Dark Nights of the Cooperative Soul

Over the course of my 37 years of community living (and 24 years as a process consultant) there have been about half a dozen times where I've been embroiled in difficult dynamics with another person that have persisted for years, where together we have been unable to turn a corner in how we interact. It just never gets better.

As someone devoted to thinking about and assisting others in understanding and navigating challenging dynamics, this is humbling stuff. When everything I try fails, then what? I'm haunted by the spectre of my blind spots laughing at me. What am I missing?

One of the most delicious ironies about this dynamic is that I can often see how I would reach out to the other person in the moment of maximal estrangement, or how I would reach out to the distressed person that is myself, yet I am neatly disqualified from engineering either bridge-building operation. My antagonist typically is in no position to see my attempts to reach out as well intended, and any effort to guide others about how to hold me when I'm feeling isolated just comes across as self-serving. There is a Cassandra-like quality about this, where my demonstrable skill at working conflict is uniquely inaccessible when I'm a player in it.

Still, there is work for me to do. How do I step back far enough from the dynamic to get an accurate glimpse of how I'm feeding the fires of dissent—all the while lamenting how badly I'm being treated? Usually, I need to go through a period of venting. This typically works best alone (perhaps through journaling; perhaps through a long walk where I conduct a stream-of-consciousness monologue that no one else needs be subjected to) or with my long-suffering wife (who at this point understands that there are times when I just need to unload and am not looking for a response), whose sole (soul?) task is to hold me through the night.

These tend to be dark nights of soul, where I sit in misery and despair until I exhaust the fuel of the latest outrage and in the cold pre-dawn must still find my way to a constructive response. How to find courage that is uncontaminated by revenge or the tainted desire to be right?

I try to see my protagonist as simply someone in pain, doing their best to cope. I try to open my heart to a possibility that I dread: that I am actively contributing to the dysfunction; that I can make different choices and perhaps get different results. I need to consult more than my head and my heart; I need to consult with the heads and hearts of others. I need allies to be constructive. How can I ask for support without asking people to take sides?

I need to steer clear of the cesspool of assigning bad motivation and stick with identifying the actions that don't work for me. Along the way—and especially if the journey is long and arduous—I have the option to exit, to walk away. While I yearn for relief from the struggle and the sense of being vilified, where can I be assured that this will not happen? I have learned over long years that it's important to make such decisions only after my anger has cooled and I can exit at peace (or can be at peace with asking the other person to exit—I have done both).

Many years ago (before I got together with Ma'ikwe) I faced an important relationship choice where I was sorely tempted to find out what was possible with a new partner. I sat with the possibility for weeks before making up my mind that it was right for me to go ahead. It meant ending the intimate relationship I was in and the break-up was messy (which was not hard to foretell). As it turned out, the new relationship didn't gel and before long I was partnerless, which was not at all what I had in mind. However, I was nonetheless at peace because I had done enough personal work before breaking up with my existing partner.

The main fruit of my laboring over whether or not to pursue the new relationship was my realizing that I was not exchanging my existing relationship for a new one; I was exchanging my existing relationship for a chance at a new one. While I was sad that the seed didn't sprout, I at least knew going in that all I had been promised was a seed. Thus, whenever I contemplate exiting as a response to persistent challenging dynamics, I've learned that it is important to do so freely, and without placing any burden of expectations on others to justify my "sacrifice."

In short, I need to be truly at peace with moving on, or else it's a sure sign that my work is not yet done. I'm telling you, this personal growth stuff can be an absolute bitch.

Mixed Bag in the Mail

As an activist and all-around busy guy, I get a lot of email. It goes with the territory. Yesterday though, I had a stand out day regarding what arrived in my In Box—not for quantity, but for range.

Over the course of a 24-hour period, the 40 or so electronic communications I received included the following (of course I'm cherry-picking; there were any number of emails that did not cause my eyebrows to twitch, my blood pressure to spike, or my voice to break out into song):

Communication A
I received an irritated response from Person A (we're in a group together) about how they were troubled by my participation in a recent meeting. There were three specific complaints:

a) This person had informed the group ahead of the meeting that they felt overburdened by their workload (in the context of the group) and needed a shift. Their preference was that they retain as much management responsibility as possible, while offloading some of the grunt work. In particular, they asked other group members to shoulder more of the grunt work.

The matter was complicated by A's report being accompanied by a request that the issue not be processed in a group setting, as A didn't trust that that would go well for them. So, going into the meeting we had been given this heartfelt communication about a group issue (how could we best support A and still get the group's needs met), yet had to navigate how to accomplish that without explicitly discussing it in the group (or at least not yet). It was problematic.

During the check-in (time set aside for people to share about their emotional landscape—where clarifying questions are OK, yet discussion is discouraged) Person A chose to use that time to repeat much of what had been shared in their written communication, and the rest of us listened. An important piece of the story was that A felt that another group member (let's call them Person X, who was present in the room) had recently been shirking their commitments to support A, contributing directly to their sense of overwhelm.

When it was Person X's turn to check in, they had a different story about the dynamic in which they'd been named critically by A, and choose to use their time to tell their version. In that telling, it was Person A who had let X down. Oh boy.

Given that we were: 1) still in check-ins; 2) had not agreed to discuss the issue (and were aware of A's express request not to); and 3) had entered into a tit-for-tat exchange, I stepped in to offer the observation that both A & X had parallels stories about how the other person had been the first to not meet commitments made to the other. At the time, I thought I was being fairly even-handed and not taking sides.

It turned out that Person A didn't see it that way. For A, they had simply told the truth and then Person X slandered them. Seen through that lens, my attempt to stop the he-said-she-said merry-go-round was not even-handed or deescalating; instead, I was perceived as taking X's side and unfairly attempting to curtail A's right to defend themselves against untruths. When A insisted on telling their version of what happened again (peeing on the tires), I had a pained expression on my face and A felt disrespected by that. So much for trying to be a peacemaker.

b) During my check-in I acknowledged that I thought Person A's issue deserved group support yet did not see myself as having time available to pick up any appreciable amount of A's workload. In the email I got from A, they were worried that I was saying I didn't have time for A and also felt hurt that I wasn't picking up any of their work (when other group members had been willing to do so)—didn't I care about the group or about them? Ouch!

In my reply I went back and tried to make clearer that I cared a lot about A's happiness and supported the group giving that issue attention; I just wasn't going to promise that I'd take up any of their workload and I was still trying to figure out how to discuss this group issue when we were asked not to do so in the group.

c) Later in the same meeting, we were tackling the topic of how well the group integrates new people—we had just had someone exit the group abruptly and it was cause for us to pause and look at how we were doing. With limited time remaining (about 10 minutes) I suggested that we spend that time hearing from the two newest people in our group, to get fresh data about how we were coming across relative to our openness to new members and interest in who they were.

While Person A thought that was ultimately a good way to use the final minutes, they were bothered by my having made the suggestion when another person was serving as the designated facilitator. The concern here, as I understand it, was that I was usurping power that wasn't mine, and A wants me to be quiet about how to spend meeting time if I'm not the facilitator. Sigh. Even when my suggestions are sound and things go well, I can get in trouble.

I'm not sure what to do about this, and will need information from other group members about whether they want to hear my suggestions for a good way to focus conversations when I'm not the designated driver.

The hardest part of this exchange is that I felt good about all of my contributions in the meeting, and didn't feel I was unfair or disrespectful to anyone. Sobering.

