It was a full-blown mess. A bona fide shit-show. And she knew the bottom could fall out at any moment.
She had been hired under less-than-honest circumstances, having significant financial problems hidden by her new employers during the interview process. Now, she couldn't sleep, felt like she had no allies, no good options, and a mission she deeply cared for that was in danger of being abandoned.
As she looked for solutions to the problems facing the organization, some constituents loudly questioned her competence, insisting on traditional approaches to advancing the mission even though the hiring committee had directed her to bring innovation and change.
Transformation was needed, but not necessarily desired.
Nonetheless, she was committed to sticking it out. She knew transformation was a long and slow process and that the losing and learning associated with change are never easy when humans are involved. She knew that she was capable and, therefore, the needed transformation was possible. But she needed to find her center.
When we first started meeting, it was clear that I was working with a remarkable person. As she told me about her new position, she offered significant depth and analysis of the organization, its history, and its shortcomings. It was also clear that she was one bad meeting, one insulting email, or one condescending board member's comment away from calling it quits.
She didn't want to quit. It's not that she wouldn't consider it. She understood that quitting is an important option, and sometimes the best way to communicate to an organization its level of disfunction. No, she didn't want to quit because she understood the issues, what it would take to get from A-Z, and had the tools to make it happen.
It was the chaos that threatened her. The unsettling urgency that constituents, employees, stakeholders, and board members projected onto every conversation and every decision. The total lack of boundaries and unreasonable expectations coming from multiple directions.
The chaotic tenor made her second-guess her priorities and values. She felt the need to project enthusiasm and energy at a level that was not natural - and people sensed it. And she was increasingly resentful of the impetus placed on her to provide all the ideas, smooth all the tensions, reassure all the doubters, and convert all the skeptics.
So we went looking for her center - that place where she could be and work in a grounded, calm, and confident way.
Our journey together began with finding small spaces where she could be the leader she wanted to be, guided the values she most treasured. For her, this meant a series of small-group meetings with three or four stakeholders. She knew that small groups are the unit of transformation and she knew that deepening the sense of trust among stakeholders was essential.
It was met with some grumbling, but eventually even those who suspected the small group meetings would be a waste of time came around. Trust deepened, she found her groove, and although many obstacles remained, she found that place within herself from which she could lead.
Her story is long and winding and complicated, too much to tell here. But she credits those small acts of convening, where she could once again integrate her values, knowledge, and actions as the catalyst for her continued work. She found her center, and in doing so found the courage to stay and the confidence to lead.
Finding our center in the midst of chaos is one of the ways that transformational leadership starts from within. It places us within the rolling landscape of our life and work and allows us to make ways within the wilderness.
We can look to the sky, find our true north, and chart our journey. That's what the "Looking Bear" is about at LBL. It's about finding our Ursa Minor, the little bear in the night sky that we look to in order to get our bearings.
This is true whether a person is navigating the challenges of community engagement in a university, NGO, or faith community, or leading a nonprofit or grassroots community. The work starts within, finding center.
I have found that part of my center is to walk with folks as they find theirs, help them consider the paths they might walk, and make ways when there is no path to be found. I help people find their Looking Bear, and it's a privilege. How can we help you?