Peeking from behind the mask

Two articles in today’s Melbourne Age newspaper stood out. This one and this one.

“Tell the story – the more times you tell it, the better off you’ll be.” This was the advice given to  Brant Webb and Todd Russell, survivors of the Beaconsfield goldmine disaster.  They were trapped underground in a small wire cage for 15 days after an explosion on 25 April 2006. Webb says that advice was absolutely true, and he only wishes more trauma survivors would take the same advice.

Steven Amsterdam, writer and palliative care nurse, writes about the pervasive use of a military metaphor to describe illness and death, (e.g., he lost the battle) and how this contributes an added burden to families and friends coping with grief.

“Fear must be made to look like fearlessness. This is not a cure. All of the masking hides feelings and leads to isolation. Instead of a close, supportive connection among family and friends, it steers everyone towards bravado and inauthentic cheer,” he writes.

There seems to me to be a common thread in these two stories – sharing our real emotions. So often I see people hiding behind the mask of how they think others want to see them. Oh yes, I’m guilty too. Leaders in particular in organisations seem to struggle to maintain the mask of invincibility, of knowing what is unknowable, and presenting a positive face to the world in the midst of uncertainty, confusion, even sadness.

How can we support each other to more often reveal the real person behind the mask, with all of our vulnerabilities and emotions? How can we be more compassionate listeners of other people’s stories and more willing to share our own?

Travelling a different road

For many years I’ve been waiting for the planets to align to do two things* – Robert McKee’s Story Seminar and a workshop or seminar with Dave Snowden. I’m still waiting to do the Story Seminar. There is a link, of course. Dave Snowden punctuates his often rambling and diverse ideas and opinions with stories. I’ve found a few days later that I can remember many of his stories. I have to refer to my notes for the other stuff. But this is not a post about stories. It is a post about unlearning,

When I first started facilitating, and considering venturing out on my own, it was in the midst of the systems thinking era. I read Peter Senge The Fifth Discipline, and bought into the whole notion of shared visions, mental models and learning organisations. Frustratingly, I was working in an organisation at the time that was anything but a learning organisation. I completed a Masters of Applied Science that was based on systems thinking. It made a lot of sense. I read Margaret Wheatley Leadership and the New Science.

Today, 15 years later, I find myself letting go of systems thinking and embracing complexity.

Now, many aspects of systems thinking that troubled me are starting to make sense in the light of complexity: the notion that it’s even possible to map systems; the fantasy that is strategic planning – that we can predict the future and prepare for it years in advance; and the resistance to uncertainty and messiness, the unwillingness to let go of control, even when all the evidence tells us that control is not possible.

Complexity has a lot more in tune with ecology, hence I’m drawn to biomimicry; social networks; narrative, stories and metaphor; playfulness; and what we can learn of organisational life from artists, actors, choreographers, musicians, directors, writers, poets, and dramaturgs. It is a rich and diverse field and requires as much unlearning as learning.

Clearly, this journey is not about discarding that which is old and grasping for the shiny new thing. It’s an evolution. I have relied on my somewhat unreliable brain to get me this far, and I hope my brain will continue to serve me. Yet now I understand that my brain is embodied. Parts of it never get activated unless the body is activated. I recognise the importance of trust and how social media can help build and maintain trust. How values are devalued by the very act of making them explicit. How culture is often used as an excuse to not do something, because people are people, no matter where they live and what they do. We should take more notice of mavericks and outliers. Disrupting entrenched patterns is part of the work, and how fundamental rituals are to disrupting patterns. And we need to experience before we process and analyse.

I still have much to explore and much to learn from Dave’s seminar. I am confident though, that although it’s a different road that I’m travelling, it’s one worth exploring.

Fundamental to my journey and exploration is how to apply the principles of improvisation. So here’s a story about another sort of journey and how these improv principles came into their own.

The picture in this post is of the Annapurna Sanctuary region of the Himalaya in Nepal.  My partner and I were on a nine-day trek, a trek that we had put off for 30 years. The opportunity arose so we decided to take it. When this photo was taken we’d been walking for five days – through isolated villages, across rivers, over mountains, down one side and up the other. It was clear every morning, hazy, raining or snowing by the afternoon. I was slow, taking one step at a time, especially on the stone steps that seemed to go on forever. Going up was bad, coming down was worse. As we approached Machapuchare Base Camp I was in awe of the scenery. I’d also had enough walking. I wanted to stop, to drink in the scenery, to rest my legs. So the rest of my walking party left for Annapurna Base Camp where they would spend the night and I would stay put, rejoining them the next morning. Wrapped in a yak wool blanket, I sat on a bench in the communal dining area of the teahouse where I was staying. It was the only warm place. The snow came down lightly at first and then it completely obscured my view. I read for a while, finished my book. Had a cup of chai. Sat, and watched others come and go. No-one else spoke English. A group of Japanese women were playing cards. They invited me to join them. I had no idea what game they were playing so the only thing to do was to jump in and have a go. If I played an incorrect card they would all laugh and shake their heads, explaining in sign language what I should do. They also had some rituals about who got to play the first card and when you won. It was a lot of fun. I eventually worked out the game, won a couple even. It was a great example of what happens when we show up, let go, and jump in: being present to what is, letting go of expectations and needs, and accepting offers. That’s been my mantra ever since I returned from that extraordinary walk in Nepal, and it’s paying off in spades.

