Bedlam 2020

For those of you who have been following this blog for a while, since 2010 I've gotten in the habit of posting a tongue-in-cheek summary and analysis based on where I slept the previous year. As an itinerant process consultant and community networker, that generally turns out to be a fair number of places.

I've chosen the header Bedlam, both because my meanderings are somewhat chaotic, and as an acronym: Bed—Laird's Actual Mattress. OK, it's a bit strained, but you get the point.

In this year of quarantine, I thought about taking a break from this report (what do I have to say?), but then I changed my mind. Although my general pattern of being on the road once or twice a month to visit client groups abruptly came to a halt March 12, I have reflections on my adaptations, and the uncertainties (bedlam?) surrounding them. Let me walk you through the progression…

I. At first, everything was on hold. Two facilitation trainings were halted midstream (one was interrupted with two of eight sessions completed in person; the other had gotten through three). Work lined up with clients was postponed or canceled. It was not at all clear how long the hiatus would last, but my oncologist made it clear that I was at high risk of dying if I contracted Covid, so I hunkered down at home, wore a mask when out (which wasn't much), and we went through gobs of alcohol wipes when anything new came into the house.

This initial phase was characterized by uncertainty. I, as well as everyone else, was in uncharted water, and it was hard to see through the fog. 

II. Next it occurred to me how lucky I was. I was safe, we were financially secure, and I had a loving partner—we were not alone.

The level of disruption that Susan and I were facing was small potatoes compared with many others: think primary care workers, wait staff in restaurants and bars; staff in stores that sell non-essential goods; beauticians, tourist industry employees, people who work in food packing plants, etc. I was shocked to understand how many at the lower end of the economic food chain (which disproportionately means BIPOC—Black, Indigenous, People of Color) were a single paycheck away from having to choose between food, rent, childcare, or medicine, none of which are luxuries.

The economic pandemic was falling most heavily of those least able to cushion themselves from its impact—a problem poignantly exacerbated by the double whammy that Covid is killing BIPOCs at higher rates than whites. (Take a moment to digest that stock indexes today are higher than they were before the pandemic. Shed no tears for the rich.)

In March, Breonna Taylor was killed by white police officers in a no-knock drug raid on her house, even though the suspect the police was looking for had already been apprehended. In May, George Floyd was choked to death by a white police officer on the streets of Minneapolis. These atrocities (and too many others) helped the nation focus on the issues of police brutality and systemic racism. 

The convergence of police violence and how the pandemic has exposed inequalities in employment and health care among BIPOC, has helped place and keep systemic racism in the spotlight. In the spring I was inspired to join a weekly discussion group that meets via Zoom for one hour weekly to explore white privilege and the work we need to do to no longer be complicit in maintaining the status quo. It's been humbling to discover what I wasn't looking at, wasn't educating myself about, and wasn't objecting to around me.

III. I went through a phase of impatience. I have an incurable cancer (multiple myeloma) that I've been successfully managing since its discovery five years ago, but there's no telling how much time I have left, and I chafed having to forego special trips with Susan, visiting family, and work with clients (if I'm not on this Earth to help others why am I here?) I resented losing precious opportunities to do what I love and which means the most.

IV. Then I started experimenting with Zoom (along with almost everyone else). Gradually I discovered I was able to deliver solid work, even on complex topics, over a virtual platform. Previously I was highly skeptical of this outcome, but experiments have proved me wrong. To be sure, there are complications and I still think in-person work is richer and superior, but in these times when groups are suffering and in-person isn't an option, Zoom has turned out to be surprisingly robust. The acid test for me is working with conflict, which requires my paying close attention to energy and nonverbal clues. While it's not clear how much of that is supported by the medium, and how much I am able to rely on patterns that I can accurately identify with fewer cues to go by, it's nonetheless working, and that's the bottom line. 

Gradually, I was back in business. It's not as if groups have stopped struggling. In fact, the pandemic has led to increased pressure on many communities and the need for assistance has risen—especially for someone like myself who specializes in defusing tension.

V. Over the summer, my facilitation training partners and I started offering free Zoom sessions with our students that were part check-in and part instruction, These typically ran for two-three hours every 4-6 weeks. These went well, and ultimately led to an experiment with conducting a full-blown three-day training weekend via Zoom. Amazingly that went well also, so we've restarted both groups where we left off, the pandemic be damned.

Further, we're excited enough about what we can deliver to offer an entirely Zoom-based two-year facilitation training to new students. Not only does this keep the ball rolling, but it frees us up from needing a concentration of students in a given area to support a class, and obviates the need for host groups to feed and house the class for three days. With Zoom students can be anywhere, so long as they have motivation and high-speed internet. (If this opportunity interests you, let me know and I'll send you information about it: laird@ic.org).

VI. With the arrival of effective vaccines, it appears likely that I'll get my turn for a couple of arm pokes sometime in the first quarter (given my age and immunocompromised status, I'm in line right after primary care workers and people in nursing homes). Once it's been determined that enough of the population has been vaccinated to provide herd immunity, I expect to resume travel, and that has buoyed my spirits. Among other hardships, I haven't seen my kids or grandkids (or granddogs for that matter) since November of last year. To be sure electronic connections have been a lifeline and that has helped, but it's not the same as a hug.

VII. I've been a process consultant since 1987. Over the years I've learned I could regularly count on slow times in the year: the three weeks from mid-December through Epiphany, and the summer doldrums (mid-June through August), when too many people are on vacation to justify bringing in a consultant. Now that's out the window. I have never been busier than I am this holiday season. In addition to prep work for my two training classes (and promoting the new one), I am juggling active work with 10 client groups at present (today, for example, I have three interviews scheduled). My cup overfloweth. While I'm keeping up, and enjoy the work, I'm wondering what happened to slowing down for the holidays. I lay awake at night not thinking of sugar plums; I'm thinking about what to say to clients in distress who don't think they're part of the problem.

Talk about chaos at the end of the year! This is a lesson in being careful what you ask for (see point III above). Regardless of whether we want it, we definitely live in interesting times.

In any event, happy New Year to all! I'm an inveterate optimist, and believe good things are ahead in 2021, despite the bedlam.