Communication B
In the same batch of email I got a lovely note from an acquaintance in New Mexico (Robert Griffin) we wrote to share the beneficent impact that my May 11 blog, Dark Nights of the Cooperative Soul had on him, where I explored my painful journey in dealing with persistent stuck dynamics. Robert reported on his parallel efforts to work more with silence as an aid to immerse himself in the other person's reality without judgment. It was a touching exchange.

Communication C
I got a note from a compatriot in another group I'm part of (who I will cleverly label Person C) relating details about a conversation they'd had with someone outside the group (Person Y) with whom we both have had cooperative dealings. I didn't have a good reaction to what I'd learned.

The occasion for the communication was that Person Y had recently approached me to get a benefit that was under the control of Person C. When I touched base with C about whether they thought it was good idea, they balked: "Our group had already extended benefits to Y and where were we going to draw the line?"

What I learned was that in securing the prior level of benefits from C, Person Y had implied that our group "owed Y" for having previously extended some comparable "unspoken" benefits to me. This didn't go down well on a number of counts:

a) There was nothing "unspoken" about what I had previously negotiated with Y; it was the result of deliberate communications that took months to conclude.

b) In exchange for what benefit I was receiving from Y, I was delivering a considerable package of work that directly supported efforts that Y was responsible for—both in terms of energy and in terms of dollars generated for Y as a result of my contributions. In short, Y had been paid in full for benefits that had been extended to me, and there was no "credit" on the books (psychic or otherwise) to be repaid in kind.

c) While Y was asking for a benefit from C that was comparable to what I had earlier received from Y, they were not making any comparable commitment to C about what they would do in exchange. They apparently neglected to share that part of the story, implying that our group owed them a back scratch. Grr.

d) It didn't land well with me that Person Y thought they could get away with this kind of shenanigans—that C and I would not talk and compare notes.

While I don't think Person Y is a bad person, I'm now more guarded about our current and future arrangements. Is this the way to build cooperative culture?

Communication D
I'm busily soliciting benefit auction donations for next week's national cohousing conference, happening June 17-19 in DC. It's a fun thing to do, lining up donations from supporters that simultaneously promote a product or service they're proud of with a cause they believe in.

Two of the folks I approached for support (I sent out about 200 solicitations) were my friends Lou & Joan Burrell at Manzanita Village in Prescott AZ. I first met them seven years ago when their project was stalled out, half-built and mired in internal strife. I worked with them three times during 2004-2005, and Joan sent this note along with their offer for the benefit auction:

Here's the flyer offering two nights in Manzanita Village that you can use for the conference. Hope somebody will choose to come out to visit us! You wouldn't know the place. It has finally become what we've dreamed about for years. Not perfect, certainly, but so much healthier than when you were here to help. All lots are sold. No more LLC Development Committee. 31 of 35 homes built and lived in. We're finally having fun together. One or two units for rent or sale. We look back to your being here as a turning point for our community. If you ever pass this way, please know that you're welcome to stay. We'd love to see you.

Does it get any better than that? I don't think so.

Communication E
Among other things FIC distributes literature through Community Bookshelf, our mail-order bookselling business that's also a regular feature of events we attend (such as next week's cohousing conference). In addition to the handful of things we publish ourselves, we carry other people's work that fits in our niche of cooperative living, right livelihood, sustainability, and group dynamics.

From time to time, people approach us to carry their work and last year I spent considerable time negotiating with a European author (Person E) about what role FIC might play in distributing their work on the theme of sustainability. We eventually came up with a scheme whereby we'd pay to have copies of E's work printed in the US in exchange for exclusive rights to be the distributor. For every copy of E's work sold, we'd pay a 30% royalty.

We would be risking money on the venture, E would not put up any money, we would promote the product in the US market, and E would get a royalty. We would sell the product both retail and wholesale (to other distributors interested in carrying E's work). We signed the deal and things went well for the first few months. Sales were better than anticipated and everyone was happy.

Then E got the idea to offer their work as an electronic, downloadable version. It was easy to understand why this was attractive—not only would this enhance distribution, it would make more money. However, instead of discussing the idea with us, whose market would be affected by this competition, E signed an exclusive deal with someone else and we discovered it by accident. We were not happy.

While E admitted that this was a mistake (and certainly not in the spirit of the deal we'd signed just months before), we've not found it easy to figure out what the best remedy is. E is not willing to consider breaking their agreement with the download people, and we've been scratching our collective heads about how to proceed.

In that context I was dismayed yesterday to get this offer from E, which he characterized as eminently fair to all:
o E will pay us the production costs of all remaining unsold copies of their work (which amounts to about 75% of the production run). This amounts to about $1500.
o In exchange, E's royalties will double from 30% to 60% (looked at from our end, our return per copy would shrink from 70% to 40%).
o FIC can continue selling its remaining stock of E's work under these new terms.
o E would take back the exclusivity rights and then be free to make whatever deals they want with other North American distributors.

Given that gross sales of E's product were greater than $6000 in the last half year, and that loss of exclusivity will severely cripple our future sales, it was hard to understand how E thought this was a fair offer. (E was proposing that $1500 now and a flooded market would be fair compensation for holding exclusive rights with the potential to earn about $15,000 if every copy sold retail.) What was E thinking? I don't know.

What happened to trying to promote a more cooperative future where everyone benefits? Was this simply about how he could make the most money and wanting us out of the way now that we'd demonstrated the commercial viability of E's work in the US market? It's discouraging when things unravel like this—and this was a success story.

I'm still shaking my head, trying to understand what's going on.

• • •

Yesterday reminds me of the joke about the guy who has one foot in a pot of boiling water and the other in a bucket of ice water. While he was doing fine on average, it was not a comfortable experience. I hope your day was somewhat less confusing.

The Essence of Home

For the first time in over four decades, I'm unsure where I'll be living next month.

When I moved in with my wife in November 2013, I left Sandhill (my home since 1974) and thought I'd be with Ma'ikwe for the rest of my life. But it didn't turn out that way. She decided the marriage was no longer working for her and I got my walking papers. 

In the past fortnight I've been thinking a lot about where it makes the most sense to walk to—which has gotten me thinking what "home" means to me as a single man of 65.

To be sure, I have possibilities, including a number of friends who would have me as a neighbor in their community or who might share a house with me. But what do I want? What matters to me most when I contemplate home? Here, in no particular order, is what I've come up with:

1. Near friends and family
As I have friends all over the country, there are many locations that would meet this criteria. And given the amount that I travel, I have reasonable expectations that I can get to those friends I don't live near.

There is a deeper level of this though: how important is it to me to live with close friends, not just near them? What I've discovered, for myself, is that the essential challenge of shared living is that the group is sufficiently: a) clear about common values; b) committed to creating cooperative culture; and c) skilled in communication. I've discovered over the years that housemates or group members don't have to all be best friends to meet these standards. To be sure, I'm not saying that living with close friends would be a drawback; only that it's not essential.

2. Shared living
I travel 40-50% of the time and expect this to continue at least into the near future. Home needs to be a place where I can leave for long stretches and I can come back to. That suggests shared housing—both because it doesn't make sense to pay full boat for housing that is only needed half the time, and because it's much easier to keep day-to-day operations humming along when people cover for each other (you never have to worry about the pipes freezing or the dogs being fed).

Also, with shared living it's easier to plug in usefully for short stretches between trips. While it's hard to take on management responsibilities, there are any number of maintenance tasks and special projects that can be handled by people only in residence part time, and I have a good idea distilled from my prior decades of shared living how to be minimally disruptive and maximally contributive.

