Author: scottg

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the joy of the job: a new beginning?

I was chatting with Mitch the 10-year-old this week.

As an aside, how good is it when your kids reach a point where the conversations turn interesting, and insightful and not just about crayons, lego and fart jokes (ok, I confess one of those topics of conversation is primarily my responsibility in our family)?

Anyway…leaving that mental image aside…out of the blue, Mitch said to me:

“Dad, do you enjoy your job?”

Do I enjoy my job.  Interesting question. Well…do I enjoy my job?

I made some non-committal answer like “sometimes I do Mitch, and sometimes I don’t”.

Mitch’s response?

“If I had your job Dad, I would enjoy it a lot!”

I’m assuming he was talking about my real 9-5 job, not the other in which I moonlight as a columnist and product tester for a R/C car magazine.

The truth of course, in adult world, is that most of us have parts of our job/life that we thoroughly enjoy, and parts that we don’t.  The bits of my job where I’m trying to channel creativity, getting involved in interesting conversations that unfold possibility, that help people (including me) see light…these I enjoy thoroughly. The bits that are administrative, organising events, management tasks…well….not so much.

But Mitch’s question has stuck with me, because in an adult-kind-of-way to brush it off with a “sometimes yes, sometimes no” answer seems to do it (and him) a disservice.

I think the deeper question he was asking might be something like “am I glad I do what I do? is it more than just a job? do I look forward to the opportunities I have in my work?”

Or maybe “you spend a lot of time at work Dad (subtext: when you could be playing cricket with me), is it all worthwhile?”

Maybe the truth is that while I’d like to be a glass-half-full kind of guy, I’ve accidentally slipped into a kind of pessimism about the organisation I work for and it’s challenging future. And from that point of view, the word “enjoy” doesn’t quite fit.

So my challenge, for 2014, is to reshape that attitude, to look for the possibility and the potential in every day. To remember my sense of excitement about my work in this organisation, alongside these excellent people.

To reach a point where I am able to answer honestly the next time Mitch asks if I enjoy my job:

“You bet I do”

How about you…do you enjoy your job?

And just because it’s my role in my family…here’s a little gratuitous dad humour for you:

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a little peace of christmas

christmas treeI found myself in the Brisbane city centre this week, taking my kids to see the parade, pantomine and (honestly, amazing) city hall light spectacular.

It’s Christmas, it’s school holidays, it’s a fun outing for the kids.  Those were the kind of thoughts in mind as we headed off into town.

Unexpectedly to find myself in the middle of my own baffling analysis of what Christmas means today.

The parade was an impressive but kind of confused mix of the Nutcracker story with Christmas themes. Marching bands, ballerinas, stunt-mice, toy soldiers, choirs, dancing Christmas trees, kids dressed as gifts, Santa in his two-reindeer-drawn-sleigh (the rest presumably resting up for the big flight on 25/12) were all in the mix.

And right in the middle, somewhere after the christmas trees, gift-wrapped children and marching drummers, came Mary on a donkey (baby Jesus already born, hung in a sling from Mary’s shoulders) with Joseph alongside, and a few shepherds (real sheep!) and wise men (real camels!) following along behind.

They passed by follow by Santa, then a giant inflatable toy train and the aforementioned stunt-mice (no, I have no idea why either).

I found myself thinking “well, it’s nice that in a commercial Christmas parade there is a little room for Jesus, good on them.”  It’s almost incarnational, Jesus in the parade, passing by 10-15-20000 people, reminding them there is more to Christmas that gift-wrapped commercialism and tinsel-draped pine trees.

And then later, as I pondered some more I started to wonder if it was so good after all?

Perhaps its not so good that Jesus fits neatly into the parade between the presents, the santa, the dancing tree and the stunt-mice. Just another costumed actor in a mixed-message presentation of all that Christmas means in Australia.

For Christians of course, Jesus is the reason for the season. The main thing.  Santa, gifts, family etc, they come as secondary considerations (important, celebrated, fun, valued, but still secondary).

For our nation, as we move from being a kind-of-christian society to a mixed, multicultural, multi-ethnic, multi-religious, kind-of-secular state, it seemed to me that this Christmas parade was a bit of a metaphor for what’s going on.

A bit of everything, maybe no real connected, articulated meta-story being told?