*I’ve actually been waiting for the planets to align to do many, many things, but for the purpose of this post, two will do.

Spend a day exploring the edges of work

About 16 years ago, I made the leap from full-time employment and started my own business. I agonised over a business name. I wanted something that would last the distance, and not lock me in to some sort of work that I’d outgrow. I eventually settled on Beyond the Edge Pty Ltd. I was initially attracted to the word beyond. It spoke to me of reaching beyond my own knowledge and experience, and  the unknowns that lay ahead. I chose the edge because imagination was already taken.

Fast forward to 2011. The name has not only sustained me and my business for all those years, it has finally come into its own. Maybe I intuitively knew something?

I’ve been conducting a little experiment recently around the edges of work – exploring some of the approaches that can help us deal with complexity and the demands of our modern-day work.

I’ve written about my experiences of Bodystorming here, and a participant in a workshop where we looked at the tyrannies that sometimes trap us said this:

“I found [your workshop] extremely beneficial for my personal development. I learnt a lot, particularly about my own inhibitions, and how I’ve created rules that are completely artificial, unproductive and unnecessary. After some reflection, I’ve developed some simple steps to overcome my fears of failure – concentrate less on my fears, focus on doing something, embrace being average and just have a crack – be present.”

As a result, Johnnie Moore (UK) and I have begun a venture called, not unsurprisingly, The Edges of Work (web site coming soon).  Johnnie and I have been working together quite a bit lately and pushing each other to our respective edges (where it seems the most potent learning happens). For those of you who don’t know Johnnie, he is incredibly astute at seeing what others miss, likes to playfully explore serious issues and puts a lot of the organisational BS into perspective. We share an interest in complexity, ideas, connections, spontaneity and not playing by the rules!

We’re offering a one-day workshop at this year’s Story Conference in Melbourne, where the theme is Widening the World of Work. We’re going to share some of our experiences and insights around some of the challenges we face in dealing with complexity, unpredictability and demands for creativity, innovation and agility.

The workshop is on Wednesday, October 5 and there’s more information about registering here.

Our understanding is that change happens at the edge: we see it in systems and in our own lives. At the edge, we are away from the routine and familiar: it’s exciting but scary territory, but it’s where new patterns and routines can emerge. How can we, as leaders, managers, and facilitators support people in staying in the space at least long enough for useful change? We’ll share ideas for navigating edge territory, overcoming habitual patterns that give us a kind of safety but prevent us from making real change.

And we’ll share a series of activities we’ve found powerful in getting organisations and people out of stuck places, rigid arguments and unquestioned rituals and into territory where it’s possible for new work to emerge.

We’d love for you to join us. Drop me an email if you’d like more information.

Exploring the Edges of Work II

Anyone visiting recently will probably know that I’m exploring the edges of work – offering a series of short workshops to explore how we might move beyond the rigidity of existing systems and processes to open up workplace creativity, innovation and agility – especially when the currency of much of today’s work is ideas.

So I’m delighted to announce a full-day workshop with Johnnie Moore as part of this year’s Story Conference; Widening the World of Work in Melbourne. Here’s a little about what to expect:

If you’d like to register go here (and if you register before 31 August, you’ll get that cool early-bird rate)

Revisiting the Hero’s Journey

It’s about 10 years ago that I decided I wanted to be a scriptwriter. I’ve since discovered that everyone, at some stage or another during their lifetime, wants to be a scriptwriter. Or so it seems.

Scriptwriting was to be my next career – the one I’d turn to when I was sick of facilitating, and sick of travelling. What I didn’t know is that the universe had other plans for me. I’d discover improv, I’d meet people who would inspire and teach, I’d develop deep, deep friendships that would nourish me. I’d get to work in places like Uganda, and Laos, and Armenia, and Myanmar, and Zambia.

