Meetings: Mundane Can Be Sublime
All of us do mundane things, and we do them regularly because that is part of our every day. In the last few decades, meetings have become the regular mundane thing that punctuates my life -- and I think most people's lives, in some form. Meetings are the necessary stepping stones to getting things done, to making plans, to agreeing on stuff, and often also to getting to know others better. I know lots of people who avoid meetings or dread them because they have no "patience for process." This is silly since process is how we agree on getting from one point to the next, but I understand that our collective experience about process itself is not resolved.
Okay, so that's the dry introduction. It's not really going to get much juicier than that. I just wanted to tell a story about one meeting yesterday and how we got to that place and what came out of it, without naming names or pointing fingers.
In our neighborhood we have lots of agreements, not many rules, some guidelines and some general expectations. One of them is that when a household wants to make a change to the property -- build a shed, change the topography, maybe put in a patio -- we want everyone to know about it and to understand it and to be able to offer our opinions. If we hate the idea, we want to be able to say so. If we have suggestions for improving the project, we have a process for making those suggestions.
Unfortunately, there is a pair of neighbors who live in adjacent houses who have had a history of unpleasant interactions over things that are not completely about topography, but are not unrelated. This has gone on for quite a while, and all of us know about it. It is much more complicated than this, as there are personalities involved, and friendships, but basically most of us have learned not to get our buttons pushed over these issues.
This all came to a head once again when one of the neighbors decided to plan an upgrade to a walkway in the narrow space that the two houses share (each with its own property, with a property line between). For reasons that are not interesting and not all that relevant, they decided to try to speed up the process and try to get it done more quickly (supposed to give 21 days notice, only gave about a week). This was politically incorrect and it quickly escalated into a storm of emails. When this happens, our process is to activate a practically non-existent committee called the Project Review Committee. The PRC is supposed to try to make sure all sides are heard, concerns are understood, and the matter is resolved to the satisfaction of the community.
Sounds simple but of course it is not. As I say, there are personalities and friendships involved, and we are supposed to be fair and neighborly. This is not Reston where you bring your project to a Design Review Board. This is BBH where you are talking to the same people who walk your dog when you are away, who bring you smoothies when you are on the couch, who come to a memorial service on one half day's notice.
It fell to me to be the coordinator of this conversation. I found a day when both parties could attend and I started to ask for volunteers to join the PRC. This was not the easiest task. People didn't really want to get into this one or they were already busy. I sent specific invitations, I spoke directly to people, I did not beg but I made it clear that we needed help. Gradually a small group agreed to participate. Over the week I got into a pattern that I have managed to avoid successfully for years -- I communicated by email and text about the project and the concerns, with both parties. As the week went by, I began to feel uncomfortable with my role as facilitator. I didn't feel that I would be trusted enough by one of the parties. So the night before, I turned to another neighbor who has superior skills in facilitation and asked him to take my place. He agreed.
I had asked the group of volunteers to meet a half an hour before so we could all make sure we understood the scope of our task -- what we were mandated to tackle and what we could leave off the table. Since this wasn't a seasoned group, this seemed necessary. In the middle of our meeting, one of the affected neighbors came and found us there and wanted to join us. We declined, there was a bit of unpleasantness but eventually we were left to finish our conversation.
At the meeting, to my surprise, about 15 people filled the table (for some reason I counted 20 but now I cannot think of who those 20 might have been, so maybe I was hallucinating). I announced that I was recusing myself from the role of facilitator and handed over the meeting. Almost all of us had heard all the details before, but we went through it carefully again. The proposed plan was presented, questions and clarifications followed. Concerns were aired and clarified and written down. Then we went outside to look at the site, with string and measuring tapes. We stood in the war zone (essentially) and assessed the possibilities. We listened again to both sides, we asked more questions.
Then we retreated back to the warmth of the Common House to discuss what we had learned. One neighbor was particularly insistent that we needed a better drawing so that we could all picture it better. A drawing was made. It sufficed. We sat with what we had all heard and seen and then we decided that the proposed plan did not need modification, only clarification. So we clarified it to death and then we were done.
The homeowner with concerns was not happy but had definitely been heard. I felt exhilarated to have been part of this, even though it was totally ridiculous for all of us to spend this much time on a project that did not require changes. One of the neighbors pointed out that we had spent twenty hours on this topic (and that's not counting all the hours before, communicating before the meeting) and that seemed like enough.
So, for me, this had all the elements of a good meeting. There was preparation, there was an agenda, a skilled facilitator, alert participants, and we had NO idea what was going to happen. These are my favorite meetings, when all are there with a clarity of purpose but no fixed attachment to an outcome. Just the other day we had one of these meetings in the former greenhouse on our Loudoun farm -- about racial justice and what our hopes are for moving forward on some initiatives. It was an awesome meeting, totally different from yesterday's, but it had the same elements.