And I wonder if the presence of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the animals, sheep and wise-men in this whole big mess raises some questions for the Christian church.

Does it (do we) just want to be one more dressed-up set of actors in the midst of a whole parade? A bit part in the whole confusing story of what it means to be Australian, human, created, community in the 21st century?  Any particular message we might have to share…does it just get lost in the mumbling?

Or is it more important in this time and place to stand out, to be distinctively different, sure and certain of what we claim to believe, who we claim to follow? Should we refuse to participate in the parade at all?

And if we do, does this sanitised, commercialised, feel-good image of the beautiful baby, silent-night, well-dressed shepherd thing kind of inoculate the world against any real power of the Jesus story?

For it is a scandal, this story. Here is the creator of the universe, this God who is all knowing, all powerful, come to life as a helpless, crying, poo-ing baby, spending his first night in an animal’s feed-trough to a teenaged mother and recently-contemplating-divorce father.

This child who would spend his life counter to every human expectation of the son of God, eschewing wealth, power, privilege, refusing to live into the expectations of those around him.

Who would claim time and again that true humanity stands with the powerless, heals the sick, hugs the unhuggable, loves the unlovable, frees the unfree-able, knows the unknowable.

This child-to-become-man whose unremarkable beginning and completely localised life, unknown more than 100 miles from his birth-place would spark generations of debate, discussion, passion, compassion, grace and controversy the world over.

Maybe after all, his place is here, easily-lost in the midst of this Christmas parade of options, one helpless baby in a sea of hundreds of singers, actors and dancers, unable to convey any message beyond love and total dependence.

Maybe it’s a reminder, that even if we forget sometimes, God is in all things, all times, all places. Sometimes easily missed, for sure, but there nonetheless.

In the midst of your Christmas, as you tip-toe between wrapping paper, torn-apart bon-bons, plates of half-eaten prawns, sleeping uncles, half-built Lego and squabbling children, may you notice the anonymous baby in the midst of the parade.

May you ponder his place in the drama of Christmas.

And his place in your life.

Merry Christmas.

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on anticipation, christmas and an unexpected jesus

On Sunday I had the opportunity to speak during the morning service at Toowong Uniting Church (our family hangs out with the TUC community regularly). It’s a rare thing for me, and aside from the anxiety it induces, it was an enjoyable experience.  The message is based on a reading from Matthew 11:1-11 – read it here. Here’s the words I used on Sunday:

Recently I had the opportunity to head over to New Zealand for a few days to help my brother celebrate what we like to call a “zero” birthday. He was turning 40.

We had been planning the trip most of the year since first deciding to go, and had a pretty fair idea of what it would involve.  5 blokes, a lake house, a big bike ride, golf, great food and drink, spectacular scenery, spur of the moment adventures. What’s not to like about that plan?

I have to tell you that for the last couple of months, thoughts of that NZ trip were never far away for me.  I was excited to go, and would spend completely inappropriate amounts of time looking forward to the trip, imagining what the experience would be like, living out the various adventures we had planned while we were there.

The anticipation was delicious. And unbearable.  I was so excited I could hardly wait. Continue reading →

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the life of the international athlete ;)

Have you heard the one about the lawyer, the architect, the social worker, the restaurateur and the minister?

Sounds like it would be a terrible joke to me!  But that’s the mob with which I travelled to New Zealand recently for my first tilt at being an international athlete.

We were making the trip to NZ to ride in the Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge  – a weekend cycling festival that draws in over 8000 entries for a variety of events. The majority, like the five of us, were there for the “Solo” – a 154km circumnavigation of the stunning Lake Taupo.

In the field of somewhere between 4000 and 5000 “Solo” riders is everything from semi-professional to barely prepared, from bikes with price tags that would make your eyes water, to K-Mart quality mountain bikes.  It’s not a race, but a challenge (yeah….right!).

For some the challenge is to beat a personal best time, for others to beat their mates.

For some it’s an endurance event. A very small group go out to complete 2, 4 or a staggering 8 laps of the 154km course.  There are shorter (family friendly) rides too, along with relays and some spectacular mountain bike events.

For many, and for most of our group this is true, the challenge was to complete the Solo course and enjoy the experience.

