive, therefore, I invited them to pause for a moment and to create their own ‘not to-do’ list for the next 12 hours. The session itself would only last for 4 hours, interspersed with breaks, but it allowed them opportunity to reflect and...breathe. After a few minutes, I invited them to disclose highlights from their lists and to share what it was like to identify not to-dos. They said they found it empowering and releasing. Now they could focus. What focusing exercises have you found useful? ‘When the bombs were falling like rain, Jennie stayed here with us.’ As a leader in international NGO, Tearfund, Jennie had always struck me as a quiet and unassuming person. We visited community rebuilding initiatives together in Lebanon just after the harsh and brutal civil war. Amidst shattered buildings, lives broken by sectarian conflict, aerial bombardment of the Beirut power station (just as we arrived) and Syrian ‘peacekeeping’ troops everywhere, we met with Christian leaders who recounted countless stories of heartache and hope. One of the things that struck me most was their deep reverence and respect for Jennie. Whenever she spoke, they listened with profound attention. Curious about this, I asked one of the leaders about it afterwards. He replied, ‘During the war, most NGOs withdrew because it became too dangerous for them to stay. Jennie was different. She refused to abandon us. When the bombs were falling like rain and we had nowhere else to run to or hide, Jennie stayed here with us.’ I felt completely speechless, humbled and amazed. I imagined myself in that same situation: how I would almost certainly have fled for my own safety – and have found or created very good reasons to justify myself for doing so. Yet what an impact now. The leadership and influence that Jennie was able to bring to this work by having been-with; not based on any hierarchical status, power or authority she held, but on a deep and incarnational, presence, relationship and trust.  Have you ever felt truly seen? Perhaps the romantic gaze of a secret admirer from across the room? Perhaps a boss, colleague or friend who acknowledged your best efforts, talents and achievements? Perhaps an encounter where you felt exposed, vulnerable – and yet accepted? There’s something about being seen that can be and feel tremendously affirming, reassuring and life-giving. In some cultures, it’s as if we don’t truly exist until seen by another; whether that be e.g. God, a lover, a friend or a family member. In some deep existential way, I know that I am because you perceive me.
Consider the alternative: how it is to be and to feel unseen, ignored or invisible. It’s as if, somehow, our very humanity, value and existence can be unrecognised, marginalised or diminished. It can feel socially, psychologically and existentially alienating. I was struck, therefore, by the moving example of a student friend in the Philippines this week who spontaneously stepped outside her own world. This girl visited and said hello to some of the poorest people who live in shacks at the roadside beside her college. In this simple-yet-profound act she saw the unseen and, in doing so, the invisible became visible. I believe there are parallels in our organisations here. I think back to some amazing leaders and colleagues who have seen me, often spotting gifting and potential that was not-yet-alive in my own awareness. I also think back to places that have felt stifled by hierarchy and bureaucracy, where people were viewed by job titles and as employees rather than as whole, creative, wonderfully-complex human beings. As leader, coach, OD or trainer, who do you see and not-see? What have been your best/worst examples of seeing and being-seen? What can you do to see the unseen..?  I have rarely witnessed such a humbling, authentic act of generosity. I was in the Philippines for the past 2 weeks visiting people and communities who are, by global standards, economically poor. The Filipina who accompanied me is poor too. She grew up in a remote jungle hut with no running water, electricity or sanitation. She works hard, long hours to support her children, family and community, determined that others should have better opportunities in life that she has experienced in her own. We were walking through an island village with children, teenagers and parents staring and smiling to see these strange visitors. The homes they were living in had only one room, no facilities, and we were passing a small hut with snacks hanging outside it on strings. It served as the village shop. We hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for some time and the weather was hot and humid so I handed some money to my guide to buy herself some food. What happened next took me completely by surprise. This young woman bought all the snacks that were hanging there and immediately handed them to the intrigued children that had surrounded us. Then she walked around, handing them openly to mothers who were carrying toddlers – and toyed playfully with teenagers who wanted some too but were too shy to ask. The scene around us was transformed into one of spontaneous celebration with smiles everywhere and children running and laughing excitedly. It reminded me of Spirit, of incarnation, of Jesus. As we left the village with these images and sounds still dancing vividly in my mind, I commented to this special person, ‘You were amazing with them.’ She looked at me, wide eyed, and replied quite simply, ‘Nick – I am them.’ Those words detonated deeply in my soul. As leaders, OD and coaches, how far do we view staff, clients etc. as ‘them’, distinct from ‘us’? How would it impact on our presence, our behaviour, our effectiveness if we shifted our perspective, our stance, to one of radical identity with..? It can be one of the most painful of human experiences, especially if compounded by rejection or betrayal. But why is loss so difficult, whether it be loss of a person, a relationship, a job, a home, our health? Thinking back, I remember vividly when I heard the news of Princess Diana’s death. I have never been a royalist and had no interest whatsoever in the UK royal family. Yet still, somehow, I felt an odd sense of grief, of bereavement, that made no rational sense to me at all. Susie Orbach, a psychotherapist and writer who applies psychodynamic insights to social and political phenomena, explained this well. Although I had no relationship with Diana, she had nevertheless been part of the backdrop, the fabric, of my life so that when she died, it felt like something of that fabric had been lost, torn away. The subconscious effect of this was amplified and intensified by the social, cultural effects of experiencing that loss alongside others. At another level, this feeling of loss also echoed deeply with previous losses in my life, e.g. when I moved home as a child, when I lost a precious relationship. These combined insights enabled me to understand that Diana’s death carried symbolic significance (some part of my life would never be the same again) and psychological resonance (echoes of previous experiences of loss). I’ve learned that these same dynamics are present when working with people, teams and organisations too. So, if you’re a leader leading change, an OD practitioner facilitating groups through transition, a coach enabling a person to move deeper and move forward: look out for loss – sometimes masked as resistance, sometimes as denial, sometimes as loss of energy and hope. You can’t always know or predict what change may represent symbolically or trigger psychologically. Be present, be patient and be willing to persevere until the person, the group, is able to see and feel light again. I struggle for words at Easter. How can I speak? It’s about horrific pain…and incredible hope. An intense emotional, physical roller coaster that evades articulation, defies human language. It’s a place of stretched imagination, strained to its most bewildering, unfathomable limits.
And, today, I worked with a Christian organisation, Open Doors. I arrived during a vivid presentation about conflict in South Sudan. The images were harsh and hard and yet, in the midst of such suffering, they held strange glimmers of light, of hope. I just can’t make sense of it. So I’m reminded of Christ who presences himself – Person of Jesus, God with us – and Easter’s stark reminder of the risk, the cost, of presence and contact. It’s an existential, spiritual challenge that feels so completely beyond me and yet, paradoxically, the deepest place that I find hope. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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