Despair And Possibility

"My angst comes in waves—mostly I'm afraid. I try not to think about it,
but when I do, man, it's overwhelming the world we have created.."
A comment from a friend

Despair engulfs us.

Some recent news items….

Close to home…

U.S. Senator Paul Wellstone of Minnesota died in an airplane crash recently, along with his wife, daughter, two pilots, and three staff members. His integrity, authenticity, and humanistic voice gave diversity to our Senate at this dangerous time in history when so many succumb to conformity under the guise of cooperation. Wellstone cared and served. He had the courage and passion so needed in all of us regardless of political persuasion. We need more genuine (and personally respectful) conflict in Washington, not less.

Kirby Puckett is a Hall of Fame baseball player who played for the Minnesota Twins, as famous for his positive attitude and smiling face as his baseball skills. According to an indictment, he grabbed a woman in a bar, dragged her into a men's room, and fondled her. Another celebrity mistaken for a hero disappoints us. Heroes do not abuse others.

On the national level…

Two "super-empowered" snipers set themselves up for capture after killing 10 people selected randomly in the Washington D.C. area. Three others were wounded. For three weeks they terrorized the community. Police discover victims in other states as the investigation continues. The snipers demonstrated the effect people who feel enraged and insignificant can have in this world of mobility, high technology, and available weapons. Seven legal jurisdictions fight over who gets to kill the killers.

Joseph Salvati, an innocent man, spent 30 years in prison for a murder he did not commit. The FBI knew he was innocent, and they knew who would commit the murder before it happened but let Salvati go to prison in order to protect their informants—the real murderers. Salvati's sentence was commuted after 30 years. Two other men, wrongly convicted, died in prison. A fourth, sentenced to death and spared when Massachusetts outlawed the death penalty in 1974, also had his sentence commuted. How many FBI agents and executives knew about this injustice for all these years? Who do we trust when the "good guys" go bad?

And we recall the recent news that seems a lifetime ago: terrorism, pedophile priests, corporate criminals, abuse (sexual, emotional, and physical), abject poverty around the world, and so much more. We live in a world where we find it easier to conform than rebel, easier to destroy than create, easier to run than to face ourselves, easier to fight passively than cooperate authentically, and easier to suppress symptoms than create real solutions to problems. The true "good guys" need to stand up.

All of this despair occurs in the context of environmental threat unparalleled in human history. No one knows when or what systemic impact will send the "system" crashing or even if it will for sure. We do know that we have much to despair about.

I defend despair as an unwanted and difficult friend that I best accept and pay attention to. Despair is as much a part of life's creative work as is joy. Rollo May described despair as a refusal to be oneself—a failure of spirit and a precondition for greater authenticity. The great enemy of pretense, the foe of playing ostrich, despair acts as the enemy of denial and demands that we face the realities of life and face ourselves.

A friend of Voltaire's wrote of him:

There once was a man named Voltaire
Who found his best hope in despair.
If that sounds perverse,
It could have been worse.
Voltaire could declare, "I don't care."

Despair wipes away false hopes, easy morality, and superficial ideas. We can then surrender to eternal forces and experience real transformation, not the false change of pseudoinnocence we so often play at.

Instead of waiting to "hit bottom," we can raise our bottom, surrender our egos temporarily, go into our despair intentionally, and spend time there confident we can come out the other side more authentic and ready for exciting new possibilities born of a fundamental shift in perception. In the process we can ignite new spirit in our lives, experience more intense pleasure and joy, and bring greater maturity to our souls. When we grope in the darkness of despair, at any level, it is hard to see the possibilities, but with an artist's eye we can detect the seeds of transformation.

I will not forget the barren, ash-covered landscape around Mount St. Helens a year or two after the volcano erupted and spewed ash and destruction for hundreds of miles. I felt stunned and thought that this must be what the aftermath of an atomic war would be like. The destruction overwhelmed the landscape; it was easy to overlook the grass beginning to grow through the ash.

Today, thousands of Rocky Mountain and Roosevelt elk roam the plains the mudflow created. Without the forest's shade on the mountain's flanks, grass grows abundantly. Food grows plentiful, yet we see few predators. Shrub-like cottonwood, red alder, and willow saplings cling to the hillsides. Wildflowers of red fireweed and blue lupine thrive. Cleansed by destruction, nature began again. Mount St. Helens, for all of nature's chaos, provides a story of resilience and rejuvenation.

Creativity includes confusion and destruction, often painful and widespread. This description of new life that followed massive upheaval at Mt. St. Helens reminds me of our world today—at scales larger and smaller than Mt. St. Helens.

Buffeted by the deep, broad, and profound upheavals of a creative outrage, our organizations and institutions flounder before our eyes, unable to solve the problems that matter most. We rebel against our belief of separateness even as we live disconnected lives. We struggle mightily to change our ways and feel disappointed. And when an organizational rebel and artist leads successful change, we usually marginalize the person and destroy the work. Yet each successful realization of potential, however short-lived, offers hope and insight. We take small steps toward our possibilities.

Our values shift for many of us and new norms emerge. By trial and error we learn to live, love, lead, and work in new ways. We go forward, we get stuck, and we want to retreat. We go forward anyway. We feel insecure, vulnerable, and we feel the pressures for dogmatism and conformity. The rebels amongst us claim our freedom and authenticity and stand up to the threat of ostracism. We take small steps toward our possibilities.