We were at the ride as a celebration of my brother Paul’s 40th birthday.  Rather than a giant party, it’s becoming more and more common these days (at least in our circle of friends/family) to mark the momentous birthday with a special experience – and because there’s no fun doing something like the Taupo ride with a bunch of strangers (and to make sure he got home in one piece), a few of us joined the expedition.

As our trip to NZ was all about the ride it was a pretty short one – but we did manage to pack in a round of golf at Taupo Golf Club (where the rough was unbelievable, and the golf not much better!) the day before the ride.  And then a hilariously out of control encounter with the concrete luge racing track at Rotorua Skyline the day after. Less said about that the better in case word gets back to them of our shenanigans and we get blacklisted!

The ride, of course, was the main event.  It was hilly (somewhere around 2000m of climbing over the course) and made all the more difficult by what started as a stiff breeze and got steadily stronger as the day went on.

Most frustratingly, the wind backed around over the course of the day, meaning that for 90% of the ride we either had a headwind, or a nasty cross-wind. Neither is much fun to ride in! A little rain occasionally wasn’t too much to worry about and temperatures were pretty nice for cycling all day – hovering between 15 and 20 C.

Weather aside, it was a wonderful experience to ride with more than 4000 other cyclists, to find groups in which to draft, hide, lead and chat, to meet and talk with so many cyclists from every corner of NZ and a few other places further afield (about 300 Aussies for example).

We tried to set a realistic pace and all got through the ride pretty comfortably in the end. Paul suffered a couple of punctures which slowed him a little, and Tony some drive-train issues on the downhill sections – but otherwise we were trouble free.

The scenery was beautiful, our loop taking us through lush green pastures, rolling hills, lovely forest and the stunning lake-side drive along the southern edge of the lake.

View from the 92km rest stop looking over Lake Taupo

There was plenty of climbing to do, most of it in the first 90km, but nothing too serious. Grades were moderate and the pace comfortable enough. The notorious Hatepe Hill at the 130km mark turned out to be pretty manageable – with our only tailwind of the day helping us up the long grind.

Tucking into a group and blasting along the rare flats at around 40kmh was definitely a highlight, along with some very fast descending. My speedo registered a top of 70km/h during the ride. For a proper cyclist that’s unremarkable, but for me….let’s just say I knew I was alive!

Our group split up a little over the course of the day. Dug is much faster than the rest of us so set off early in one of the fast groups. The rest started together but splintered a little on the first 12km (pretty much all uphill!) section.  And then Paul’s second puncture split us again so we all came in solo. Dug hit the 154km in around 4hrs 48 mins, myself 6.26, Simon 6.29, Paul 6.34 and Tony 7.04.

I couldn’t have been happier with my own ride. I felt good all day and did plenty of leading as well as some following and hiding out of the wind. There were some fast groups that we couldn’t quite hang on to, but not for want of trying!

I hadn’t cranked out huge rides in training (my longest training ride went around 90km) but I spend plenty of time lapping Mt Cootha and a couple of trips over to Mt Gravatt…and that really helped. I had no trouble with the hills and felt very strong on the flats.  Maybe it helps that I do most of my training rides solo, with no group to tuck in behind…who knows.  A freshen up of the bike (Giant Defy 3) with some new light/fast tyres definitely sped things along as well.

It should be said that the last 20 km was awful.  Gusty, nasty side winds, narrow road, lots of traffic and then a turn into a blunt headwind for most of the last 3-4 km just plain hurt.  It would have been nice to ride in with the sun shining and a gentle breeze at our backs for that last half-hour…but not to be!

So the Contact Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge 154km Solo ride is done and dusted.

Would we do it again?  Absolutely.

Will we actually do it again? Who knows.

If you’re a cyclist, put this ride on your list as a fantastic experience and a very well organised event.

And besides, there’s nothing quite like being an international athlete.

PS: Paul, in case you read this. There is no way, not now, not in 2015 that I am riding the Victorian Three Peaks ride.  4000m of climbing over 210km in a single day? I hope you enjoy it!