When you live alone you have full control, but along with that goes all the domestic chores and all of the cost of maintaining the household. Yuck.

3. Suitable place to read and write
I need a room where I can do these things comfortably in any season and at any time of day or night. I need a comfortable chair, a work surface that is mine to control, a reliable high-speed internet signal, close access to support materials (such as books, files, and implements), and with a modicum of acoustical control (I can tune out conversation or background music in the next room, but fire alarms, children in pain, or headbanger concerts are over the top.)

Quite a bit of my time these days is devoted to writing (and it's only likely to get more that way): blog essays, reports, magazine articles, proposals, correspondence—you name it. Recognizing how central this is to my daily routine, I want to be doing this in a congenial setting.

4. Values alignmentBeyond creature comfort is soul comfort. I want my home and the way I live to be a manifestation of my core values around resource use and cooperative culture. Given that my favorite two-word phrase for what I've been doing with my life is "community builder," it makes a lot of sense for me to live in community, where I get the opportunity to try to walk my talk every day. 

Mind you, some days I'm more successful in achieving that goal than others, yet there's high resonance for me with making the attempt. It's important to me, for example, that I try to consciously live a life that is within the means of anyone else to replicate, if they desire it. It's hard to picture satisfying that test in any way excepting through community.

5. Aging in place
While my health is generally pretty good (despite my slow recovery from lower back strain last fall) it's prudent to think about my home being a place where people support each other through the trials of health challenges. While this can touch a person at any age, we expect to face more health issues as we age.

While my physical capacities are unquestioningly in decline, I am not decrepit and am still highly productive. I also possess a wealth of practical skills that I can make available to guide or teach others even when I am no longer able to do a thing myself.

Though I have been purposefully divesting myself of some significant responsibilities over the last decade (it's time to give others a turn behind the wheel, and it affords me more time for reading and writing), I am still enthusiastic about my work as a process trainer and consultant. Fortunately, this work also happens to be the most remunerative thing that I do and what I believe to be my best avenue for social change work—my efforts to make the world a better place.

Thus, immediately in front of me I have decent prospects for generating more income than I consume. Though this won't last indefinitely, at least I won't be approaching a group living situation with hat in hand.

6. Familiarity
I was born in the Midwest and (excepting two years after college when I lived in DC as a junior bureaucrat for the US Dept of Transportation) I've always lived in the Midwest. It is a climate and culture I know and therefore feels like home to me. 

I know the rhythms of the seasons and the unpretentiousness of the people. I know the trees; I know the lay of the land; I know when flowers bloom and when vegetables are ripe. I know how to layer my clothing for comfort when splitting wood amidst the gusting North Wind in January, and how to function in the humidity of August when canning tomatoes by the bucketload.

Sure, I could learn a new culture. But I'd rather not.

Musings About Economics

I was surprised to discover that in the last decade economics has become increasingly interesting to me as a social change agent.

My surprise is not so much that economics should have a seat at the table when discussing the elements of sustainable culture—that made eminent sense to me right away. The shock is that I might be sitting at the table, helping to articulate the economic elements of the better world we're all aspiring to manifest. I never saw it coming. 

Today's offering is a collection of 10 interestingly-shaped pieces of the economic puzzle. While I cannot promise that they can be assembled into a compete picture they suggest a different relationship to economics. See what you think.

1. The Big Canvas
For more than half my life I've identified cooperative culture as my lode star. As someone who wants to make a positive difference in the world, I screen all of my work through the fundamental question, Is this in service to building a more cooperative world? Mostly I've devoted myself to pursuing this through promoting and understanding community, and how individuals relate to it.

That's a plenty large enough field to play in, and there's no danger of running out of meaningful work. For decades it was compelling to focus strictly on how people functioned in a community context. Where did they fall into the ditch, what skills were essential to getting out of the ditch, how to work conflict constructively, how to balance "I" and "we," how to work non-rationally—stuff like that was my milieu and the bulk of my consulting work has fallen within those lines of inquiry. I've even been around long enough to help shape what the questions are.

Gradually, however, I became aware of larger questions. In particular, what is right relationship between social interactions (the heart of community) and resource consumption (ecology) and how we make a living (economics)? What does an integrated package of sustainability look like?

As I became aware of the three-legged stool of sustainability—ecological social, and economic—it was immediately apparent that all three legs were not equally robust. The ecological thrust has been most prominent (the first Earth Day was 46 years ago, and I can even recall a conversation with my high school science teacher in the late '60s about the pros and cons of a new text book that approached biology through an ecological overview—a radical concept at the time). For many today, sustainability is tantamount to ecology. The first and only images they hold are of solar panels, spotted owls, and recycling barrels.

In recent decades though, there has been quite a bit of progress made in bringing into wider awareness my leg of the stool: social sustainability. I've invested heavily in understanding the nuts and bolts of cooperation. I've learned how it breaks down and how it can be salvaged or repaired. I've traveled all across the continent offering everything from workshops in cooperative theory to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Satisfyingly, over the span of my professional lifetime I've witnessed a decided uptick in awareness of social sustainability.

That brings us to the poor stepchild that is the third leg: economics. It's the one that's least written about and least well understood. In contemplating this, I believe a huge factor is that the progressive elements most inspired by a sustainable future have a marked tendency to suffer from arrested development. In particular, they have not gotten past the biblical admonition that "money is the root of all evil."

Sustainable economics necessarily requires one to get comfortable with the concept of fair exchange, but it's damn hard to navigate that territory if you find money—the primary medium of exchange—to be inherently grubby and soul crushing. To be clear, I'm not offering paeans to money; I'm saying it is what we make of it, and it's not going to work if all economic exchange is smeared with the oleaginous face cream of prostitution and exploitation.

2. The Big Canvass
Terry O'Keefe and I are going to be delivering a workshop at next May's National Cohousing Conference (May 19-21 in Nashville TN) entitled "Community as Economic Engine." In preparation for it we're working with the Coho Association of the US on an economic survey. 

We'll be finding out how many communities currently partner with their members to enhance their economic situation. Overwhelmingly, non-income-sharing groups (about 90% of the total) wash their hands when it comes to helping members meet their economic nut. Terry and I think they can—and should—do better. In addition to banging the drum, we'll roll up our sleeves and suggest ways to do it.

3. Carrier as Belwether
Last week President-elect Trump did some serious jawboning with Carrier, the huge HVAC company in Indiana. They were poised to close down gas furnace manufacturing operations in Indianapolis and move nearly 1000 jobs to Monterrey, Mexico, where Carrier could pay workers $3/hour instead of $25/hour—realizing a neat $65 million in annual savings. It would have been a no brainer except for the fact that Trump had made a big deal out how he was going to put a stop to this very thing—outsourcing US jobs to foreign countries.

Given that Indiana is a very red state (and the home of Vice President-elect Pence), Carrier's proposed move would have left a very red President-elect (take your pick between embarrassed or angry, though the latter seems easier to access from what I've seen).

In the end, Trump succeeded in getting Carrier to rescind their move. But what really happened? No new jobs were created; rather, Indiana Governor Pence saved jobs (in his state) by offering Carrier unspecified "major concessions" that compensated them enough to forego their putative labor savings. And it does not take an MBA from Wharton to connect the dots between this deal and the sensitivity of United Technologies (Carrier's parent company) to retaining its favorable position at the trough regarding lucrative contracts for jet engines and other defense-related equipment.

Because Carrier has annual gross profits of $4 billion, the Mexico move only represented a gain of 1.6%, which they were willing to put on the table in exchange for concessions and public relations credit (it's interesting to speculate on what value Carrier assigns to not being in Trump's cross hairs).