New scientific knowledge abounds, confuses us, and languishes in obscurity even as the insights could help us. Most want to do what provides the most comfort. Most do not want to read, think, study, or experiment. Many feel too scared to learn. We feel increasingly unsure of ourselves even as an explosion of technology gives us more information than ever before. A few take this knowledge and information into the "pits" of organizations and learn how to translate new concepts to the activities of real people doing real work. We take small steps toward our possibilities.

Globalization and a handful of terrorists make us aware as never before of our interconnectedness and interdependence with the rest of humanity, even as our nation's leader seem determined to stand alone. People around the world see America as an angry giant unaware of how its policies impact others. Other cultures see our shadow and what others project about us from their shadows; we see our light.

Surprised and angered by how people in other cultures perceive us, some want to reject feedback and defend The American Way as these warriors strike out for justice and retribution for terrorism. Others of us also want justice and accountability for terrorism. But we also want to ask more of ourselves. We want heightened consciousness and insight into how we can make life worth living for everyone in this world—not just a few. We want to see our shadow AND our light. We want our nation and people to grow and mature. We want a higher level of leadership: artistic and rebellious leaders who are humble and compassionate as well as strong and determined. Even powerful giants need friends. We take small steps toward our possibilities.

A story of despair and possibility from a man and an organization…

The leader had a difficult life. He suffered from depression most of his life. He continued to smoke, even as cigarettes killed him. He wrestled with his ego and need for approval. He lived in poverty most of his life. But what an organization he created! His honesty about his flaws provided the humility to lead.

The organization has groups in every town and city in the United States and in more than 140 countries of the world (more than 2 million members). Each local group (more than 100,000) functions with autonomy and has little formal structure. New groups begin and old ones die regularly. The organization has no budgets, buildings, or machines. Members make voluntary financial contributions. This "unorganized" organization's marketing plan attracts rather than promotes.

The organization has a powerful sense of purpose and shared values and principles to guide choices. Character development forms the bedrock of this organization. No one gets away with self-delusion for long. Leadership emerges and shifts. All feel included in this organization and no member gets fired or laid off. Everyone values everyone else equally.

Every member of this organization accepts personal responsibility and accountability. They become humble experts at personal mastery and members do not take their success for granted. Meetings in this organization consist of myth, story, and ritual, and in every meeting the shared values, purpose, and vision get discussed. All members feel significant and passion abounds. Spirit and commitment emerge from equality, creativity, and shared decision-making. We call this organization Alcoholics Anonymous.

The leader was Bill Wilson: a hopeless, defeated, and hospitalized alcoholic who faced immanent death. His elemental need to live rose from the deepest depths of his soul. A powerful spiritual experience reordered his psyche. He never drank alcohol again (36 years) and began, from despair, a worldwide movement that has saved unknown millions of lives. The organization began and grew one conversation at a time. Minds and lives changed. Aldous Huxley called Wilson the greatest social architect of the twentieth century. The deepest personal despair imaginable preceded his greatest possibilities and achievements.

What held the adolescent egos of alcoholics together in the early stages of their movement? Bill Wilson believed it had to do with the willingness of members to place the welfare of others above their own desires. AA--not a course of behavior--exemplifies a humble and committed attitude of the mind and heart that, unlike most organizational change efforts, survived its leader.

Alcoholics discovered the need for connection with one another around a shared identity and a shared vision. A.A. demonstrates an organizational model for the 21st century. The Twelve Steps provide a spiritual model for life that can serve the adolescent egos of our organizations and concepts for the development of higher level leaders. How ironic that the "throwaways" of our society provide a model for organizational leadership and a model for personal mastery that fit the times in which we live. If Bill Wilson and millions of drunks can rescue themselves from despair, so can everyone else.

An executive friend wrote:

My fear is that I will fail to save myself from the destruction.
My prayer is for the strength to persevere until truth can bloom.

My prayer is for a warrior's heart and a holy man's compassion.
My prayer is to be a witness to truth prevailing in our world.
Who are you?

An e-mail message from the news program Nightline asked, how long can this go on? The message referred to the snipers. The larger externalization of despair will go on until we get real and face our shadow—personal, organizational, and national. We can then change our minds about how we live in this world and imagine new possibilities, which millions do daily.

To save the world for future generations and to serve all of the life that makes the Earth home offers a noble purpose. What can I do? I can face my shadow. I can do the work I do best. I can look for the possibilities in my life. I can be braver and nobler as I live a life that is mine. I can contribute what I can in my sphere of influence. In doing so, I can retain my humanity and ignite my passion for my potential.

Tonight I attended a fifth and sixth grade violin concert. I felt inspired by the pride, passion, innocence, excitement, enthusiasm, and good feeling of the event. The two classes demonstrated how much children can learn and improve their performance in one year. They demonstrated how fast change can happen when people make commitments. Commitments require that we choose, and that we act. Our commitments, choices, and actions make the values we talk about real.

And when we care, make deep commitments, and when we act passionately from our deepest authenticity we can change fast and effectively just like the fifth and sixth graders.