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9 people who write

I have a few friends (and family) who write what I think are the most interesting things. You should go for a visit and see if they are your style. Here’s some of my favourites:

wednesday wonderings – gathering grace in the everyday:  Caroline has been living in Cambodia for years now, and just as she prepares to return to Australia, I discover this quite lovely, thoughtful (and thought-provoking) collection of stories and observations from her time there. I wish I had known of it sooner, and I hope Caroline continues to write with a kind of cross-cultural eye when she returns.

katie is travelling:  Katie is the kind of interesting, funny, bang-on writer I wish i was.  Mostly she writes stories here from the road (which might be anywhere in the world) and you will laugh and cry with her – guaranteed.  She’s also about to release her first book and I’ll be plugging it when it’s out and about.

matt guyatt golf:  really interesting insight into the life of a pro athlete. Last Sunday I watched on at the Australian PGA Championship as Matt’s day went pear shaped in full public view. 4am the next day he is on a plane to the next tournament – no time to lick wounds, recover or process.  Glamorous? Not so much.  Check in for Matt’s stories from life on tour.

passing phase: Tracey started writing almost as therapy while figuring out how to be mum to a pair of rambunctious twins (that’s my words from the outside, not Tracey’s). Passing Phase is growing as the boys grow and now explores all sorts of ideas. Topics like parenting and family, disadvantage, politics and education all feature regularly.  I like it most when Tracey rages. There’s nothing quite look a good, well written vent.

scott warner photography: Scott is awesome with words, but he’s building a new kind of way to share life with photos. Check out some stunning images from south east Queensland and beyond.

the kids inheritance: my folks are grey nomads, wandering around Australia in their caravan, spending my inheritance. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Mum is the writer and a growing photographer, stories filled with fascinating detail about all sorts of places that I might never visit.

weave and wonder: it’s kind of photoblog, meets writing blog, meets small business. Weave and Wonder is both Melissa’s child-focussed art project/business and a place where she connects art, colour, pattern and rhythms of life. Also a prolific and quite delightful instagrammer here if instagram is your style.

hold this space: Cheryl writes what I like to think of as “dispatches from the edge”.  From the edge of faith. From the edge of society. From places many of us don’t visit.  And she writes so poetically I can almost (almost) forget I’m being pushed and challenged by the experiences behind the words.

riley says:  Not only because I’m the proud dad of 11 y/old Riley, but because she writes funny and interesting stories and poems from her vivid imagination. Her ode to Tasmania’s incomparable Maria Island is a ripper.

I hope you take a few minutes to visit some or all of these. They’re fascinating sites in their own right, but written by people who I know to be truly what the pages present.

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new world….new tricks

Photo 18-10-13 3 43 09 PMThere I sat in the main lounge at Canberra airport, tired after a long week and ready to head for Brisbane and home.

And in wandered four snappily dressed people, a heap of music and sound gear on their trolley, and started unloading just behind us.

“The Griffyn Ensemble – Canberra’s Best Chamber Music Foursome” read the banner as they erected it, and started setting up keyboard, microphones, speaker and music stands in what must be just about the most unlikely setting for such a group.

They slowly set themselves, tuning instruments, and completing little sounds checks as they set and reset volume and listened carefully for the acoustics in this relatively new airport lounge.

It seemed they hadn’t played there before as they experimented with different settings, looking for the perfect combination of sound in an unfamiliar, and unusual setting.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard chamber music live on a Friday afternoon in a busy airport terminal.

What I appreciated about the experience was watching this group bring their skills, gifts, instruments and equipment to a completely new setting.

It seemed experimental, unfamiliar and a challenge for the group (though it looked to be an challenge they were enjoying).

I couldn’t help thinking about other aspects of my life where those same experiences are under-way.

In the church I work with we are constantly wrestling with how to bring ancient rhythms and patterns, treasured gifts and approaches and apply them in a whole new world that is opening up around all of us.

The challenges of this new time and place are profound and unique – just as I imagine playing chamber music in an airport hall must be.

Sometimes we find it all a bit too hard, all but giving in to the temptation to pack up our instruments and head for more familiar territory.

But you know what? The gentle sounds of that soft and somewhat unusual music filled the room, and suddenly it seemed right and natural.

I don’t know whose idea it was, but I was glad for the Griffyn Ensemble that afternoon, just as I am glad every time I see someone experimenting, trying old things in new places, or even new things in old places.

My prayer for the church is the spirit of creativity, of boldness, of risk taking as it seeks to relate to a new and different world.

It might take us a while as we tune instruments, check the volume and get used to a new and unknown acoustic.