I have been to hundreds and hundreds of mundane meetings, but this week I got to attend TWO sublime meetings. We all need more of the sublime.
Okay, so that's the dry introduction. It's not really going to get much juicier than that. I just wanted to tell a story about one meeting yesterday and how we got to that place and what came out of it, without naming names or pointing fingers.
In our neighborhood we have lots of agreements, not many rules, some guidelines and some general expectations. One of them is that when a household wants to make a change to the property -- build a shed, change the topography, maybe put in a patio -- we want everyone to know about it and to understand it and to be able to offer our opinions. If we hate the idea, we want to be able to say so. If we have suggestions for improving the project, we have a process for making those suggestions.
Unfortunately, there is a pair of neighbors who live in adjacent houses who have had a history of unpleasant interactions over things that are not completely about topography, but are not unrelated. This has gone on for quite a while, and all of us know about it. It is much more complicated than this, as there are personalities involved, and friendships, but basically most of us have learned not to get our buttons pushed over these issues.
This all came to a head once again when one of the neighbors decided to plan an upgrade to a walkway in the narrow space that the two houses share (each with its own property, with a property line between). For reasons that are not interesting and not all that relevant, they decided to try to speed up the process and try to get it done more quickly (supposed to give 21 days notice, only gave about a week). This was politically incorrect and it quickly escalated into a storm of emails. When this happens, our process is to activate a practically non-existent committee called the Project Review Committee. The PRC is supposed to try to make sure all sides are heard, concerns are understood, and the matter is resolved to the satisfaction of the community.
Sounds simple but of course it is not. As I say, there are personalities and friendships involved, and we are supposed to be fair and neighborly. This is not Reston where you bring your project to a Design Review Board. This is BBH where you are talking to the same people who walk your dog when you are away, who bring you smoothies when you are on the couch, who come to a memorial service on one half day's notice.
It fell to me to be the coordinator of this conversation. I found a day when both parties could attend and I started to ask for volunteers to join the PRC. This was not the easiest task. People didn't really want to get into this one or they were already busy. I sent specific invitations, I spoke directly to people, I did not beg but I made it clear that we needed help. Gradually a small group agreed to participate. Over the week I got into a pattern that I have managed to avoid successfully for years -- I communicated by email and text about the project and the concerns, with both parties. As the week went by, I began to feel uncomfortable with my role as facilitator. I didn't feel that I would be trusted enough by one of the parties. So the night before, I turned to another neighbor who has superior skills in facilitation and asked him to take my place. He agreed.
I had asked the group of volunteers to meet a half an hour before so we could all make sure we understood the scope of our task -- what we were mandated to tackle and what we could leave off the table. Since this wasn't a seasoned group, this seemed necessary. In the middle of our meeting, one of the affected neighbors came and found us there and wanted to join us. We declined, there was a bit of unpleasantness but eventually we were left to finish our conversation.
At the meeting, to my surprise, about 15 people filled the table (for some reason I counted 20 but now I cannot think of who those 20 might have been, so maybe I was hallucinating). I announced that I was recusing myself from the role of facilitator and handed over the meeting. Almost all of us had heard all the details before, but we went through it carefully again. The proposed plan was presented, questions and clarifications followed. Concerns were aired and clarified and written down. Then we went outside to look at the site, with string and measuring tapes. We stood in the war zone (essentially) and assessed the possibilities. We listened again to both sides, we asked more questions.
Then we retreated back to the warmth of the Common House to discuss what we had learned. One neighbor was particularly insistent that we needed a better drawing so that we could all picture it better. A drawing was made. It sufficed. We sat with what we had all heard and seen and then we decided that the proposed plan did not need modification, only clarification. So we clarified it to death and then we were done.
The homeowner with concerns was not happy but had definitely been heard. I felt exhilarated to have been part of this, even though it was totally ridiculous for all of us to spend this much time on a project that did not require changes. One of the neighbors pointed out that we had spent twenty hours on this topic (and that's not counting all the hours before, communicating before the meeting) and that seemed like enough.
So, for me, this had all the elements of a good meeting. There was preparation, there was an agenda, a skilled facilitator, alert participants, and we had NO idea what was going to happen. These are my favorite meetings, when all are there with a clarity of purpose but no fixed attachment to an outcome. Just the other day we had one of these meetings in the former greenhouse on our Loudoun farm -- about racial justice and what our hopes are for moving forward on some initiatives. It was an awesome meeting, totally different from yesterday's, but it had the same elements.
I have been to hundreds and hundreds of mundane meetings, but this week I got to attend TWO sublime meetings. We all need more of the sublime.
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