When the smoke clears what have we got? We can be sure that Carrier protected its primary mission: making money for its shareholders. And Trump came through on a campaign promise to stop outsourcing. But what does protectivism have to do with "making America great again"? Are manufacturing start-ups now more likely to site plants in Indiana than Mexico? I don't think so. How long will it be before another major company gets the bright idea to announce plans to move operations out of country, trolling for another round of "major concessions" because Trump needs to avoid the embarrassment of failing to keep an uneconomic campaign promise?

Trump held up the hands of time for 1000 jobs in America's heartland, but it is hardly a blueprint for a robust economy. Progressives need to stop ceding economic territory to an energetic vampire like Trump.

4. Intersection of Economic and Social
In our efforts to articulate a better world (not just complain about the injustices of the one we've got) little attention has been focused on how the social and economic can, and should, be allies. Fortunately, there is considerable overlap between the two. The skills needed to resolve differences creatively in consensus are essentially the same ones needed to sort out thorny issues in economic diversity.

We need to be doing a better job of integrating the various parts of our lives into a cohesive whole, not straining the seams. Suppose you have a dream job in the city that pays top dollar, coupled with an idyllic house in the burbs with a great school for your kids—but there's just one problem: these two gems are interconnected by a brutal, bumper-to-bumper 90-minute commute twice a day, five days a week. How integrated is that (and how's your blood pressure these days)?

5. Intersection of Work and Value
When people complain about their struggles to find work, I've learned that what they really mean is their struggles to find good work. And "good," I've learned, distills down to values match. Though salary, flex-time, security, benefits, and a boss who respects you all come into the conversation, the bottom line is whether the inherent nature of the work—the actual good or service produced—is consonant with what you value in life. 

Thus, the fundamental economic challenge can be boiled down to this: how can I be paid a decent wage for doing work that I believe in? Once you understand this, life becomes simpler. Yes, it's more difficult if you are risk averse and non-entrepreneurial (because it can be too scary to try living on less income in order to have a better values match, and there are fewer options if you have to depend on others to create a job that will work for you) but everyone has choices.

We are not raised to think this way. For that matter, we are not raised to contemplate what are values are, much less how to assess job opportunities for a match with them. Instead, we are taught to prioritize income and marketable skills, and then use the money to buy what we want. The model we are offered is that if each person maximizes their potential (makes as much money as possible) all boats will rise on the flood. But that's way too simplistic. Income in a vacuum is too often vacuous (read spirit killing, which can be very expensive).

To be fair, jobs are available in a spectrum; not just sorted into categories of good and evil. And there can be a world of difference between jobs that are value-neutral (perhaps domestic cleaning) and those that are value-negative (say, marketing inferior products). The power in this analysis is appreciating the full value of a good match—where work is life affirming, rather than a necessary evil that allows you to pay the rent and buy groceries. Once you taste work that is value-aligned it spoils you for settling again for something less. When your heart is in it, it doesn't feel like "work." Your battery doesn't drain as fast. You recover more quickly and you're a joy to be around. It's addictive (in a good way).

6. Disassociation of Money from Security
One of the biggest lessons I learned from community living was how to get a better handle on the concept of security. As a young adult I didn't think much about it. I focused more on opportunity and how to be a positive influence in the world. In an effort to recapitulate the combination of stimulation and support that I experienced in dormitory living as an undergraduate (at Carleton College, 1967-71), I stumbled onto community living at age 24 and never looked back.

When, through a combination of intimate misadventures, I would up leaving intentional community 40 years later, I looked up and discovered that a lifetime of being economically generative had left me with very little money in the bank. I had been living in income-sharing situations since 1974 and had not been accumulating anything in my name. While I was safely under the economic umbrella of partnerships (first my intentional community, Sandhill Farm, and later my marriage) I lost that protection when those associations ended.

My initial response was to simply go out and make more money. While that started off well, my vulnerability caught up with me when I got sick last winter and discovered I had cancer. While my bank account was starting to swell, I hadn't gotten very far before work was derailed and I was facing horrific medical bills—a complete financial reversal. Fortunately I was already on Medicare and had purchased a strong supplemental policy that provided a substantial cushion. 

For all of that however, I was still financially exposed and completely without the protection of my prior partnerships. As someone who had been active in the Communities Movement, I had been writing and presenting for years about the advantages of group living, especially if you redefined security in terms of relationships rather than bank accounts. Well, my cancer inadvertently afforded me the occasion to field test that theory.

Perhaps the most humbling experience of my life was the unabashed outpouring of love and support I received once word got out about my battle with cancer. I was completely bathed in caring energy—even from people I didn't know but whose lives had been touched by a workshop I once gave. This, I came to appreciate at a visceral level, was what it meant to redefine security in terms of relationships. No amount of money in the bank could substitute for what that meant to me, or the role it played in my being able to push the cancer into remission. It has been a team effort.

The cherry on top was that when I put out a discrete call for help with medical bills (through this blog last July), 30 friends responded and the gap was closed. Yes, money made a difference. But that was the medium; friends and relationships were the foundation.

If you are able to make this transition, it is incredibly freeing when it comes to how you budget. You need less income when you are not salting it away against a rainy day. If you can afford to work for less it widens the horizon in your search for work with an excellent values match. Depending on your circumstances you can even consider volunteer work. This is a quality of life issue, where bedrock is happiness.

7. Marriage of Entrepreneur and Non-entrepreneur
Although it took me about three decades to see this, it's useful to absorb the following reality about a typical cooperative group: in almost all cases there will be a significant minority of members who identify as entrepreneurial, and a clear majority who identify as not. This is an important insight because the profiles of these two groups don't align easily.

Entrepreneurs are risk tolerant and tend to not depend on the approbation of others to feel good about themselves. They are comfortable in their own company and tend to prefer low structure (read minimal red tape).

The majority are the reverse, and one of the main challenges  achieving group health is figuring out how these two disparate groups can play well with one another. It can be a bitch.

To add to the joy, community founders, almost by definition, tend to be entrepreneurial as pioneers. It takes a certain kind of craziness and audacity to envision a successful intentional community—much less attempt one—and no small amount of chutzpah to pull it off. That said, once a community is established it depends on a steady diet of settlers joining the experiment in order to sustain it, and settler qualities tend to be non-entrepreneurial. Talk about fun. (Did anyone promise that community was easy?)

Why hasn't more attention been given to this? Both are always going to exist and we need models for how they can be allies instead of irritants.

8. Integration of Entrepreneur and Community
Another angle on this same dynamic has to do with how the group relates to its risk-takers. Ironically, even though intentional communities are radical social experiments, they tend to be obsessed with their own stability, which leads to the development of a generally conservative atmosphere—not so much regarding politics as internal experimentation.

The upshot of this is that groups tend to view their entrepreneurs with a jaundiced eye (while we love them as our very own, we wish they wouldn't come up with so many boat-rocking ideas). Precious few communities have directly addressed this issue—perhaps because they don't understand that it's happening; perhaps because they're afraid it will lead to a witch hunt. 

As we know, however, that we resist persists. By failing to tackle the issue of risk management head on, the result is that it's decided in the trenches. Entrepreneurs adapt by either conducting end runs (under the theory that it's easier to get forgiven than to get permission) or by taking their energy elsewhere.

9. Difference Between a Good Idea and a Good Business
A lot of folks fail to understand that having good product sense is not the same as having good business sense. While having a superior product or service is a definite advantage, it doesn't guarantee black ink at the end of the year. The business world is full of cautionary tales about how the better product lost because it was outmarketed (think Beta versus VHS; or FireWire versus USB). 