But the sweet music of grace, compassion and gospel can just as readily fill the room, wherever we find ourselves – if only we can find the courage and willingness to trust our giftedness…and try.

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you are a machine!

Recently I was in Canberra for work, staying with a friend in the foothills of Mt Taylor, to the city’s south.

With my battle against middle age continuing, I packed the running shoes, intending to get out for an early morning run before each day’s conference gathering got under-way.

My host advised a left turn from his driveway and then head up towards Mt Taylor to pick up a flat walking trail that runs all the way around the bottom of the mountain with quiet countryside and spectacular views – and a distance of around 5k or so.  Perfect.

So I headed out, turned left into the park and started up the 2-300m straight uphill section (flat!) to the walking trail.  As I huffed and puffed my way up the hill, a young bloke came around the corner at the top and headed down the trail toward me.

As we passed, him strolling downhill, me doing a good impression of a man about to have a heart attack, he spoke to me:

“Great work! You are a machine!”

I puffed my way up, and he was gone.  Never seen him before, unlikely to ever see him again.

Those words were powerful, just as I felt like slowing to a walk I found a little extra energy to complete the last of the climb to the trail.

A machine!

Now honest truth be told, I would have looked anything but.  Hunched over, almost shuffling, breathing hard, mismatched running cclothes, ill-fitting old cap.

Some machine….

But, days later, I still feel a little burst of energy when I think of his words.

They cost him nothing to utter. Just a couple of words to a complete stranger.

Such is the power of encouragement.

Further on in the run I nodded hello to a couple of retired blokes out walking their dogs. Later as I looped around the mountain I came upon them again, this time a more friendly greeting exchanged between us all.

Day two and and I ran Mt Taylor once more. How could I not? I was a machine!

Of course I saw those two same gents and their pair of pooches, out for their morning walk, and the greeting was once again a little more friendly as I continued on my way.

And then one final time as I neared my last stretch, almost out on my feet with the hills in my legs (flat!), I ran into that same pair, chatting animatedly, walking their dogs.  They looked up, saw me coming and one spoke aloud to his friend, and to me:

“Aha, we know this guy, he’s the runner! Keep it up, you are doing awesome!”

I returned the greeting, we chatted momentarily as I passed, and that was that.

From somewhere came the energy to finish out that run, standing just a little taller, striding out just a little longer.

Words are free.

But they are also priceless.

Of course just as easily words can hurt and drag down, but on this occasion, these occasions, two different people offered freely the gift of encouragement to a stranger. Words not deserved, or earned, and with nothing to be earned in return by the giver…..but given anyway, given generously.

And not only did I run a little longer and better as a result, but resolved to pass on words of encouragement wherever I can, to friend or stranger.

Encouragement might just be the gift that keeps on giving.

And it’s free.

Get better than that.

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shoulder to shoulder

Over the last couple of days, much media attention has been focused on the big gathering aimed at producing “The Queensland Plan”.  It’s been an important gathering, and the plan will hopefully help government and community alike map out a pathway for the next couple of decades.

While all the public attention focused there, a lesser known, but potentially more important gathering also took place, with the first public event to launch the brand new Queensland Community Alliance.

The Alliance, modelled after similar community organising groups in Sydney, London and Los Angeles (among many other places), sees faith groups, trade unions and other community organisations join together focused on the common good.

It’s not party political, but will engage with all levels of government with the aim of a better, stronger, fairer society.

It is primarily oriented around building capacity, resilience and relationship, with the ultimate purpose of making our communities stronger.  The organisations involved may share different world views, but ultimately find a lot in common as through their members they seek justice, compassion, empowerment and so on.

Last night was the first public gathering, and the official launch for the Alliance.

17 organisations have so far signed on and committed the necessary funding the help the Alliance grow.  They’re an interesting mix with trade unions such as Together, the Rail/Bus/Tram Union, Qld Nurses, Independent Education, Teachers and so on standing alongside Uniting and Catholic Churches (with hopefully other faith groups to come) and community groups such as the Ethiopian Community  Association and Multicultural Development Association’s, just to name a few.

The mood in the room is positive, buoyant, even a little excited as representatives of each member group declare their commitment to one another and the Alliance, and a rowdy crowd of several hundred cheer enthusiastically.

It’s a grass-roots action this one, slow and gentle.

