Shift Happens: What Exactly Are You Growing?
managing change, part 3
Today we conclude our short three-week series on planning and discernment. On week one we addressed some of the WHAT. Then last week we explored a bit of the HOW. Today we delve into the all-important WHY–getting clear on hopes and outcomes. Simon Sinek’s now-famous TED talk has a lot to say about the importance of the why. I want to add a parable of sorts.
During my sabbatical this summer, much of my puttering centered around gardening and composting, both of which are new activities for me. For years I’ve been too busy growing children to grow much else. More power to you if you’ve managed to grow humans and plants at the same time! Now that my kids are older, I decided to make the most of this summer’s down time and give it a go.
We live in a townhome on a small lake and don’t have much space for growing, so I signed up for a small community garden plot here in Reston. I’m on the waiting list, and it’ll take anywhere from six months to a year for a plot to open up, so I figured I’d get some practice with some container gardening. I grabbed a bunch of books from the library, watched some training videos from the local master gardening group (highly recommended), and dove in with about half a dozen containers of fall crops like lettuce, kale, spinach, and carrots. I told myself that my goal was to learn how the process works: to learn the basics of watering and thinning, to figure out fertilizer, to get acquainted with the various pests here in Northern Virginia.
This is what’s known in design circles as a prototype, a small-scale experiment. Our purpose in prototyping is to get something out in the world that can be tested, evaluated, learned from, and tweaked. Prototypes keep us from getting stuck in an endless cycle of research and information–a strong tendency in the organizations I’m most connected to. I could have easily kept reading library books for months and never touched dirt, but there was only one way to move forward, and that was to dive in with something small.
I write in Hope: A User’s Manual about proximate purpose, a term coined by organizational consultant Gil Rendle and expanded by Susan Beaumont in her book How to Lead When You Don’t Know Where You’re Going. Proximate purpose is the next right thing–the small Why that can keep you going when the bigger Why (called the aspirational purpose) feels too hazy and indistinct. Prototypes are expressions of proximate purpose. They’re a great way to get started because the stakes are low. Think MVP: minimum viable product. What’s the smallest change or experiment you can put out in the world that still hangs together? That’s where you begin.
So, I got started with all these seeds, planted in some new containers and some containers I already had, with some new potting mix and some leftover soil, and placed some up on the second-floor deck and some down on the ground-level patio. Everything went perfectly with my prototype–for a while. My seeds sprouted! Growth, new life! And then, the mishaps began. A string of extremely soggy days had me worrying about root rot. An industrious squirrel began digging, disrupting some nascent lettuce. Then my burgeoning carrot tops disappeared from one downstairs planter but not the other. It looked like they’d been snipped by some mysterious set of clippers. That was the low point. I’ve failed, I lamented.
Then I remembered one of the primary benefits of a prototype: as a tool for learning. I’d forgotten the whole point of the container garden was to grow knowledge, not just plants. Every mishap was a chance to learn so the community garden plot will be more fruitful. How about we cover these containers when Hurricane Ian blows through so my baby plants don’t drown? Would garden fabric help deter the squirrels? And I bet the geese who live on our lake nibbled those carrot tops bare. (We’ve moved the other pot upstairs and they’re going like gangbusters again.)
Here’s the thing: I went into this season of experimentation with all the right intents and purposes. I was clear about my Why: to practice being a gardener. But then I forgot. I forgot so easily! I saw some early successes and got sucked into an achievement, perfectionist mindset. I began to dream about a bumper crop rather than staying true to my intent. I began to see the mishaps as obstacles rather than the very things that will instill patience and make me better. I hope and expect we’ll get some actual food this fall. But the real nourishment is what I will learn and be able to apply on a larger scale next time. With this Why in place, failures and setbacks aren’t just inevitable, but welcomed.
It’s an opportune moment for experimentation in many of our organizations. Prototypes are the way to go, especially for those of us who are prone to analysis paralysis. But we need to be radically clear about the Why of our experiments. What do we hope to learn? How will we know we’ve “succeeded”? Where might the current prototype contain seeds for the next? Each prototype should have some learning questions attached to it, and also some space for lessons we couldn’t have predicted. If everything goes perfectly, on one level you’ve hit the jackpot. But beginner’s luck can also be a curse, tempting us into repeating the experiment again and again without iterating, hoping to recapture the magic of the first time.
I’m sure I’ll have more to say as harvest time approaches. For now, I’d love to know what you’re prototyping, and what you hope to gain from it.
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What I’m Up To
A pretty normal week after a spate of travel, but you can catch me on the Habit podcast.
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Link Love
Sharing this PSA from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, part of their Seize the Awkward campaign.
Steady on, friends.