To what extent are cooperative groups helping their members with business advice? Answer: not nearly enough. This problem needs to be worked from both ends. Entrepreneurs need to swallow their pride and ask for help (what do you mean it doesn't count if you get assistance?); cooperative groups need to get over thinking that helping to develop values-based business plans as contamination with filthy lucre (who, after all, is pure in this vale of tears?). The point of this is to help everyone. Not only will the entrepreneurs be rewarded, but as their businesses succeed they'll be better able to employ non-entrepreneurs, who want good jobs.

10. Local Answers not Federal
Circling back to my third point about Carrier, I believe that economics—just like politics—start at home; not with government subsidies. While markets can be as wide as make sense (and with today's information-based products that can be as far as broadband ethernet can reach, which is just about everywhere), the foundation of right exchange is local. Instead of doing everything myself (or doing without), I trade to you what I'm good at or have in surplus and get in exchange something that you're better at than I or can afford to share. If we both give good value we're in integrity and both of our lives have been enhanced. Everyone sleeps well at night. It's that simple.

Small towns die when they lose their economic base. When local stores are franchises and not locally owned (think Walmart), profits are siphoned off to out-of-town shareholders and wages drop to legal minimums. People are no longer working for Uncle Fred, Grandma Gutierrez, or Ole Johansson—all of whom care about whether your daughter is sick or your dog just had triplets; they're working for Lord Farquaad or his moral equivalent. The good news is that this trend can be reversed. Buy locally. Give a damn.

If the viability of our businesses was rooted in our home communities—instead of leveraged off of investment tax credits and accelerated depreciation allowances—we'd be inflation proof and wouldn't give a hoot what the wage rate was in Guadalajara.

It's something to think about.

Giving Thanks

I know that Thanksgiving is tomorrow, but I'm going to start early. 

I'm chugging inbound on the eastbound Southwest Chief, having boarded in the wee hours of Tuesday in Kingman AZ. I was awakened in the pre-dawn of eastern KS this morning as they stuffed the empty seats with heading-home-for-the-holidays passengers at Topeka and Lawrence. That means I have four hours until I'll be collected at the Art Deco Amtrak depot in La Plata MO—just enough time to jot down (well, peck down) all that I'm thankful for in the final hours of my four-week road trip.

—Home 
I'm thankful for the home that I am returning to. On a basic level, homelessness is a serious societal ill, symptomatic of the inevitable consequences of our winners-and-losers competitive culture. As a road warrior who travels mainly by train, I get to see more than my share of the not-so-pretty sides of cities and the people for whom the American dream has become a nightmare. I was raised with plenty of privilege and advantage and I've been able to parlay those into a life that works pretty well.

On a deeper level, home is more than just a roof over my head: a) it's a place on Earth where I have sunk deep roots, and where I have found a strong sense of Spirit, even though I didn't know I was looking for it; b) it's a community where I have established deep personal connections with fellow travelers in the social change business; and c) it's served as a living foundation from which I operate as a cooperative process consultant—my work is grounded in the reality of my life experience much more than any books I've read or workshops I've attended.

In many ways, connection to place has crept up on me. It was not the way I was raised, and I stumbled upon its preciousness as the years went by and I accreted in my psyche the natural rhythms of my community's farm in northeast Missouri as season followed season, year after year. This is a profound gift that I discovered in spite of my slash and burn cultural conditioning.

—Wife
I'm thankful for my intimate partner, who loves me profoundly and pushes us to be all that we can be—on stage as public figures, on the couch, at the stove, and in the bedroom. (There's a reason that the kitchen sink is a metaphor for everything—and the goddess only knows we've spent our share of time there, talking about how to build it, how to get water to it, and how frequently to clean the dishes. There's an amazing amount of domestic dynamics that revolve around the kitchen sink.) 

We have been a couple for eight years now, and we've worked our love harder in our eighth year than in any of the previous seven. For one thing, most of this past year we've been doing couples counseling, getting help looking at the parts we've rather not see. I'm telling you, a good marriage (and why settle for anything less?) is not for the feint of heart, and our relationship is a work in progress if there ever was one. All together, I feel blessed and I return home eager to begin our grand experiment in maintaining a single household for the first time.

—Paid Work That Aligns with My Values
I'm thankful for my parents who instilled in me a strong sense of self—as a person who could be all that he could be. While my choices confused my mother and confounded my father (who was hoping he was raising a midshipman of industry who would grow up to be a captain), I've found my place in a life centered around community with a minimal amount of wandering in the wilderness. It was from my upbringing that I learned to be risk tolerant, from which I derived the courage to insist that I make a living from activities that embodied my values and which satisfied my soul, not just my wallet.

Whenever I encounter people who are weary of their jobs, or peers who turn longingly toward retirement, I realize how fortunate I have been. I still get up each day looking forward to speaking at the next conference, facilitating the next thorny meeting, or crafting the next report. People pay me to do what I love and are happy with the bargain. Is that a good life, or what?

—Service Work That Aligns with My Growth Path
I'm thankful for my work in a second way also. More than being consonant with my values, my work is also the way I try to be a social change agent. Rather than heart work that I do on the side as a volunteer, as a community builder (though I know my way around a hammer and trowel, I mean this more in the sense of social sustainability than bricks and mortar) I've made it my business to place the creation of cooperative culture at the very center of my life. And the way I know that's a good choice for me is that my work regularly results in my getting up close and personal with my blind spots and human frailties—often in a spectacularly public way! I figure that when your service path coincides with your growth path it's a cosmic affirmation.

—Living in Interesting Times
I'm thankful for all the amazing opportunities there exist for doing good in the world at this time of flux. While today's global reality (peak oil, climate change, population pressures on water supplies, economic instability) translates into a general malaise of uncertainty and anxiety—and that's no fun, especially for those craving stability—it also creates openings for reexamination and experimentation where there were few before. We live in a time that's rife with possibilities. Though all seeds won't sprout and some fields will be overtaken by weeds, I find it an exhilarating time in which to be cultivating new culture.

—Friends
I'm thankful for the amazing wealth of people who know and care about me, and who open up their hearts for me to be there for them in return. As John Donne succinctly pointed out four centuries ago, no man is an island, and I am buoyed by the archipelago of my myriad close relationships. This was poignantly brought home to me in July when Ma'ikwe was ready to throw in the towel on our marriage, and I struggled to come to grips with what my life would be like with the center blown out of it. Slowly, I realized that I would be fine. While my relationship with Ma'ikwe remains precious to me, I had a good life before her and all of the elements of that would remain if she left. I remembered that I am not an island and that even in emotional free fall I could expect my friends to be there to help break my fall.

—Grown Children
I'm thankful for my two adult children, Ceilee and Jo, who both take responsibility for their own happiness and for their commitments. They know how to work hard, and how to take into account how their behavior affects those around them. Most of all, I'm thankful that we love each other, that we freely acknowledge that love, that we make time for one another, and that we enjoy each other's company. No sooner does one visit end than I am looking forward to the next.

—Family
I'm thankful for my four siblings, all of whom cultivate the scared garden of familial relations. Though we don't see each other often, we are there at times of need and celebration. Two months ago I visited my youngest sister in Toronto. Two months from now I'll see my brother in Fairhope AL. Blood ties are the long waves of relationship, where the currents are deepest and steadiest. This is not so much about a mind meld or an alignment of values. Rather, it's about a common history and the shared water of our earliest memories. It's recognizing and honoring bonds that is operates on a visceral level. I am thankful that we all know that.