The initial action of the Alliance will be to listen and build relationships.  Listen to the community, listen to the members of it’s constituent organisations, listen to each other.

All that takes time.

I was glad to be at the launch last night (and to have my daughter with me, exploring her own commitment to growing a healthy society), to be inspired by the enthusiasm and passion on display and to have the chance to start making connections beyond the church I work for.

One story I heard last night came from a man who lost his public sector job after several decades.  He sounds lost and broken, more than a year down the track from the Qld Government “cleanout” and with no job, no prospects.  The Alliance gives him hope that people will join together, stand shoulder to shoulder in support and solidarity.

Another I spoke with was a refugee from Zimbabwe. His home destroyed by his own government, accused of all sorts of things, left with no option but to flee for his life. The experience has turned him into one who is active in strengthening the community, building resilience, standing up for justice. He works in the Qld public sector union Together and is excited about all that the Alliance might mean for ordinary people all over.

As an aside, here’s a young man working hard to make Australia a better place for all, and who came here as a refugee.  How shameful the way our nation treats those today who are running for their lives, offering a cold shoulder and a prison cell for daring to dream.

It’s early days for the Queensland Community Alliance, and a lot of work to be done, but, like I said, this is one “under-the-radar” initiative has the potential to make a very real difference in our cities and towns in the years ahead.

Head over to the facebook page to check it out, and see if your church/union/club/school/organisation can offer something by standing shoulder-to-shoulder with others.

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the gift of cobbold

IMG_0912Cobbold Gorge is a narrow crack in the sandstone plains of Robin Hood Station, around 6-7 hours drive north west from Townsville.

The Gorge grew over a long period of time, water slowly seeping through the cracks, washing away sediment and eventually gouging a way through the sandstone as the  young (in relative terms) gorge grew.

And then in only the early 1990’s was it “discovered”, fully formed.

It is a remarkable sight, well worth the time to travel into its depths by silent electric boat, the Savannah Guides revealing many of it secrets (even if not the resident freshwater crocodiles on the day we visited).

Cobbold Gorge is home to another secret too, another that grew little by little before popping into existence in recent times.

Camp Cobbold is the brainchild of dynamic mother/daughter duo Katerina Keogh and Min Jones, and takes place at the Cobbold Gorge campgroup/resort (neither label seems quite enough on its own) each September/October.  Backed by SU Qld and with the support of a diverse range of volunteers, it is an amazing gift of generosity to isolated northern Queensland cattle farming families who daily do battle with the trials of distance, drought and disadvantage.

Camp Cobbold can’t possibly fix all of those immense challenges, but it offers the families that come a few days of respite, the social interaction so limited by isolation, and access to a range of experiences and services brought by the camp team that are normally not readily accessible.

In 2013 around 40 families came, with about 120 kids and their (mostly) mums living at Cobbold Gorge for 5 days.

My family were privileged to be among them, joining a team of 30 from Toowong Uniting Church to convoy north and offer our support and assistance for the week.

Our camp-week seems to have disappeared into a heat haze of over-powered memories.  Dirt and dust. Flies and wallabies. Heat and harshness.  Smiles and tears. Fun and games.

Resilient, fighting, fun-loving people.

Gorgeous kids who at one moment seem just like any other (city) kid, but in the next reveal their different context by declaring their favourite activity to be “shooting pigs with dad”.

Many will leave home at age 11 or 12 to go to boarding school, likely not to return.

And with one failed wet season after another, the earth is parched, the cattle withering, sale price of cattle not even covering the cost of transport to market.

It’s heart-break upon heart-break.

And yet, despite those realities that lie beneath daily life, Camp Cobbold is a place of celebration, of laughter, of joy.

A place of renewed and restored relationships, of learning and discovery, of new experiences.

And that’s exactly the point of it all….at least as I understand it.

The team that traveled north to help with Camp Cobbold was diverse, professional services like speech therapy, physiotherapy and counselling, joining practitioners such as beauty therapists, swimming coaches, poets and youth workers.

The team offered a lot, gifted a great deal to the families of the north; and their work and generosity is to be celebrated.

But to be honest, every one of us gained so much more in return that it hardly seems like a fair deal.

We learned so much about ourselves, so much about the nation we live in, and so much about the people we share it with, I’m pretty sure I know who gets the best of the arrangement.