But all was not lost. I completed a Victorian College of the Arts Summer School ‘Writing for the Screen’ delivered by Mac Gudgeon. I have the certificate to prove it. This awakened me to the form of screenwriting, and reignited a love of movies. When I was studying part-time in my 20s for a BA in Media Studies my favourite subject was Cinema Studies.We’d shuffle into the campus cinema on a Tuesday afternoon – a tumbledown old building smelling of must – and about 30 of us in a cinema that could hold a couple of hundred would slouch in our creaky faux leather seats, feet on the back of the seat in front of us, while our lecturer Rob Jordan would introduce this week’s movie, such as Metropolis, Dancin’ in the Rain, or a classic western or film noir. I’d learn about sub-text and back story and icons and music as character.

Inspired by the summer school, I enrolled in the Australian Film, Television and Radio School online screenwriting course. We had our own chat room and everything. I often wonder if any of my fellow students on that course escaped from the olive grove and actually finished their script. Had it made into a movie even. My script is still stuck in the olive grove you see, the main protagonist and her lover…oh, never mind.

My bookshelves are scattered with books from that era. The Seven Basic Plots by Christopher Booker; Daily News, Eternal Stories by Jack Lule; Story by Robert McKee (of course); Alternative Scriptwriting: Writing Beyond the Rules by Kan Dancyger and Jeff Rush (bet you’re surprised I was attracted to that title?!) and The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler.

It’s this last book that has had a lasting impression.

Vogler uses the Hero’s Journey as the basis of his ‘mythic structure for writers’. This so enthused me that I developed ways of using this structure in my facilitation, re-imagining the structure as The Facilitator’s Journey.  My friend, Simon Kneebone, did some cartoons. You can check it out here Facilitator’s Journey Summary

Fast forward to 2010. Three incidences within a few short weeks.

1. It’s a workshop for facilitators recently employed for a completely new community program. I’ve been asked to help them explore how they can be creative, ‘out there’, build relationships, have fun, support each other even though they are geographically diverse. I made the Facilitator’s Journey into a small booklet for each person and had them interview each other, in pairs, about their forthcoming journey. It was the first time I’d used it for years.

2. The Applied Improv Conference in Amsterdam. I walk in – late – to a workshop, and there spread around the floor in a circle are the very same 12 parts of Vogler’s Hero’s Journey. I watched as a small psychodrama played out around the crossing of the first threshold.

3. In amongst my latest delivery from Amazon is Nancy Duarte’s new book, Resonate: Present visual stories that transform audiences. You guessed it – Nancy also uses Vogler’s Hero’s Journey as a spine for unearthing the story behind your kick-ass presentation.

Do the think the universe is sending me another message?

Storytelling

There is a certain embarrassment about being a storyteller in these times when stories are considered not quite as satisfying as statements and statements not quite as satisfying as statistics; but in the long run, a people is known, not by its statements or its statistics, but by the stories it tells. -Flannery O’Connor

HT – Patti Digh

Living an improvised life

The third and final day of our Playback Theatre Summer Intensive Workshop presented by Melbourne Playback Theatre Company brought together a number of disparate threads – and brought to mind some of the key lessons I’ve learnt over the years from improv theatre in its various forms. Lessons learnt and still being practiced in that unending journey towards mastery. Here’s what I was reminded of this weekend.

Your body knows before your brain
I catch myself over thinking. I can see others thinking too, coming up with an idea or a plan before doing anything. Hesitating. Rejecting the first idea because it’s not ‘good’ enough. Trust. It comes back to trusting that the movement in your body will spark something in your mind. I can’t tell you how often I have proven this to be true. Not knowing what I’ll say or do, just moving into the performance space, whether that be on the stage or in a workshop, and trusting that whatever I need will surface when I need it. Would I do this all the time, or in every situation? No. But I can train myself to do it on those occasions when that’s what’s needed. When more thinking, or more planning, will not add an iota of value.

Start anywhere, and just start!
When faced with not knowing, complexity and no right answer, where is the best place to start? That question has no answer. It’s nonsensical. Start anywhere and see where it leads. If it leads to a dead-end, try something else. The trick is to just start, and to start anywhere.

Strong offers are worth their weight
A strong offer is clear, it’s robust, it’s obvious, it’s easy to respond to. A weak offer, like a hint, doesn’t support your partner or others, and it’s ambiguous. Support each other by making and responding to strong offers.

We learn, and connect,  from doing and watching
We learn different things from doing – being in the work – and from watching others do the work. This is true of Playback. The perspective of a player (the actor) is quite different from the perspective of the teller (of a moment or story), and is even different to each and every audience member. Yet we remain connected – the players, the teller, and the audience – through our common experiences, our empathy and our differences.

It’s okay to do nothing
Sometimes, our presence is enough. We don’t need to be doing something, when others know we are there supporting them. Our presence is enough. That’s all.

Our stories reveal a lot more about us than anything else
I might tell you about what I do, where I live, my family, my work – and you will know me through that lens. Yet if I tell you my stories, if I reveal my vulnerabilities, and you can share my laughs and my tears, will you not know me a lot better? Playback Theatre embodies that sharing.