—Wholesome Food
I'm thankful for living in a community that has a core commitment to growing and processing its own food. It's not possible to eat any better than we do. Though I did not move to community because of food, it turns out that I love working with food and didn't know it! I am grateful that my community has a spiritual connection to raising and consuming organic food. It is integral to our symbiotic connection to our land, which we interact with on a daily basis. We feed our land and it feeds us, body and soul.

—Health
I'm thankful for a body and mind that still work pretty good at 64—which is a good thing given all that I ask of them. The older I get, the more I've lost friends and acquaintances who have had their health (or luck) run out. Increasingly, these people are younger than me and I have occasion to be thankful for the good cards I have been dealt. It is up to me to honor that gift by playing them well.

—Books
I'm thankful for being able to read and for the existence of more good pieces of writing than I will ever be able to get to in one lifetime. I'll never run out of good material to read, and I still buy books faster than I read them. Some of this is the chance to be exposed to new thinking. Some is enjoyment of a well-crafted story. Some is appreciation of word crafting (which is not the same thing as a good plot—J K Rowling is a terrific story teller, but a wooden wordsmith; Charles Dickens was superb at both; Ambrose Bierce was so trenchant and clever that he could make a dictionary good reading).

—Blogging
I'm thankful for the excuse to pause every three days and reflect on what's happening around me, and for the chance to practice my craft as a writer (striving ever to be more like Bierce, though perhaps less acerbic). I have tried at various times in my life to maintain a journal, but was never able to manifest sufficient discipline until I began this blog six years ago. While I have sometimes been successful with an epistolary approximation (when investing in a particular relationship at a distance), these would invariably peter out after some months.

In this format I have chanced upon just the right mix of public service and private inquiry to sustain my interest. Although my primary inspiration for starting this blog was public service, it's proven to be such a personal benefit that I would probably continue it even if no one read it—it's been that much fun and helpful in clarifying my thinking. Today, if someone casually asks how I've been, I can generally swamp their boat by simply giving them the URL to this blog.

—Coffee
Finally, I'm thankful for my favorite way to start the day (other than sex). I prefer French roast, brewed strong enough to put hair on your forehead, balanced with a generous glug of half and half, which neutralizes the acid while preserving the essential bitterness that I crave. It's my only non-negotiable when clients hire me to work with their group.

Where there is life there is coffee
Where there is coffee there is life
We all worship the brown bean
Body of the God Caffeine

Bored with Consensus

I was recently selected to join a nonprofit board and attended my first meeting via teleconference. Although the bylaws stiplated that decisions would be made by consensus (I'd done my reading), the meeting was full of calls for votes, motions, and seconds. Uh oh. Had I wandered into the wrong meeting? Unfortunately, I hadn't.

I tolerated the ghost of Roberts Rules for about 30 minutes until I couldn't stand it any more and spoke up. There was a certain amount of awkwardness and mea culpas until I realized that none of the 10 or so people on the call had a clue how consensus worked.

In fact, one board member grew impatient with my digression, because "how we function" wasn't on the agenda. Oh boy. Of course it wasn't on the agenda: no one else was aware that there was a problem. I wondered briefly if that was that why I had been asked to be on the board, but then I realized that they wouldn't have been looking for something that they didn't know was missing. In any event, now they have me, and it looks like board training in consensus is in our future (or it better be).

It's interesting to me that this board has been around for decades and the decision to operate by consensus goes back to the beginning. Even though the people who put that in place are long gone, how did practice drift so far from intent? There must have been a lot of meetings where people who knew better simply let consensus slide. How else could the board arrive at the state where no one understood what it meant (it's not as if all the board member were band new)? 

Who knows, maybe they were bored with explaining it. Or perhaps they relied on that old broken-down standby: passing along group culture by osmosis. ("Just watch; you'll figure it out.")

While there are other choices in decision-making and group process that could be made—including majority rule and Roberts Rules of Order—I like that the bylaws stipulate consensus. However, as someone who has been using it for 40 years and teaching it for 28, I think that consensus will not be a happy choice unless it's accompanied by some basic commitments, all of which appear to be absent in the leaky boat I just boarded.

1.  Train people in its use
In addition to the obvious—training new people—it's likely not a bad idea for the veterans as well (think of it as continuing education). Among the key points to be covered is making sure that everyone groks the fundamental concept that you need to be making a shift from competitive culture to cooperative culture (if you want consensus to thrive), and that culture change is not easy. People need to be drilled in this at the outset, not in mid-struggle.

2.  Define the process
As there is not a single definition of consensus, you will need to make clear how you'll practice it. This includes what constitutes the legitimate grounds for a block and the process by which you'll test for legitimacy. Does one block stop a proposal, or will there be provisions for a super-majority override? How will delegation work? How will meetings be run (do you default to the board president or the executive director doing double duty as convener—bad idea—or do you choose a neutral facilitator)?

3.  Set standards for minutes
I was appalled that the board minutes were nothing more than a list of topics and decisions. There was no sense of the discussion., which meant that they were practically worthless for two of the main reasons that minutes exist:

a) To provide a collective memory of how the decisions were reached. This is important when someone comes along later and wants to revisit a topic. In my book, that should only be allowed if something significant has changed (otherwise why re-plow old ground?) But you can't make that assessment if there's no record of what was taken into account.

b) Good minutes allow the people who missed the meeting to catch up. That includes current members who were sick, on vacation, or had a schedule conflict, as well as future board members trying to inform themselves on the background of issues. It's trivial knowing that the topic was last discussed in July, 2011, if the minutes don't tell you what was said.

4. Work with energy as well as content
In a previous call with the executive director and board president to orient new board members, I had suggested that the board spend time sorting out its mission and priorities (before making decisions on budget proposals). When this was supported it led to the idea of a board retreat which would include strategic planning. When someone (not me) suggested that we hire an outside facilitator for that, I was all in favor. However, when I made a point of selecting a facilitator who has skill in working with energy, not just content, there was a long pause. I'm not sure anyone had a clue what I was talking about.

When cooperative groups make the commitment to work at a deep level (which many do not) and embrace the heart of consensus, this absolutely brings you into the territory of energy. Thus, it's not enough to know someone's position or viewpoints on an issue; you need to know what it means to them and why it matters. You need to know how it touches their heart or soul—because that's where the magic happens. 

If you are simply trying to find the middle ground between positions, you're looking for compromise (kissing your sister). If, however, you're trying to find a solution that honors the core interests of everyone, that weaves together their central values and enthusiasm, then we're talking about a family reunion where everyone is out on the dance floor.

There are professional facilitators who are quite adept at working content, yet essentially tone deaf when it comes to hearing energy. I know because I've met a number of them, and it's painful to watch them struggle in community groups where their mainstream expertise is not enough.

It will be interesting to see what skills our outside facilitator brings to our board retreat. I don't expect to be bored.

Working Outliers, Part IV

This is the concluding installment of a four-part series on outliers started Aug 25.

All cooperative groups struggle with how to work constructively with members who position themselves on the outer edge, and I want to explore some of the nuances that come into play with this dynamic. In groups that make decisions by majority rule outlier dynamics are often sidestepped simply through the convenience of voting, in consensus-based groups however, the culture is obliged to work with all elements, and that means the edges as well as the center.

