Control The Burn [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Controlled burn. A fire set intentionally to maintain the health of the forest. It’s an interesting concept. A useful metaphor: what does a controlled burn look like when you are the forest? What are the invasive species growing uncontrollably in your mind? Your body? Your spirit? What overgrowth is choking out the light?

“Organizations are like people,” the younger version of me was fond of saying. “The path to health for an organization is the same as it is for you and me.” My business partner and I were hired for many reasons: leadership questions, change processes, diversity…but beneath the surface reason was always a deeper question: the health of the organization was awry. There was a dis-ease that looked like leadership issues or my personal favorite organizational illness indicator: change management initiatives.

What is balanced activity? A good diet (eating bad information is akin to gobbling bad food)? What is the value of laughter (holding it all lightly)? Above all, the single magic pill capable of healing every ill: attend to the relationships. Process (kindness) should never take a backseat to productivity. People are not widgets or replaceable bulbs. There will be plenty for all if the essentials are respected.

The hard part, especially when there’s pain, is to admit that the only way forward is to stop, turn around, and take a good honest look at what you are doing and why you are doing it. Politics and profit are great creators of darkness, fabulous justifiers of abuse. An alcoholic has to admit their problem before they can address it. The same is true for an organization (or a nation).

Taking an honest look is akin to starting a controlled burn. Opening space. Welcoming light. The destruction of an illusion is a literal eye-opener.

It’s not so very hard. What is true for individuals is true for organizations is true for nations. It’s simple to talk about. It’s hard to do. I learned this too: no one willingly stops and turns to take a good honest look until the darkness becomes…too dark. Until the only path forward is to pop the illusion. Often that begins by stopping to light a fire – first to see and assess the darkness – and then controlling the burn.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CONTROLLED BURNS

comment? share? support? like? change? burn? see? hide? seek?

buymeacoffee is…

Hold Space [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I just realized why the stripped forest is having such an impact on me. While opening the back door to let Dogga out, my dials spun and it slapped me in the face. I am like the forest.

For several minutes, staring at the photograph, writing then rejecting, then writing and again rejecting what I’d written, I decided to get up and let Dogga out. This picture was making me anxious. Moving around has always been good for me when I’m thought-wrestling.

I am like this forest. Exposed. Chips and debris are everywhere. Water is overtaking the trees.

I was writing about a question Justin asked one night at dinner. “What’s your stance about secular Calvinism?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have one,” I replied. Justin’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and I made a snap decision not to follow my reply with an explanation. He was sorting his belief and searching his heart. Empty space was more useful than cramming my erudite-and-empty justification into the moment.

Insight requires space. Lots of space.

I wish I could express how rare it is for me to keep my mouth closed when I have a thought on a topic. Kerri will laugh aloud when I read this to her. “No joke!” she’ll say. I wanted to say to Justin, “I don’t have a stance because I think it’s a given.” His question was akin to asking about my stance on the existence of the moon. No culture sees itself clearly.

No person (me) sees himself clearly.

Chips and debris. The river has overrun its banks. One half of the photo is the result of natural forces. The other half is man-made. Choices. Circumstance and intention. This landscape, once so familiar, will never be the same.

I’ve spent my life cultivating my capacity to see pattern and metaphor. It’s an artist’s prerogative to make the strange familiar and the familiar strange. I am the forest. Familiar, yet completely unknown. Stripped for rejuvenation.

Insight requires space. Perspective requires distance. Perhaps the reason I left open space in my conversation with Justin is something I need do for myself, too. Searching my heart, I am the forest. Stripped of invasive plants I can see all the way to the river. So much space.

What is my stance? Right now, thankfully, I don’t think I have one. I’m holding the space for insight to come.

read Kerri’s blogpost THE FOREST