I received a comment from a co-worker recently that stopped me.
“I think you took more than your 100% responsibility though because I didn’t see a community not giving feedback but learning how. Your vision of a feedback rich community is coming to fruition — it just takes time.”
I loved it. And I reacted to it immediately: No. No it doesn’t take time, I want it now.
Then I sat with that. The attachment I have to this vision. The impatience underneath it. And then I nearly wept at the beauty of what he’d shared. Every time I get a taste of what I’m building, I’m more fortified in the pursuit of it. Of course it takes time.
My friend and coach, Tracy Rekart, keeps pushing me to share what I’m doing. I fail to see how it’s special — anyone can do it. But she keeps pushing, so here I am. If you like what you read, you can try it too. Or if you’re already doing something similar, maybe we can do it in community.
What I think I’m doing is implementing frameworks for community building — learning and implementing at the same time. It’s messy. Slow. A lot of YouTube, books, and podcasts. In the case of my co-worker’s comment, it started with a peer review called out of frustration. That common, important feeling that something needs to stop, frustration.
The framework is Holacracy — a system that empowers individual action by defining pathways, one of which is governing new pathways into existence. But the framework is only part of it. The other part is holding space for frustration to become action. Allowing the authentic states of others to produce something real. At least, that’s what I’m doing when I’m at my best.
I wasn’t always this way. I’ve been learning alongside the team the whole time. Wisdom, I’m finding, is only earned over time.
Then yesterday I had another moment that felt like some of my finest work.
I generated a governance proposal — one that goes through what’s called the integrative decision making process. If you haven’t encountered it, look it up. It’s genius. It locates control with the proposer, invites authentic feedback as influence rather than control, and allows a proposal to move forward so long as no one can prove harm before there’s time to course correct. It orients toward rapid, informed, incremental change. It errs toward trials over perfection.
During the reaction round, every single person on my leadership team expressed considerable resistance.
Old Greg would have pushed forward. The framework said it was safe enough to try. I had the pathway.
Current Greg withdrew the proposal.
Their resistances ranged from “this is too unclear on how to implement” to “this looks like an attempt to control” to “this is already being done.” I could see how all of it was true for each of them — and also how it might be untrue if they could implement in tailored ways. But what I really saw was that the team isn’t ready for this change. That was good enough for now.
What I also saw was thinking made visible. Mine and theirs. I saw protective orientations — of themselves, of the organization — that I could trust. I saw how my own attempt to protect the organization was also protecting my small interests. And I saw how, influenced by my peers, that protection could become something better.
So what am I actually doing?
Embracing discomfort as a pathway to better outcomes. Holding gently when people make mistakes — which they will, which I do. Engaging in humility and transparency when I can muster the safety and courage to do so.
It’s growing on itself. When I source these things — grace, patience, understanding — they get seen. They get shared. They spread. And then, when I make a big mistake, I feel even more safe exposing it. Because I’ve spent years populating this community with exactly what I need when I fall down.
I wasn’t always this way. I’m still not always this way.
But I’m more this way than I used to be and I like the results and I’ve heard others do too.