In this series I've examined outlier dynamics in the following sequence:

I. Considered as a Singular Occurrence
II. Considered as a Pattern Based on Temperament or Style
III. Considered as a Pattern Based on Values
IV. Considered as a Strategy

• • •

Considered as a Strategy

This is the dynamic where a person consciously chooses to participate as an outlier—someone with a position on the outer range of the group's spectrum of views on a topic—because they believe it will gain them leverage in steering the group toward what they want. That is, they will purposefully present their views more extremely, either in style or substance, than they would in private, as part of a strategy to maneuver the group to the position they actually favor.

Implied is the intent to deceive or misrepresent, for the purpose of manipulation. As you might imagine, it can get nasty if other group members believe that a person is engaging in this kind of Machiavellian behavior, as it undercuts the bedrock premise that cooperative group decision making works best when everyone contributes what's true for them and then works creatively to find the best fit from all the input. If someone is intentionally distorting their truth to gain strategic advantage this is viewed as a perversion.

Caution: While it's not difficult to define this phenomenon, it's not at all easy to tell if it's occurring. Absent an outright admission of guilt, it can be nearly impossible to prove bad intent, or to distinguish between honest outlier behaviors and dramatized ones.

—How it looks to the individual
It's easy to see how a person could learn subconsciously to be an outlier because it's often an effective strategy to help get what you want. (In a recent visit to my son's family, I had plenty of opportunity to witness the limit testing tactics of my three-year-old granddaughter, Taivyn. While I think Taivyn's parents, Ceilee and Tosca, are handling this pretty well, it's not easy to be consistently patient and loving in the presence of this kind steady pressure, and thus, some kids learn that being an outlier can bear dividends. )

Many of us learn as children that it's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. If so, it can be hard as an adult to stop squeaking if that has proven to be helpful all a person's life.

In a more cold-blooded analysis, the outlier may be perfectly aware that they're exaggerating their viewpoint, and yet have no trouble sleeping at night. Perhaps they think everyone exaggerates and they're merely doing what everyone else does; perhaps they're addicted to the attention (and even irritation is better than being ignored); perhaps they feel justified in their practice because it's a lesson learned early in "how the world works," and only the naive and gullible show all their cards right away—the fact that others aren't politically savvy doesn't mean they should be artless as well.

—How it looks to the group
While the wide range of possible pathways to becoming a patterned outlier argues for extending to them the benefit of the doubt, the group may not be feeling that gracious if folks are in a state of frustration over how much effort is being exerted to labor with the same person over and over. If it's starting to feel like the tail is wagging the dog, resentment may accumulate.

A lot depends on both frequency (how often a person is an outlier) and stridency (how much the outlier fails to demonstrate an ability to hear and work well with the input of others). The less the outlier displays either of these tendencies, the likelier it is that they'll be worked with openly and fairly by the group.

What to do?
Rather than encouraging groups to get in the habit of pausing to judge whether patterned outliers are sincere in their statements (and not overamping for effect), I have a different suggestion. If someone proves themselves to be a regular squeaky wheel, I suggest putting them on a limited-grease diet—think of it as preventative medicine, to keep the outlier from becoming a fat cat who has more power over the group than is healthy.

Note first that I didn't say a no-grease diet. I believe it will work better if the group starts by assuming good intent on the part of the outlier and treating their views with respect (so long as they're rooted in group values and not solely in personal preferences). That said, I think it's reasonable to ask all parties to learn from what occurred and to make a sincere effort to not recapitulate the same polarized dynamic the next time an issue takes the group across the same trigger point.

—What this means for the individual
If the outlier pattern is based on temperament or style, I'm asking the person to take in how challenging it is for the group to labor with it. Typically, if a group gets to a solid, balanced conclusion when working with outlier behavior, it's in spite of the dynamics, not because of them. It will be in the individual's best interest to do what they can to adapt their behavior to what is easier for the group to handle. Not only will this be less triggering for others, but the group will be impressed that you're trying to be cognizant of what works well for others, which will enhance the outlier's social capital (something that is likely to be in short supply).

If the outlier pattern is based on values, I'm asking the person to digest how the group has been able to fully hear their interpretation and take it into account in figuring out how to sensitively handle the issue. I'm hoping that this digestion can lead to the outlier being more trusting of the group the next time this value comes into play, so that the whole conversation about the spectrum of views in conjunction with this value will not need to be replayed.

Let me give an example of what I mean. Suppose in the previous year the group considered a proposal to install air conditioning in the common house, and in the discussion it came out that most people thought it was a good idea (because it might significantly enhance the summertime usability of a valuable common asset), but one member was appalled that it was even being considered because, for them, it represented moving in the direction of bourgeois luxury and away from dedication to being a model of environmental sustainability. Suppose further that after unpacking the outlier's deep feelings about being environmentally vigilant, the group was ultimately able to come to an agreement to invest in passive cooling retrofitting of the common house employing materials with a minimal carbon footprint. While it took a while to work through all that, in the end everyone felt good about the outcome and there were excellent prospects for a cooler common house in July.

Now suppose there's a proposal for the group to increase it's fleet of cars from two to three, so that people won't have to scramble so much to get their transportation needs met.

There is a world of difference between these two potential initial responses from the person who was the outlier in the air conditioning conversation:

Option A: "This request to buy an additional car makes my soul shrivel. It says in our bylaws that we're committed to being environmentally responsible and there is no greater evil in contemporary society than our obscene dependence on gas-powered automobiles. We're selling out and I'm embarrassed to be part of a group that could bring this proposal forward!"

Option B: "As you might imagine, this request to buy an additional group car triggers my deep concerns about the environment, and I'm not having a good reaction. That said, I'm also remembering how well the group held me last year when we worked through the common house air conditioning issue, and I'm holding onto the hope that a similar thing will be possible now."

Note that I'm not asking the outlier to change their values; I'm asking the outlier to change how they express them, building on past successes in getting to a balanced place when this value is in play.

If the outlier pattern is a strategy, I'm asking the person to do some personal work. I want them to consider how their choice to be cagey is fundamentally at odds with the culture of cooperation that the group is (hopefully) trying to create. Cooperation is based on transparency, compassion, and authenticity. Offering an overstated opening statement to gain a tactical advantage for one's position flies in the face of all three of these principles. While the group may nonetheless be able to successfully navigate a false start, it's a complication and doesn't help the group do its best work.

While the outlier may be convinced that this strategy improves the chances that their preferred outcome will prevail, it does so at the expense of group trust and cohesion, and I'm asking the person to take in how costly that is to relationships as well as to group functionality.

—What this means for the group
If the outlier pattern is based on temperament or style, the group might usefully examine what it can do to be less reactive to bluster, tears, hand waving, or ethnic speech patterns. Rather than punishing the outlier for not being "normal," the group can work on stretching to embrace a wider range of "acceptable."

If the outlier pattern is based on values, the group can learn (as well as the individual) from a thorough examination of the range of interpretations about a particular value. The group can anticipate that the same range of interpretations will surface again the next time that value is evoked. Rather than wait to see what the outlier does with it this time (see Options A & B above), the group can acknowledge at the outset that this range of interpretations will be a factor that the group will need to balance. This can bypass all kinds of drama that will only be a repeat performance and not particularly illuminating.

If the group suspects the outlier pattern is a strategy, I suggest taking the high road and steering clear of condemnation and outrage. I think it will be more productive if you focus mainly on how you're trying to create cooperative culture and it isn't clear to the group how the outlier is on board with the program. While the outlier has the right to be heard, that's coupled with the responsibility to work hard to hear and work constructively with the input of others, and you're not seeing how they're doing the latter while insisting on the former.