Thanks SU Qld, Cobbold Gorge and Toowong Uniting Church for making space for us to join you for the week. But thanks most of all to the families of North Queensland cattle stations who welcomed us, forgave our uneducated city ways and extended friendship and welcome.

Any time you can visit Cobbold Gorge would be pretty special, but in Camp week it’s something else entirely.

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leadership 8: riding out the vacuum

Over the last few weeks as I’ve pondered leadership lessons, I’ve had cause on several occasions to think back to my time in outdoor education, working with Higher Ground Australia.

One of my very first encounters with the crew at HGA took place on a training weekend. I was there as a potential staff member, alongside a range of others who were interested in developing outdoor leadership and facilitation skills. We were working through a series of practical and theoretical sessions over the weekend.

One of the most memorable moments of the weekend for me (and it would live long in the collective memory at Higher Ground) happened late one evening. We had been out running some navigation and rescue simulations before being sent scurrying by an electrical storm.  As we (a group of 20-25 potential leaders) gathered in the warm, dry shelter of the campsite hall, we figured the experienced HGA leadership team would tell us what to do next – when it would be safe to move back outside, or whether the evening’s activities would be cancelled due to the weather.

Those same facilitators abruptly asked us to make our own decision with only one condition – it had to be unanimous – and then retired to the back of the room to watch.

In a complete leadership vacuum, the consequence was both predictable and frustrating and eventually a powerful lesson.

Loud voices dominated.

Proposals were offered, analysed, and often split the group.

Consensus was far away.

Voices were raised, frustration increased and a stalemate quickly grew between those who wanted to return to the activities, and those who wanted to call it done as rain continued to fall.

There was no solution reached, and eventually the leadership team returned, quickly moving the conversation from whether to return to the activity or not, to an analysis of what had just unfolded between us.

In a sense of course, the situation was artificial. But as a participant, the experience was powerful.  With no structured handover, no established hierarchy there was an absence of leadership.  Some offered power as a solution, some quiet reason, some obstinate refusal.

This week in class one of the topics we touched on was the transfer of power from one leader (or leadership group) to the next.

There is a sense in which the incumbent leader needs to release power, to let go. And to do that fully and properly, not holding on to influence over the community. That’s maybe a story for another day.

And there is always the need for the next generation of leader/s to be identified, to take up the reigns as it were.  That too, might be a story for another time.

But it seems to me that there is always this in between time.  Even when there is careful transition from one leader or group of leaders to the next, there is so often a moment of uncertainty – when the relationship between the group/community/organisation and the new leader has to be understood on its own terms, rather than just depending on the endorsement of the outgoing leader and carrying on as all-systems-normal.

The question for me is: do we resist this in between time? Do everything we can to minimise it? Perhaps even imagine that we have arranged such a smooth transition that there is no need for the in-between?

My sense is (and feel free to disagree) that sooner or later the relationship between the new leader and the community will be tested, reformed and reshaped.  If we allow that process to happen naturally at the point of transition, just maybe that’s better in the long run than the re-shaping happening in the face of some challenge or crises a little while down the track.

However we manage it, three things have to happen in leadership transition.

  • Someone (or group) has to leave the leadership role, fully and properly and appropriately.
  • Someone has to be chosen or appointed.
  • The community/leader relationship has to be re-defined.

Even if the in-between space is uncomfortable, even if the outcome is uncertain, even if we feel momentarily rudderless….the in-between time matters a great deal because it’s where we understand who we are together.

That camp hall experience as the rain pounded down will live long for me. First as to what can occur in a vacuum of leadership with no process in place to move forward. But second as a reminder that however leadership transition occurs, there is always a moment (fleeting as it may be) where there are no hands on the wheel.

And that’s kind of ok.

By the way….we did eventually go back outside that night and finish our training activities. But we took so long to make the decision that the storm had passed and stars shone above. I think that’s a lesson in itself – about the power of procrastination!

NB: This is the eighth in a serious of posts reflecting on leadership, written during a Religious Leadership course with Trinity Theological College

NBB: That’s the end of the course. I’ll offer a closing thought on the experience in a week or two. If you were part of the course, let me invite you to send me your own reflections which I’d be very happy to post as a Guest Blog. Thanks for reading.