Thanks to Mike McEvoy, Ian David, Glynis Angell, Andrew Gray and Ernie Gruner – all from Melbourne Playback Theatre Company – who  conducted the workshop and contributed to my learning. And thanks too to my fellow participants, who so willingly and generously shared their stories, and themselves.

From complex data to an understandable message

Here’s a great example of explaining a complex concept simply. Hat tip to Nancy Duarte over at slide:ology where there’s more great examples of simplifying your message. I like this comment from Nancy:

“How would you explain your story to a friend who knows nothing about it? How would you get your grandmother to understand and be moved by your message? Before jumping into your next presentation, take a deep breath and remember that for an audience to comprehend your message, you’d have better luck by making it comprehensible.”

Playback Theatre Workshop

WooHoo! This is just the ticket. Melbourne Playback Theatre Company is offering a weekend intensive at the end of January. I wrote about Playback Theatre and community building here. I can’t think of a better way to ease into a new year. Wanna join me?

Summer Weekend Intensive

Melbourne Playback Theatre Company is proud to offer a weekend of training in Playback Theatre Practice.

There are 3 workshops over 3 days (with just enough space for your family duties!)

Friday         29 January         7pm to 9.30pm
Saturday    30 January          12.30 to 5pm
Sunday       31 January         12.30 to 5pm

Venue: Dancehouse , 150 Princes Street, Carlton.

“Investigating Story”

The great pleasure in Playback Theatre is seeing a story retold and transformed.
In this workshop we will continue our investigation of what it is to tell and re-tell stories, and how it is to hear stories from different perspectives. As part of this we will explore physical storytelling and non-linear narrative.
Whether part of your professional development or personal creative exploration, these workshops are designed to:

• Improve your listening skills.
• Play with ways of communicating.
• Discover and harness your natural storyteller.
• Explore ways of telling and composing story.
• Practice performance and presentation skills.
• Learn the Playback Theatre form.

Your facilitators are Glynis Angell, Ian David and Mike McEvoy.

Cost: Full – $250 / Concession – $220
Enquiries: Phone (03) 9690 9253  or email: mike@melbourneplayback.com.au
Places are limited to 14 participants- book early!

Download flyer and registration form

Community building with Playback Theatre

We cannot hold a torch to light another’s path without brightening our own. Ben Sweetland

My introduction to improvisation was via Playback Theatre. Playback is a form that uses real stories – moments and stories from the audience – as a basis for the enactment. The players use deep listening skills and metaphor to play back the stories capturing the emotion, and sometimes the sub-text. It can be funny or moving or tragic. Anything really. It’s great fun, and a privilege, to perform.

The folk from TrueStory Theatre were at the Applied Improv Conference and provided a great platform for us – newcomers and old hands alike – to explore playback.

One comment that stayed with me was from Christopher Ellinger, who said that “the purpose of playback is community building”. Improv is not usually associated with community building, so maybe this requires some exploration.

It’s described by TrueStory Theatre like this:

The mission of True Story Theater is to promote social healing by listening deeply to people’s stories and transforming them spontaneously into theater. Our events create a respectful atmosphere where every voice can be heard and any story told — however ordinary or extraordinary, difficult or joyful. True Story Theater offers audiences fresh perspectives, deeper connections, and a renewed appreciation for our common humanity.

I’m reminded of my own experiences learning playback and performing. We built community amongst our dispirate troupe of newbies grappling with the form by turning up each Tuesday evening and telling our own stories: there was the woman minister dealing with the hierarchy and expectations of the Church and her family; the daughter of social workers who had grown up in institutions; the male beautician who went on to become a regular playback performer; the young couple just starting an organic fruit and vegie business. Oh, and I was there too, just starting out on my own in business – and exploring improv for the first time.

We’d share moments from our week, and stories that grew and developed. It was like living in a real-life melodrama serial. And all the while we’d practice listening – listening for the essence of the story, a metaphor, what’s not said and how it could be restated as three sentences. We’d practice each of these in turn, and then we’d practice listening for all four at once. It was the most authentic listening training I’ve ever done. We’d practice playing back, taking on different roles and using different forms. We’d practice accepting offers, and moving the action on. We’d practice speaking up and shutting up. We’d practice making our partner look good. And we’d practice giving, because that’s what playback is all about – the teller giving their story to the players, and the players reshaping it and giving it back. That’s why I also think the essence of playback is community building – it creates shared stories. Your story becomes my story. It creates shared understanding – I can empathise with your experience. And it creates a shared experience, that bonds us and builds connection.

Playback is another manifestation of the power of conversation, telling stories and human connection. And it’s great fun!