I’ve just had a remarkable experience. For the first time, I presented at a business conference where all the other speakers were saying nearly the same thing that I was. Each in our own way, we all spoke of living systems principles in organizations – things like self-organization, emergence, resilience and wise stewardship. And the audience couldn’t get enough of it, easily embracing things that others find challenging. What was most remarkable was that it was a gathering of software developers. We were at Microsoft’s New England Research & Development Center - the NERD Center. And my every assumption about techie nerds was shattered.
June 2, 2014
On Wasan Island, a few days into a week-long exploration of the Soul of Place. Already so full of richness... trust and connection.... heightened awareness of what’s possible and what’s really needed - for each of us, in our work, in the world.
"Placemaking" was the official topic of the week-long retreat that has just come to a gentle close. But the phrase has never felt quite right. Volker Hann, the host of 5-acre Wasan Island where we gathered, hinted at the inadequacy of the term: "Am I a placemaker? Or am I placemade?"
Sitting on a rock one morning as we gathered around to hear her story, Vanessa Reid talked about cultivating "homefulness." That feels more accurate to what we explored and experienced during our time together on the island.
[This is part of a series of harvests from the Thrivable World Quest, a learning adventure across multiple cities to explore how organizations must be if life is to thrive.]
In our most recent exploration of what makes an organization “thrivable,” we looked at the personal meaning people find in their work and in their workplaces: Where do we find it? How do we create it? Here’s some of the treasure we discovered along the way. It offers valuable clues for leaders – but most of all for each of us – as we strive to make our work rich with meaning.
I spent a nourishing day recently learning about social labs – an extended process to solve complex challenges by gathering diverse stakeholders in an alternating rhythm of meetings and on-the-ground prototyping. In one example, a lab to accelerate the adoption of renewable energy sources brings together utility companies, alternative energy providers, regulatory bodies and end-users.
For the past two days, 12 of us gathered in Montreal to explore what happens when the spirit and practice of thrivability meet the world of impact investing. The group consisted of local business leaders committed to the practice of thrivability; impact investors in search of what else is possible "outside the lines"; and thoughtful explorers and supporters of the emergent future. Our goal was less to provide definitive answers and more to get something started - to begin to identify key questions for a more extensive exploration.
Two definitions of thrivability were offered lightly and seemed to provide helpful framing:
* "Thrivability is the intention and practice of aligning organizations with how living systems thrive and how people thrive."
[This is part of a series of harvests from the Thrivable World Quest, a learning adventure across multiple cities to explore how organizations must be if humanity is to survive - and thrive.]
On the first “island” of the Thrivable World Quest, we explored the need for Heroic Cause in organizations. And one of the things we discovered is that what’s needed is something that feels quite a lot like a Quest – a little boldness, a lot of determination, a sense of adventure, and a band of people who are resolved to defy the status quo and to overcome the challenges they face, against all odds.
[This is part of a series of harvests from the Thrivable World Quest - a learning adventure across multiple cities to explore how organizations must be if humanity is to survive - and thrive.]
Every time I speak to an MBA class about thrivability (as I did recently), it’s only a matter of time before someone asks: how do you measure it? For some reason, it’s only MBAs who ask this.
Stepping out of the train station in the center of Amsterdam, I was immediately struck by the way the city flows. “It’s orderly... but organic,” was the thought that came to mind. There are three times as many bicycles on the road as cars (three times!), and even more pedestrians. Then there are the busses and the electric trams. Every centimetre of the city seems to be a swirl of constant motion. And yet, in the week that I was there, I saw not a single traffic light or stop sign (nor a helmet, in fact, even on children). It should have been rampant chaos, but instead it was a beautiful, self-organizing dance.
Surely, there are lessons here for organizations and for the thrivability movement, I thought. And there were.
Have you ever invited friends from different parts of your life to a dinner party, and then wondered how they’re going to get along? That’s a little what my situation feels like. The “friends” are the Art of Hosting and Applied Improvisation – two global tribes and powerful approaches to facilitation. In fact, these two worlds overlap so significantly that it’s impossible to draw a clean line between them. And yet, they feel dramatically different from each other. To be honest, that confuses me.
I heard a beautiful story recently - a true story set at the height of World War II during the devastating Siege of Leningrad, when the Germans blockaded and bombed the city for over two years. The story centers on the famed Hermitage Museum. To protect the museum’s vast collection of paintings, the curators and docents took them all down from the walls. But as a sign of their commitment to bring the paintings back, they left the frames in place. During the siege, many of the staff lived in the museum’s basement. And astonishingly, at least one continued to give tours to occasional visitors. He would stand with people in front of the empty frames, describing the missing artwork in such vivid detail that it was as if the paintings were still in place.
[I spoke last week at Webcom, a Montreal-based conference about "smart cities" - meaning, those that are connected, informed and creative thanks to digital technology. The message I shared was that cities are "smartest" when they operate in alignment with Nature's core operating pattern, and that creating the conditions for life to thrive needs to become the explicit objective of our technology initiatives. Here's what I said in my five-minute talk.]
To me, a smart city is most of all a living, thriving city. Nature has the ultimate intelligence. So the more we can align our cities with how Nature operates, the smarter our cities will be - the more resilient, and adaptive and creative they’ll be.
It’s funny how life works – or I should say: it’s funny how death works. I had a conversation about organizational hospicing with a friend last week Thursday and then the next day I was presented with an opportunity to practice hospicing in my own life. My sense in both of these experiences is that there’s something important, potent - and generally overlooked - in that concept.
5 hosts. 6 teams. 35 other cities participating. 48 hours to “rock the public sector.”
Those were the key stats of GovJam Montreal, a global event in which local teams applied the tools of “service design” to conceive and develop viable projects that transform some aspect of public service (meaning: anything that our tax dollars pay for).
In January this year, over 100 people gathered in Montreal for three days to learn and practice The Art of Hosting – a globally applied philosophy and set of methodologies to support “meaningful conversations about things that matter and that lead to lasting change.”
The first afternoon of our three days together revolved around the question: “What are the possibilities and opportunities at this moment in Quebec?” The question was particularly potent, coming on the heels of Montreal’s "Maple Spring" and landing amid a sense of transformation in nearly every facet of Quebec society.
I was the “closer” – the final speaker for the three-day Canadian national conference of over 100 Salvation Army Thrift Stores. Technically, I was supposed to inspire them. But it felt like the inspiration was all mine. What a hidden gem I found in those people, in their passion, and – most of all – in their business model. And the question I left with was: Why hasn’t the world of social enterprise noticed what a shining example they are?
[This is my harvest from a conversation I co-facilitated recently at the annual conference of the Association of Archaeologists of Quebec. I find the topic important enough to share here, with permission from the conference organizers.]
I had a wonderfully stimulating lunch conversation with new acquaintance Lise Palmer of Spark Consulting recently. She had the delightful ability to challenge everything I’m passionate about in a light, playful way so that we could both happily learn through the discussion. Specifically, she was (and generally remains) skeptical about "the universal applicability of the living systems view of organizations." I've shared her three major objections below, along with my responses. There's more learning to be had, for sure, but I enjoyed the opportunity to articulate my current take on things.
For the three-day Art of Hosting gathering in January, several of us on the local organizing team offered to steward the “harvest.” In other words, our task was to support, document and share tangible outcomes. As Chris Corrigan likes to point out, “you’re not planning a meeting; you’re planning a harvest.”