I’ve always thought of myself as a no-drama type of guy, but when it comes to group facilitation, I think it’s actually the drama that lures me in.
A while ago I saw a TED talk by Andrew Stanton (screenwriter best known for “Finding Nemo” and other Pixar hits), where he quoted playwright Richard Archer who said “Drama is anticipation mingled with uncertainty.”
In terms of facilitation, that’s an equation I find myself in the middle of: The difference between my anticipation of what’s possible + the uncertainty that it will come to pass = The Drama.
My anticipation of what is possible when things “go well” comes from the best experiences I’ve had in groups—authentic, productive, touching, depthful, transformative connections and creativity between people. Group experiences at their peak. Yet my awareness of all the things that could possibly derail the experience—including my own cynicism, judgment, fear, ego, technical problems, unmanageable conflict, poor ground rules, etc.—also coming from my worst experiences with groups, produces an uncertainty that’s just as strong.
Right in the middle of the anticipation and uncertainty, there’s me. Conducting while listening, guiding while trying to constantly tune in to information about what to do or not do to best serve both my intention and the group’s collective intention.
It’s compelling drama, yes. Unfortunately, I sometimes feel like the main character.
And if I’m not careful, the drama might get the better of me.
Once, while facilitating a multi-day experiential event, I almost took it off the rails.
On the final evening of a very successful event, I planned to facilitate what I anticipated would be a peak, integrative, and touching experience for group. I had meticulously planned how to make it work with 150 people, designed the room set up, timing, and working it into the schedule. The stage was set.
Just about everything I could control was in place—yet when it came time, the group’s energy was going in a completely different direction. It was incoherent. Many people had shifted into party mode, and only about half were even remotely available to listen to me. Unfortunately (for my sake) I ignored this, convinced that I or the experience could shift the tide for everyone.
To make things worse, microphone setup was late. So naturally, eager to make it across the growing chasm of uncertainty, I found myself yelling to gather attention and give instructions on what would have been a quiet, reflective exercise. (I appreciate irony more when it is happening to other people.)
At best I could grab the group’s attention for 15 seconds—it was chaotic. And at one point I found myself literally doing an impression of a chicken just to light heartedly get the room back. As good as the impression was, a flightless bird actually was an apt metaphor for how things were going.
After a couple clunky attempts, (thankfully) it dawned on me that I had overlooked how off schedule we were, and failed to notice how long the open bar had been open. The room was a completely different energetic playing field. I realized I was flailing. There I was, looking for a way through, a way to still provide emotional depth and celebration, a way to get back on schedule and be congruent with the group.
It was only when I actually paused mid-flail to notice what was happening did I see the opportunity sitting right in front of me. It was there all along, next on the schedule even: an improvisational music and spoken word jam. A peak, integrative, and touching experience. It couldn’t help but flow and be in concert with whole room. I just needed to drop my attachment to my plan and what I was anticipating things would look like.
That’s where I saw the difference that made a difference. It wasn’t my attachment to my aspiration or my intention that was the problem. It was my fixation on HOW that was going to happen that was taking me off the rails.
And what’s more, my commitment to my aspiration wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it was because I was completely committed to my intention that I was able to let go of my plan and recognize the opportunity staring me in the face –and how much better suited it was to the moment than what I was trying to pull off.
For me, this insight reveals the finest of fine lines in the drama of facilitation. How do I prepare fully and invite people into a transformative experience, yet without pushing them into what I’m fixated on creating?
My ongoing quest—my developmental edge—is to discover the intersection between the right amount of structure & planning and enough room for freedom and creative emergence.
The axis of executing on what I have to offer and attending to what the group most needs is my most satisfying drama—and where they intersect is my facilitator’s sweet spot.
Based on my experiences, here are a few clues I’ve distilled that tell me I might be fixating on form rather than intention:
So if you’re anything like me in this regard, here are a few responses that help me re-orient in the midst of the drama:
Look for the direction the group is leading you, and be willing to follow it and be creative in service of the group’s intention.
I hope you’ll take a minute and leave a comment below—especially if you’ve got things to add to my list of clues, or my list of responses in the moment.
Training Staff, Consultant, Integral Facilitator