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From "Connected (with Abe + Isaac) — Volume 33"

Circles

I picture Lightward as a circle. (Or an amoeba, on a microscope: it’s got form, there’s a line, it’s round-ish, and it is singular, defined.) Everyone who’s a part of this thing comprises the circle. Everyone here contributes to its health, while caring for their own. In turn, that-which-is-the-whole cares for the health of those within.

I picture more circles, inside. Sometimes concentric, sometimes overlapping. Everyone who works on Locksmith operates as a part of that circle. Everyone who works on Locksmith support operates as another circle, further in. Lightward Together is a circle. Empowered Human Academy is a circle. Some people stand in several circles, and there we find the overlap.

But—and here’s the thing I realized today—we each ourselves form our own individual circles, distinguished and delineated by the way we uniquely interact with what’s around us, and others can join those circles too.

Abe’s role is singular. He talks to about fifty people every day, he dreams about what we all might do this time next year, he creates beauty in like ten different mediums simultaneously, and he runs point on travel/social logistics. These are all behaviors that are organic, are natural to him, and we’ve all come to rely (directly or indirectly) on the way in which he is here, the things he consistently does. And that consistent way of being here defines a circle that—for now—is a circle of one.

We’ve been talking for a while about hiring someone to sort of functionally serve as Abe’s assistant but also be a sort of creative director and also sort of interact with everything. Today, I found better, less hierarchical, more inviting language: we’re hiring someone to step into this circle Abe has made, and make it a circle of two.

The language of circles expands my own ability to describe how this whole thing works. (I know how it works, but that knowledge is before language.) The circles are things I can visualize, and they suggest more language that fits the domain:

Not authority, but weight. You are not more important than me, but you may know more than I do. I am not more important than you, but I may spend more time here, may be more connected to the space.

Not control, but emergence. You do not determine my steps, but I may choose my steps differently when I see how you move. I do not determine your future, but you may find inspiration in the vision I share.

Not achievement, but presence. There is no promotion, but you may find that your stance has shifted, and your reach has changed. I need not perform, but for the joy of the movement.

Not titles, but persistence. The way in which you are here is understood, and will be similar tomorrow, and the day after. But please note the inherent contradiction: you are alive, and the way in which you are here will be different next year.

Originally sent out via email