photo credit: valentin.d

I’ve been away on holiday as the new year has begun. Even with the gift of a new American president, I find it hard not to wonder how we will fare in the coming year. One of the approaches I have been taking with clients is to return to some  classic mythological motifs as a way of understanding the broader narrative patterns at play in organizations and in the lives of its people. In doing so, I am increasingly drawn to my work on liminality and the role of ‘in-between’ spaces in development. In the Western world, the Grail legends provide a powerful set of stories about these spaces as part of the human quest for knowledge and growth. It is important to remember here that the Grail is about who we become not an object we obtain.

In her magnificent book on the centrality of language in understanding the Grail stories, Linda Sussman writes, ”The person seeking initiation at the end of the twentieth century is called not just to connect with the tribe(s) of the past but also to prepare the way for the ‘tribe’ of the future. Obviously, this tribe will be very different from the ones our ancestors knew. . . .  We are the tribe of the ‘in-between.’ ” It seems to me that history is marked by certain periods in which humanity’s choices become even more pronounced. I believe we are in one of those periods.

We can no longer take for granted that the technologies of the future will save us from the unintended consequences of our present lives, but must instead be more accountable to previous generations in terms of what it means to be ‘sustainable.’ We can no longer take for granted the historical notions of continuous progress, but must instead factor in the future generations in terms of what it means to ‘succeed.’ For many of my clients, it is about recognizing that we are moving into new territories in which new approaches to leadership are required. We are leaving behind one era but are only beginning to discern the contours of a new one. As Sussman writes, ”In the process, one has quite often to give up a favorite storyline to gain access to a larger context.”

Three tips on living an in-between life

1. Recognize that there is no ‘normal’ to which to return. Much of what has enabled us to get this far may have to be set aside to make more room for what has yet to be imagined. What you are being asked to leave behind in order to take your next steps? In my own professional life, it has involved letting go of the need to “fit in’ in order to make more room for my own vision and leadership.
2. Recognize that we each must enter the ‘forest’ where it is darkest for us (as it was for those who sought the Grail). This darkness is about aspects of ourselves that remain hidden within and/or from us, but that hold the key to the next stages in our development. Only when we move out from the safety of what we know and who we once were can we see what else is possible. I saw this in a recent workshop in which a new leader came to face her fears around claiming her Voice in relating to her boss (by moving beyond waiting for him to grant it to her). 
3. Recognize that the greatest opportunities for growth are found in-between what was and what is not yet. It is in these spaces that we can most clearly see what is being asked of us now. To be successful, seek out new allies, draw on new resources within yourself, lead with strong resolve and true humility. I saw this in a coaching client who was willing to forego the comforts of a familiar place in one leadership team in order to discover a new role (in a new organization) that challenged him to grow in some profound ways.

Those who have gone before us and those who will come after us—in our families, our communities and our organizations—are calling on us to rise to the occasion as part of the ‘tribe of the in-between’. What is your Grail?

photo credit: Serendigity

I was struck by the closing lines of a TIME magazine article yesterday, “[Obama's] story of a boy whose father came from Kenya and mother from Kansas takes place in an America not yet mythologized, a country that is struggling to be born—a multiracial country whose greatest cultural and economic strength is its diversity. It is a country where our children already live and that our parents will never really know. . . But that vision is not really sellable right now to a critical mass of Americans. They live in a place. . . where myths are more potent than getting past the dour realities they face each day.”

What are the myths we need now?

It seems to me that one of the greatest gifts of narrative coaches is their ability to help people re-mythologize their lives in keeping with what is being asked of them. Sometimes it is about relinquishing stories that no longer serve them . . . sometimes it is about shifting stories that no longer match their current realities . . . and sometimes it is about birthing new stories that provide a better path to the future they want to create.

It is tempting in this ‘Alice-in-Wonderland’-like time around the U.S. presidential elections for people to accept the frames that are spun, become seduced by packaged ‘myths’, and fall into the polarities that are evangelised as gospel. However, the deeper and truer mythic function is that of reminding us of the broader principles of human relations. These myths tend to harden as nostalgia when we lack sufficient ability to situate and know ourselves in changing times. It is no surprise that when people are in these places, many are swayed by those who tap into the latent potency of such fantasies. As they say, energy follows attention.

Finding a sense of place

The U.S. is on the cusp of a significant juncture in its young history. It seems to me that the optimal choices involve helping Americans step into a deeper and richer mythology about what it means (and looks like) to be a great nation. Doing so will enable us to gracefully and fruitfully change our stories about dreams and empires. Part of this process will require us to join together in remythologizing what we mean by ‘family’ and ‘home.’ The power of this quest was brought home to me in reading J. Edward Chamberlin’s book, ‘If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?’ when he writes, ‘This is the home we all long for, the Jerusalem are not to forget. It may be the place we came from, five or fifty of five hundred years ago, or the place we are going to when our time is done. It is the place we still haven’t found but are looking for. The place that gives us a sense of self, and of others.‘

Welcome home.