• • •

This wraps up my blog series on outliers. In addition to laying out the various ways this dynamic can present, I've tried to offer guidance on how to work with the dynamic constructively in the moment—both from the perspective of the outlier and that of the group—and at the same time set the table for everyone taking what they've learned from the current experience to make future outlier dynamics easier to navigate.

While there will always be outliers, groups have choices about how well they understand what's happening and how much they suffer from the tensions associated with the expression of outlier views, and the fatigue associated with being forced to watch reruns.

Economic Leverage in Hard Times: Part 2—Food

This is the second installment of my series on how everyone can get more of the life they want while at the same time spending less money to make it happen. My motivation is that most folks today need to be more careful about their economic choices, and I have some good news. Through what's been learned about cooperative sharing in community, it''ll be possible for most of us to continue to enhance the quality of our life while at the same time cutting back on cash outlays. To be sure, my suggestions will require some lifestyle changes. Yet what I'm offering is meant to be widely accessible, and does not involve a change in personality or altering one's core values. In Part 1 (posted Feb 5) I focused on Housing. Today I'll tackle Food.

• • •

The "typical" American family spends about 14% of its budget on Food (which includes eating out). Here are a half dozen suggestions for how to realize some substantial savings:

1. Grow a Garden
While not everyone is drawn to the mysticism of fingernails made dirty by grubbing around in your own backyard, gardening offers a plethora of potential:

a) Food you grow is much cheaper than food you buy.

b) Food you grow is much fresher (and tastier) than food you buy (though if you get from a local growers, this difference may be minor). I never knew how delicious a lima bean could be until we grew our own and ate them fresh. And today (after living in a Missouri community for 35 years which has always gardened) I refuse to eat tomatoes that have been grown in Mexico or California and taste like cardboard. Puh-lease.

c) To the extent that you turn your yard into garden, there will be less yard work (though, of course, there will now be "garden work" instead).

d) You don't have to do this alone (or as a single family unit); you can participate in (or organize) a community or neighborhood garden (Hint: it's a terrific use of vacant lots and cities will often bless this: neighborhood gardens cut down on crime, reduce litter, and improve civic pride.). In addition to the social benefits, you can divvy up who grows what, specializing in the crops you do best or enjoy most; and it's possible to take turns watering, or watching crops for each other when people are away.

e) Think about the aphorism: You are what you eat. Wouldn't you rather have personal knowledge about the raw materials you are using to build and maintain your health and very being?

f) Gardening can provide relatively low-stress physical exercise and can be a productive and satisfying way to direct some of the extra time you have if you experience a drop in available paid work. (As they say in the current Radio Shack commercials, "Don't just buy stuff; do stuff!")

2. Eating in Season
Food is cheaper when it's in season (not to mention more nutritious and delicious). Somehow, our culture has gotten used to expecting fresh tomatoes and and little baskets of raspberries to be available all year round. While choice is a good thing, buying these products fresh in February is ridiculous. In MIssouri, those tomatoes have been picked green and were hauled at least 2000 miles to get to a store near us (even if they were grown organically, they still taste like cardboard). The raspberries are worse; God knows what they were sprayed with and they probably came from Chile by airplane.

3. Preservation Parties
Since not everyone lives in the Sun Belt, where food can more or less be grown year-round, it doesn't work to commit to eating food in season without a concept for how to eat in winter. While Sandhill is happy to have a greenhouse that provides a modest amount of much-appreciated fresh greens in winter, that's an occasional treat, and nowhere near enough to sustain body and soul. So we preserve food in times of abundance to have a full larder for winter.

The economics of this are fairly straight forward. Leaving aside the obvious cash benefits of growing your own food, you'll save gobs of money by purchasing surplus in times of plenty and preserving what you don't eat immediately for later use, when that crop is no longer in season.

At Sandhill we do this in a variety of ways: canning, freezing, drying, and pickling. We've gradually learned which methods work best for which crop (balancing nutrition, palatability, energy costs, and personal preferences) and take considerable pride in eating a diet that is 80% homegrown.

Similar to the point I made in Point 1d) above, don't overlook the potential of turning this work into a party. Instead of feeling overwhlemed by the prospect of processing six 5-gallon buckets of ready-to-ooze vine-ripened tomatoes all by yourself in the heat of August (you can hear Big Mama Thornton in the background, singing "…and it felt, just like a ball 'n' chain"), break out a case of home brew and invite the neighbors over for a tomato party! You'll have those Early Girls and Romas in the jars and sealed before you know it. The trick here is seeing the social potential in the preservation imperative, transforming obligation into opportunity. (It's not cheating, really, and the tomatoes won't taste any better if you suffered while putting them up.)

4. Make it from Scratch
When people characterize America as a Fast Food Nation, what they're referring to is our addiction to convenience (and sugar, salt, and fat). But can we afford it? Leaving aside the health analysis (if Morgan Spurlock's 2004 documentary Super Size Me didn't open you eyes to the health risks of fast food, I'm not sure anything can), it's just plain expensive to pay others to process your food. Every time you step back to more basic ingredients and do the measuring, mixing, and cooking yourself, you save money. (And in my view, pride in the effort is an attractve seaoning.)

5. Meal Sharing
One of the major reservations people wil have with my suggestions above is that they take too much time. While you may have that time inadvertently if your company has folded or your job has been outsourced to Pakistan, what if you haven't? Here's a suggestion that will save you time as well as money:

Get together with local friends (maybe next-door neighbors) and start a meal co-op. To make it simple, suppose you had a group of seven couples who wanted to participate. If each of you cooked one dinner a week, that was large enough to feed everyone, you'd only have to cook once and the other six days others would do it for you. While there wouldn't necessarly be any savings in the total amount of food prepared, it takes far less time to cook one meal for 14 than it does to cook seven times for just two.

Obviously, this can be scaled in many ways, but the principle remains the same. The more meal sharing you do, the more time savings you can achieve. There's a lovely article in Communities magazine #139 (summer 2008) describing this concept: Cook One Meal and Eat for a Week by Joelle Novey.

Taking it a step further, you can also eat together (and clean up together), creating yet more social occasions. In addition, having someone else prepare your meal (which can be pretty fabulous of you've got some good cooks in the mix) can be a reasonable psychic substitute for the variety and relaxation that we often go to restaurants to find. To the extent that you can get the eating out experience without leaving home, it can man substantal savings in your entertainment budget.

6. Celebration Cooking
As my last suggestion in this genre, I recommend you look for chances to combine some of the notions above and increase the frequency of homemade meals featuring local ingredients that are the centerpiece of rituals or celebrations (think seder and birthday parties).

Breaking bread together (matzos if it's a seder) is a social ritual that goes back as far as humanity. It doesn't take money to make a moment special; it takes love and attention. Food—especially that which has been grown, preserved, and cooked by the hands of the participants—provides a universal vehicle for delivery. Make the most of it.

• • •

Finally, a word about barter. There are a lot of people who won't be drawn to gardening, food preservation, or even cooking. Nonetheless, there are still ways you can take advantage of the advice in this blog. Think about offering skills and services you are more adept at (or enjoy more) in exchange for others providing food.

Maybe you could be part of the meal sharing group by agreeing to do all the dishes at the Sunday afternoon potluck. Maybe you could do someone's plumbing in exchange for a year's supply of pickles. Or do their taxes for tomatoes. How about back rubs for rutabagas? You get the idea. You're only limited by your imagination and a coincidence of needs. In the economic times we're entering, we'll need to be relying more on both our creativity and our neighbors. Why not get started now?